Total Bollocks

If you want to waste £6.50....rather than making the journey to the cinema to see London Has Fallen, I suggest to collect your spare change and flush it down the bog.
The film's crap, and not even entertaining crap at that!
Picture this....the world's leaders congregate in London for the funeral of the Prime Minister, as it turns out, the whole thing is a set up by those awful Muslim Extremists for the Capital to be bombed, the world leaders to be killed and the main prize ( The American President) to be captured and executed on youtube.
Only the terrorists were not banking on super service man Mike Banning (An oddly wooden Gerald Butler) who singlehandedly kicks the bad guys ass all over a suddenly empty capital city.
It's a boring, rather too brutal and not even mildly entertaining die hard without the humour but one brief moment did make me howl with laughter.
As the American President arrives, the World leaders get picked off one by one. The German Chancellor is shot in the back by terrorists in Busbees; the Japanese Prime Minister is drowned in his car crossing Chelsea Bridge , the French Premier is blown up on the Thames and the Italian Prime Minister ( wait for this one) is blown to bits having a  fumble with his girlfriend atop Westminster Abbey!

Bunk Off

The Prof is away until tomorrow. I am working all day tomorrow which I know is bad timing, so today, I am bunking off from work at home and am going to a cheap early showing of some shitty film this afternoon. 

A film which I shall talk about later if I have a mind.

I shall leave you with a somewhat unflattering snap of Me  ( with the more photogenic Mary) taken last night, after a strenuous day clearing the entire back garden ( and shitting behind hedgerows!) 

It's a hard job being an internet sensation

An Incident Free Day

Today was going to be an incident free day.
I am still full of aches and pains following my unfortunate tumble " Pussy Willow Hunting" and yesterday I spent a dreary 5 hours cleaning the cottage carpets with an industrial sized carpet cleaner which gave me a whole set of new aches and pains to cope with.
I am thinking of writing to the Governor of the New Wrexham super prison with the suggestion that his prisioners should indulge in some old lady carpet cleaning duties as part of their punishment for it is soul destroying and back breaking work.
Anyhow , as usual, I digress.
Like I said , today was going to be an incident free day. I was toying up whether to have a sneaky trip to the cinema or to clear the back garden of it's winter crap.
Against my better judgement the garden won.
And so before that could happen, I strode out with Mary for our two mile morning constitutional.

Now it's a little known fact that occasionally I suffer from what is blanketly termed irritable bowel syndrome. I don't really mention it much. There is enough shit talk on Going Gently at the best of times, suffice to say when I need to go! I gotta go! 

I was at the furthest point away from home when I had the urge shall we say and knowing that only so much buttock clenching would be effective short term , I weighed up my options.
There were none, well none other than to jump the nearest gate and disappear behind a hedgerow, so I am ashamed to say that in Farmer Basil's field on top of the Gop I picked a suitable sunny spot to "contemplate things"

Big mistake.

In seconds what seemed like 200 ewes appeared from nowhere. I was metres from their feeding troughs and when one gets the idea food is being deposited , they all get into the act so within moments of fumbling with my elasticated waistband ,a near hysterical Mary and I were faced with hundreds of eager faces all expecting dinner.
I might as well waved a union Jack over my head to let any passing motorist or indeed Basil down on his farm where I was and what I was doing.

I'm 53 for Christsake, I should be acting as a grown up!

Life Lesson No 2

A good scotch egg, is an entire meal in itself

Nothing else is required.

Tis bliss finger food! 

If You're Reading This I'm Asleep

To appreciate this blog entry you need to know our early morning sleeping arrangements! ( oohh err)

The Prof is an early riser.

I hate early mornings.

He is up around 5-5.30am, I am clinically unconscious at that time. 

However , it is up to me to drag myself out of bed to walk the dogs down the lane. I don't mind the job and will never complain about it, come rain or snow or whatever, we wander into the dark, have pees and poos then we all return to bed for another blissful sleep. 

It is then I don my eye patch! I don't apologise for the fact. With the Prof pottering for a hour before his commute, my eye patch gets me back to sleep as effectively as a double gin and tonic.

I usually wake up naturally around 8 am .

Today it was 5 to 9!!!!!!! ..............so I hurled myself out of bed, got dressed in a fashion and dashed out to let the hens and the geese out of their houses. I filled the lurid purple paddling pool with water, fed the ewes and filled the hen feeders with layers pellets before hiding them under the main hen house to protect them from the rain. 

I took Mary for a wee walk, waved at a couple of mums bringing their kids in late for school and gave  Graham the sheep farmer the thumbs up as he drove past to feed his pregnant ewes. 

I made breakfast, and coffee and answered a passing woman's request for eggs with a cheerful apology before sitting down with Mary to read the news.

Only then did I realise that perched on the top of my head was my bleeding eye patch!

Life Lesson no 1

Bulldogs brighten your life

Fucking Pussy Willow

Only yesterday I was thinking that I was overdue for a fall.
I was accompanying affable despot Jason to Peter V's funeral and marvelled that I negotiated the Church steps and pews without actually bumping into something. It's a rarity that I accomplish any outing without some sort of mishap.
The Church was busy and full of people which was lovely for the family, but the vicar, an elderly lady who looked as though she had never laughed in her life, refused to breathe any injection of spirit into the service, which was a shame. Subdued by the atmosphere Jason and I giggled like schoolboys on the way home as we swapped ideas for an " interesting" send off. He , being a fan of Jack the Ripper ( !) thought a " street urchin " theme would be suitable with begger boys at the church door and Auntie Gladys dressed up as the old tart Catherine Widdows .
I preferred a more mysterious affair with an impeccably dressed woman with an opaque veil sat alone on a back pew, holding a single red rose.
Anyhow I digress.
As I told you that I thought I was overdue for a tumble ...and today I had one ....and I blame the Gaynor The Mad Organist for it.
She had made it known to the Prof that she needed some pussy Willow and obviously hinted to him that I was the girl to get it for her. This morning, on the Gop paths, I went off piste  to search for some  and caught the back of my trackie bottoms on a particularly robust bramble branch.
As my underpants " twanged" , I lost my footing and bounced merrily perhaps five feet down a bank loosing a shoe and pulling one entire leg out of my trackie bottoms.
Not only did I bruise my dignity, but I thought I had indeed ruptured myself and so limped home for a hot bath and a body inspection.

The Walking Dead

Carol kisses Tobin

Yay!