Aunty Betty

When I was lying in bed this morning listening to The Professor harrumphing about another pile of poo on the kitchen floor, I got to thinking about senses of humour.

Just how does our ability to find things funny develop I  thought to myself when The Professor let out another huge sigh and called out " oh Bloody Hell...there's ANOTHER soddin pile "

Right on cue, Meg got up , circled herself in the duvet and let out a tiny whistling fart and I found myself giggling behind the pillow.

The Professor is amused by many things but isnt a big belly laugher.
I love silly, daft and slightly surreal situations.....and I think that this stems from one wonderful childhood memory which centred upon Aunty Betty, and a packet of chocolate buttons.

The wheres and the whys of the situation remain shady, but I do remember being in the garden of one of my parent's friends homes with a set of what on reflection , were some fairly inebriated adults.
One of my mother's friends was a busty, gravel voiced Jewish Matron called Betty, who looked remarkably like a man....she for some strange reason,had poured herself into a 1970s dress which was far too small for her and was, as I remember, dancing on the lawn with a martini glass in her hand.

Suddenly Betty had the urge to climb up a nearby child's slide and with her massive cleavage waving like a Galleon in full sail she caught her dress on the top rail and was stuck fast.
For some strange reason she had also been feeding herself chocolate buttons from a packet and as she became trapped half of them clattered down her dress between her bosoms

I remember lying in the grass with the other children crying with laughter until it hurt, and the more Betty struggled, the more stuck she became, her hand shoved down her dress in a futile effort to
scoop out the now melting chocolate. It was that half amused/ half desperate look on her face that made me laugh so hard.......that coupled with a chocolate covered cleavage, I think, set the scene for my love of the inappropriate and the surreal.

What was the first thing that you remember that made you belly laugh as a child?
I'd be interested to hear.........I wonder if it informed your humour needs for life?..as I think Aunty Betty's chocolate covered bosoms did for me.

Series 1

With Series 6 not starting until October

I was excited when I saw series 1 repeated on sky!

I had forgotton just how good characters Jim, Moralas and Amy were

Hey ho

Iola, Lentil Dhal, Stolen Sweet Pastry, and a deflated Custard Tart

It's going a missmash of a blog today.

A missmash sort of day it has been

Yola's Father I.P.Jones

This morning two ambling figures were spied walking back from the old shop along London Road. Both were pushing those strange looking mixtures of zimmer frane and shopping trolley, so their progress was incredibly slow and deliberate.
I crossed the road to say hello and strange as it sounds also a final goodbye for the couple are due to leave Trelawnyd very soon.
I first met the Endres when I was collecting information on the History of the village.
( see http://trelawnydhistory.blogspot.co.uk/2011/06/mrs-iola-endres-nee-jones.html)
 Iola Endres is one of the last of Trelawnyd's Royalty still living in the village. She ran the village shop as her father had done for many years and knows the history of the place inside and out. Now, after a period of ill health her and her husband are off to live near her daughter in Manchester.
I wished them well, but it wasnt a happy encounter.
Back home I made a lentil dahl for supper

Then made a batch of sweet pastry , half of which was stolen from the kitchen table by Meg. Who is now sleeping it off on the living room arm chair
No doubt we are now in for a night of THE SHITS!

Meg nursing a dickey tummy

I made another batch in a rush in order to bang out a custard tart
But the effing thing leaked in the oven , leaving a tart only 4 mm thick!
I salvaged two wafer thin wedges and later will take them up to my friend Bob ( the ex poultry farmer who taught me how to " neck" a  chicken) who has just come out of hospital.
Mind you, looking at the state of the slices , I'm not sure I'll bother

Oh the shame!

They look as though Ive sat my arse on em

Love Is Strange

Few movies about life have at their heart a stable and loving relationship , for angst often is mistaken for a more cracking cinematic drama than everyday, " mundane" love.
"Love Is Strange" is therefore a rare beast, for at it's heart is a stable, loving and totally believable love affair between fifty something music teacher George ( Alfred Molina) and seventy something artist Ben ( John Lithgow).
We first meet the pair on the morning of their wedding as they bicker and spar in their Manhattan apartment and from the get go the film captures perfectly that every day ease long term partners possess in bucketfuls. It is clear that this movie isnt after histrionics and queeny drama.

Through a series of beautifully shot scenes,all bookended with George's students' Musical set pieces, the film follows the couple's unexpected separation. for after their marriage George is fired from his catholic school job and the pair have to sofa surf at friends' and family's apartments for a while when their own home is put on the market.
Through problems with personal space, moody nephews, exasperated nieces ( a great understated performance by Marisa Tomei btw)and claustrophobic new living places, Ben and George's relationship remains strong , affectionate and unwavering and it is clear that the audience really longs for the time when their pair finally get together, such is the winning performance by Molina and Lithgow....
It's a wise and lovely movie.
8/10

Pantyliners and Other Stories

I've been on the doctor/ pharmacy and supermarket run for and with an elderly neighbour this morning.
Not too much stress, just a bit of sitting around reading crap magazines in waiting rooms and a rather irritating moment in Sainsbury's trying to buy just one beefburger!
I had zoned out completely by the time I was waiting for some antibiotics at the chemist, so I found myself standing in front of a set of shelves just staring into space at the multi coloured boxes and packets without actually seeing them.
After a few minutes the lady on the till called over without a hint of irony
" were you AFTER  panty liners sir?"
And with that jolt, I suddenly realised I was in the sanitary towel aisle!
" No.....I'm just looking" I replied without thinking
JUST LOOKING? .......what am I?  a friggin pervert?
I shouldn't be let out in public sometimes

Light & Shade

Light and shade,
Light and shade.

Early this morning it was a silly tale of emergency scotch eggs.
This evening it is a sad telephone call from a fellow Trelawnyd-ite about a dying partner
Life turns on a dime....so often
Does it  not?

I Need One .......I Want One........GIMME ONE YOU BITCH!

It's been four weeks since I've had a bit

Four weeks of abstinence.

For a month , I've not touched one, caressed one......enjoyed one

I've been strict with myself....saying that I can cope without the indulgence

How wrong was I to say such a thing.

At 1800 yesterday, I was 90% of a way through a hospital shift when I spied a visitor eating a mini scotch egg.

I could of cried.

I said to my colleagues that I could have killed a nun for such a morsel and all they could dowas to shrug their shoulders.

No one knows a scotch egg addict than another scotch egg addict eh?

Anyhow I battled on

After I got home, I walked the dogs, kissed my husband and then went to Sams for a shift

At 12.45 am   I told my co worker that if I couldn't find a scotch egg I would die

" stop off at the service station in Rhyl on the way home " they suggested

I stopped even though the place was deserted

The service station was only open to payments through a small metal slot..so I begged the spotty youth on duty to find me a scotch egg as quick as he could

" I think we only have only have individual pork pies" he chirped obviously unaware that I was about to kill him

" I need a scotch egg" I begged " just the one......please go and look again!"

He did....thank God

After an age he returned with two scotch eggs in individual wrappers

" one expired yesterday" he said helpfully

" I don't care" I shouted, " bung 'em through the slot"

They tasted like cardboard nectar
Don't tell the Prof
The Roger Eyebrow would be raised well above his head

Bet Roger Moore never said Hey ho
Hey ho

Normal Service Will Be Resumed

The Prof and I are having a lazy day today
Tomorrow he will be writing something profound in his office
Tomorrow I will be working a 12 hour day shuft on ITU followed by further 3 hour Samaritan shift
I'll be back on blogger on Monday
Hey ho