Apologies for my tardy, and possibly tawdry felicitations. I have been involved in a minor mishap involving Storm Eleanor, a tree, and a muddy public footpath. The dog was also there, but is a blameless innocent creature. It was my own stupid fault for trying to jump down from the trunk of a fallen tree and misjudging the distance from trunk to ground. I landed badly, twisted my ankle, and possibly caused some damage to my knee. I shall gloss over the part where I nearly passed out in a deserted country lane. I am not one to make a fuss, it’s not like I was going to lay there undiscovered for weeks on end – hell, if the worst came to the worst I could have simply pulled out my smart phone and published a blog post to alert people of my distress, failing that I could have rung the emergency services.
Anyhow, all is well now, other than a twinge in my knee, and I still feel a bit odd. As part of my recovery process I have been propped up on the sofa watching box sets. So far I have watched all seasons of Stranger Things; Feud; and The Tunnel. I have become something of a TV drama addict, so imagine how thrilled I was when Killer Women with Pie appeared on my TV guide….
New Bake Off!!!
What could this be? Could it be a new Bake Off programme featuring female serial killers showing off their soggy bottoms? Or was it about dangerous femme fatales with a weakness for pastry nibbles? Even better, was it a new psychological drama whereby a crusty British detective and his French female counterpart race against time to prevent a batch of mince pies from going stale midway between Folkestone and Calais? Sadly, it was none of these, it was Killer Women with a pasty, patronising geezer. Programme makers please note that Killer Women with Pie had so much more potential.
Happy New Year!!!! Here’s hoping that all major drama in 2018 is fictional and confined to our TV screens!
….but first let me say a HUGE, ENORMOUS THANK YOU to everyone who responded to my Loopy Letters project!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!! I am looking forward to getting stuck into the letter writing in the New Year – I have now worked out that all the letters WILL form a loose narrative, and I have begun writing them on my laptop before I write them out in calligraphy. I am excited to get started properly.
Meanwhile, I have been doing some of this sort of thing….
Mistress MJ has just this minute reminded me of Blue Peter and the annual Christmas Advent Crown – it’s amazing what can be achieved with four candles, two wire coat hangers, a bundle of tinsel, and a handful of golden balls. My mum would never allow me to make one as she perceived it to be a fire hazard. I still remember the excitement I felt when John Noakes lit the first candle, which meant the countdown to Christmas had truly begun. I promised myself that when I was old enough to be trusted with a lit candle then I would make myself one…. unfortunately I am still not old enough, so we will have to make do with this…
RIP John Noakes 1934 – 2017
I wanted to make a grand announcement, I wanted something of a fanfare with trumpets and bunting, but it is not to be. I am underwhelmed by a cold and am feeling wretched. I do have news though. I have a brand new calligraphy blog. Yay. Go me. It is here:- www.loopy-letters.co.uk. And with this new website I begin a new project. This is not a bog standard calligraphy blog, oh no, this is a Scarlet Blue calligraphy blog. Obviously I would like to sell some calligraphy related bits and pieces, but the real purpose of Loopy Letters is to document my new project.
My intention is to write 100 Loopy Letters. Over the years I have found it difficult to combine my interest in creative writing with my addiction to calligraphy. If I sit and scribble short stories then my calligraphy suffers and my hand gets rusty. If I concentrate on calligraphy then my brain feels a bit numb. So I have decided to marry calligraphy with creative writing and write 100 fictional letters. And, these letters will be sent to people. The letters together might eventually form a longer narrative, or each letter might remain an individual flash of fiction. This project might turn out to be as challenging as the Chronicles of Mogwash…. Mogwash may even feature 🙂
Scribbly, fast-hand calligraphy…
Anyhow, if you would like to receive a Loopy Letter in a beautiful calligraphed envelope, and be part of this project, then please contact me so that I can add you to my address list. I am hoping that I will get truly stuck into this project in the New Year.
Meanwhile, things will carry on as normal on Wonky Words. There will be more words. There will be pictures. But not necessarily in that order. Now please excuse me whilst I go blow my nose on the bunting.
It is November 2nd and of course the weather here is glorious….
Mud??? What mud???
Remember this view back in July look at it now that it’s November!!! I thought I ought to redress the balance as I’m always complaining about the endless rivers of mud, but sometimes… often…it is beautiful here.
The yellow flowers?? A mustard crop. Right… I am busy doing things… I will tell you later. And I got a bath mat. It is in the bath.
Who would have thought that purchasing a new bath mat could be so complicated, and that it would lead to me trawling through online dictionaries, wasting hours of time, when I could have been soaking in a…er… hot bath. It all started at Boots.com [the UK department store, which sells lotions and potions and all things smelly… talking of smelly, Mr Beastie has briefly resurfaced] whereupon I entered the words ‘bath’ and ‘mat’ in the search box.
Please see exhibit A – click to make big.
‘Did you mean to search for Bath Mat? Showing results for ‘max”, replied Boots.com. BUT I DID SEARCH FOR BATH MAT, I howled at the screen. I looked at the search box carefully. I scrutinised it, perhaps I’d typed in ‘enormous maximus’ by mistake as I am wont to do. It seems that Boots were not used to me enquiring about anything so prosaic as a bath mat. Why was I not indulging myself with cosmetics and tooth whitener as I usually do? Boots obviously thought it knew me better.
Please see exhibit B – click to make big.
I then had a brain wave, perhaps ‘bath mat’ is all one word… et voilà…. I found the virtual bathmat aisle. So I thought: fair enough, now I know that bathmat is one word…. but of course I had to check AND ALL THE DICTIONARIES DISAGREE. *WordPress doesn’t seem to like it; my Apple dictionary says NO. My Collins Gem dictionary has no trace of ‘bathmat’. Google seems confused. I am none the wiser…. but does it really matter?
Who cares how it’s spelt, all that matters is that I don’t slip in the bath and bruise my buttocks whilst taking a shower. I CARE. I BLOODY CARE. WHO AM I KIDDING TO SAY THAT I DON’T???????????? I WANT A DEFINITIVE ANSWER AND I WANT IT NOW. AND IF BATHMAT IS TWO WORDS I CAN WRITE TO BOOTS AND TELL THEM THEY ARE WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WHAT RIGHT HAVE THEY GOT TO BASTARDISE THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE FOR THE SAKE OF THEIR NONSENSICAL STUPID FRUSTRATING STUPID DAFT BUGGERING ALGORITHMS?????
…and breathe. Life has been a tad stressful lately. I will now log off and feed the dog.
*To be fair, WordPress doesn’t seem keen on ‘Bastardise’ and ‘Buggering’ either, so it doesn’t know everything.
Before I continue with all things bottled I have a question: Who did you expect to be when you grew up? As a child I took it as read that I would grow up to be a sophisticated middle-aged woman who would travel the world wearing top of the range frocks from House of Fraser and make polite conversation, late into the night, with the occasional French gentleman. I believed my future would look something akin to this……
If this was not to be then I at least expected dinner party invitations for every night of the week so that I could stuff my face with After Eight mints whilst wearing the aforementioned top of the range frock, although perhaps something more slutty from Debenhams or British Home Stores [RIP]……
In a nutshell I expected a glittering, glamorous future, full of fancy frocks, and worthy enough to merit a pithy voiceover. When the transition from eating fish finger sandwiches from a tray on my lap in front of the telly to being an internationally adored lady of leisure with an inexhaustible expense account would happen I didn’t know, but happen it would. Only it didn’t. I am still waiting.
The problem is that the future I imagined is impossible because this future is very much set in the past. I was set up for disappointment the moment these adverts hit my TV screen. Did anyone ever live like this? In any case, the dinner parties I have attended have had more in common with this…
No fancy frocks, just best jeans and a paper napkin to protect a nice top from gravy staining. Sigh. Obviously I was a gullible child when I was suckered by these adverts, although in fairness, I was more taken with the lifestyles promoted than the actual products; we always had After Eights at Christmas and we were allowed to eat them for breakfast whilst wearing pyjamas.
Anyhow, before I get on with my bottle project let us return to my question: Who, or how, did you expect to be when you grew up? I am not expecting anyone to be as shallow as me, hopefully you all aspired to greater things than living life in an advertisement for After Eight.