Category Archives: Personal

No, No, No, No, No!

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I have mellowed in my old age, especially when it comes to disagreeing with others. Once upon a time in response to something silly said by someone else I would enact a dramatic eye roll and mutter an audible FFS into the air. I had little patience, and at times I was accused of being aggressive when defending my beliefs. These days I am a pussy cat.

Take for example a recent excursion into an informal gathering of disparate personalities. Within my earshot someone made a foolish, fact free statement – did I roll my eyes and mutter FFS? No I did not, I simply responded in a sing-song tinkling voice: no-no-no-no-no! and excused myself from the dining table to have a quiet vape in the garden.

Later, the conversation moved on to politics – the UK is having an election this year – and again points of view were aired that I didn’t necessarily agree with, again I brought my sing-song no-no-no-no-no to the fore, and then immediately wandered off leaving in my wake a person with no one to argue with. I like this new me! All I need is an oversized floppy hat with a jaunty brooch and I will have morphed into a quintessential eccentric older lady.

I think I like this new character I am becoming. I used to be concerned about my greying hair, and my extra wrinkles and I used to wish I had the money to shore up my chins in the manner of Davinia McCall, or Amanda Holden, but using Miriam Margolyes as a role model is a lot more fun! And I can also eat as much cake as I like. Trying to defy the ageing process is expensive and hard work – and does it ever really fool anyone? I think people have to be blessed with some pretty good genes in the first place for it to make much impact.

My message today is to work with what you’ve got – and if you’re average like me, bugger it all, do what you like – let your character develop and run free – indulge your eccentricities; wear a hat; write decorative letters to financial institutions who couldn’t give a toss where your pension is; put all your furniture on wheels; and most importantly – don’t sit through one sided conversations out of politeness when you’d rather be doing something more interesting instead.

Did you know that David Bowie wrote the first set of lyrics for My Way? They were rejected, and eventually Paul Anka bought the rights to the melody and wrote the lyrics himself.
Bowie wrote Life on Mars in retaliation. I prefer Life on Mars.

It’s a Wrap!!!

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I did it!!!! Jon will be back either today or tomorrow and we can all go back to normal. Phew!

I was going to use this post to waffle on about my new AI assistant, ChArmaIne2, but I think this is best saved for next week, by which time she will have turned my Bottled posts into a 850,000 word novel – yes, she is that quick!!

I think this exercise in daily blogging has actually been good for my mental health as it’s prevented me from dwelling on my usual worries – worries that I can do little about. I also like the natural flow that comes with writing back to back posts – so maybe I will take up cluster blogging, who knows. I don’t really want to fall back into my one post every 2 months routine!

Anyhow, thank you for your patience!!

I will leave you now with 67 words of calligraphy, all spelt correctly and in the right order, and a view of me running across the fields to my house for a well earned rest….

copperplate calligraphy

Oops…I am just out of shot.

Next Week: ChArmaIne2 writes 5 novels and a TV series; A Scottish Widows Update; and, Which Wellies are Best? – an in-depth report on rubber footwear.

Half-baked and Soggy…

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Today’s post is not fit for consumption, it is half-baked with a soggy bottom, and is missing a vital ingredient, so I will let it languish in my drafts file until I have the nutrients to bring it to life.

BUT…. I am on post no.9!!!! Post 9!!!! I have posted 9 days in a row!!! Obviously I am saving my thoughts about this for tomorrow!

Today I bring you TWO Ancient Vermillion Proverbs and a Youtube. Hopefully the proverbs will bring enlightenment to your day, and the Youtube will make you dance/sing/roll your eyes/change your understanding of life, or whatever.

Ancient Vermillion Proverbs

A day is only as long as an arm in a sleeve.

Silence is golden, but noise has colour and silvery shrieks.

You see! I can do deep and meaningful!! Just like Richard Harris….

First verse and chorus only – look up the rest if you feel the urge, but surely the striped pair of pants have something to do with Mistress MJ??

Spring was never waiting for us, girl
It ran one step ahead
As we followed in the dance
Between the parted pages and were pressed
In love’s hot, fevered iron
Like a striped pair of pants

MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don’t think that I can take it
‘Cause it took so long to bake it
And I’ll never have that recipe again
Oh no!

Until tomorrow!!!

Three Sentences and a Photo….

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I went to Bude yesterday – did I take a photo of the wonderful vista of the Atlantic Ocean glistening on the horizon as we approached the town, or did I take a very bad photo of a stuffed bird perched in the window of a curiosity shop for Mitzi?

Shop window in Bude

I was trying to get background objects into the shot, but the sun defeated me. Meanwhile, does anyone need a whale vertebra?

Ack. I need to write another sentence. I also went to Homeleigh Garden centre to buy Geraniums, and they had these huge log baskets on casters – I was entranced. It was in this moment that I realised that my old lady thing is going to be self propelling items of furniture….. but it’s on wheels, I muttered over and over.
I would link to the baskets but the Homeleigh website is as insane and confusing as the place itself. Every Homeleigh is as big as a small village – you can spend days in there as you desperately search for exit signs. The store at Launceston even has its own hairdressers!
Soz, I was only aiming for three sentences and seem to have gotten rolled away…

Chasing a Pension Pot

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They have my money but will not help me find my old pension pot. I have sent them two letters with forms downloaded from their website with ALL the information they need to trace my pension. I have phoned them – they did try to help over the phone but eventually told me to send my documentation by email – which I did. They then claimed that my documentation wasn’t attached to the email – it so was, and I can prove it…. Ack. They are sending me round in circles, despite encouraging people to trace their old pensions, THEY ARE NOT BEING HELPFUL!!!! I have been trying to get information from them since January. I don’t know why I am surprised by their incompetence, as a page has been set up on Facebook to complain about them. I am so frustrated.

I have now decided to make my pension tracing efforts into a calligraphy project. My first envelope to them was addressed in block capitals in Bic Biro. This is my second envelope…

address envelope in copperplate calligraphy

It is a little more fancy, but nothing over the top. I intend to add more decoration and flourishing as the months go by, and then maybe, just maybe, I might get a reply – even if it’s just a cease and desist notice.

Sunday Music Calling….

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Sundays are easy!! Sunday’s are always about kicking back and listening to favourite tunes…but, we have been chatting about party lines, old phones, and phone boxes this week so some more about what I remember about early phone use:-

1) The phone was generally located in the hallway, often by the front door. This was usually the coldest part of anyone’s house. Everyone sat on the stairs to talk on the phone – having to lean into the wall if anyone wanted to shuffle past with a basket load of laundry.

2) You had to ask permission from a parent to even think about using the phone; they would glare at you after 15 minutes of chatter, and then shout at you to hang up at around the 40 minute mark.

3) Without fail my mum would say: Who’s that? whenever the phone rang without moving a muscle to answer it.

4) My sister would use the phone as a weapon of abuse. If we’d had a row [often] she’d dramatically dial up a friend and tell them, loudly, how vile I was and what she thought of me. So childish.

5) I hated waiting for boys to call me – devastated if they didn’t – too embarrassed to speak if they did because of my mum and sister hovering in the background.

An appropriate bit of Sunday Music for Mitzi…