My OId Man’s a Dustman

Only he wasn’t.  My father, that is.  He didn’t wear gor blimey trousers or a dustman’s hat although occasionally, it has to be said, he looked a proper narnar.  For which I can only blame the brylcreem.

Anyway, this evening SmallCat did an impersonation of me.  It wasn’t so much what he said, it was HOW he said it that alarmed me.  It sounded like Michael Caine, (don’t get me started on him, just DON’T).  In other words – Cockney.  Like I was born within the sound of Bow Bells.  Like I’m some kind of Pearly Queen, for heaven’s sake.

Let me get a few things straight here.

1.  I was neither born within the sound of Bow Bells and nor have I even HEARD them.

2.  Yes, I was born and brought up in London but everyone in my house had Irish accents and not once were the words “blimey”, “leave it out, mate”, “you’re avin’ a larf” or “geezer” heard over Sunday lunch.  Which, incidentally, was dinner.  Not lunch.  We never had lunch.  Lunch was only introduced into my vocabulary when I went to college and I still feel uncomfortable using it. In reality, there is no such thing as lunch.

3.  I detest Michael Caine

4.  I do not watch Eastenders. 

Having established the ground rules, I think we can move on now.  Me old china.

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This week I have been mostly still not employable

Facts, figures and backsides

Days away from blog – lots

Amount of days left before unemployment - 12

Job applications made between 15th August and 5th October – at least 30.

Interviews – 0

Offers on house – 3

Offers withdrawn – 3

Number of chest infections SmallCat has had since July – 2 (yes, he’s had another bad incident since the pneumonia, hence the absence)

Number of inhalers in house – 3

But figures can also be good.

Number of interviews since 5th October – 4

Number of interviews lined up this week – 2

% morale boost achieved by said interviews - 100

Catflaps successfully installed – 1

Mortgage offers agreed – 1 (hurrah!)

Children now much better – 1

Lovely boyfriends – 1 

Number of young men exposing their bottoms to your erstwhile bloghost this year – 1.

Well, really.  I have no idea what that was all about, but whilst at Hardwick Hall this summer we took a tour of the older, ruined Hall which was replaced by the jaunty number in the previous blog post. As we were ascending a set of stairs to look at some precariously placed plaster decorations, the young man ahead of me suddenly, and with malice aforethought, dropped his pants without so much as a by your leave.  It was all done so quickly that MrCat didn’t even notice, and the youngsters ahead continued on their progress with the merest of guilty sniggers to give them away.

The view from the top window was unexpected to say the least 

I had two options.  Express shock like the middle aged, middle class, middle of the road woman he no doubt took me for, or make some kind of nonplussed comment in the hope of embarassing him in front of his friends.

I leave it to you, dear reader, to decide which route I chose.

This week I have been mainly frantic and on the phone

What would Bess do?

This is Hardwick Hall.  It was built by Bess of Hardwick who was good mates with Elizabeth I.  MrCat and I went there this summer during our Peak District-Yorkshire Moors-Northumbrian Hills “sort of walking” holiday.

The cost of curtains alone would bankrupt a Duke

When I was a history undergrad, we heard a lot about Bess.  Any woman who was mentioned in lectures more than a couple of times and who was not a) an executed wife b) a decorative mistress or c) Elizabeth I, had to have something going for her.  The only people who did “stuff” back then were men.  Women doing “stuff” were a bit out of the ordinary, and Bess certainly did a lot of “stuff”. 

Bess was mentioned so frequently because she built Hardwick Hall, which had a lot of windows.  We had a guy who specialised in Architectural History, and apparantly the windows of Hardwick Hall say a zillion and one fascinating things if you’re interested in that sort of mullarkey.  Sadly, I did not attend his lectures.  He wore very odd suits which put me off so I chose a different course (Papists and Puritans in Elizabethan England, since you ask). 

Anyway, I say “sadly” because if I’d done his course I’d have gone on a trip to Paris to study Louis Quinze chairs.  It wasn’t the lack of chairs which bothered me, you understand, but the lack of moules marniere and steak frites.  The best I got was a video of “The Life and Times of Philip II of Spain” one afternoon in the history department.  Hey ho.

Bess married several times and was almost as rich as the Queen.  She probably invented the pre-nup and as a result, did rather well and held on to just about everything she gained despite her sex and the fact that she didn’t start ahead of the pack.

So, perhaps I should learn a lesson from Bess in the midst of my current woes.  No job?  Can’t afford your home?  What would Bess do?

Yes, that’s right.  I have to marry the Earl of Shrewsbury.  I can send him a proposal through theyworkforyou.com.

Sadly, I fear his political affiliations are likely to make this a somewhat rocky relationship.

But needs must.

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This week I have been mostly proposing marriage to Tory Peers.

Five little monkeys jumping on my self esteem

It is a fact universally acknowledged that when a lime coloured feline is in a funk, then the whole world turns to pants. 

The post which follows is a self indulgent, self pitying rant.  Please don ear muffs and sturdy shades.

Here are some reasons not to be cheerful. 

• I probably don’t have a job anymore, and there are no jobs out there. 
• My house is for sale, but I don’t want to move. 
• I am in debt up to my eyeballs – indeed, as I write this I’m waving my hand around ABOVE my eyeballs only you can’t see that. 
• And I am so very tired of worrying about money and not sleeping properly, it has been going on for the past few years, and has aged me.  The foundation and powder is beginning to accumulate in the scowl lines around my eyes of a morning (I don’t have laughter lines).  When people look at me closely, they can see Maybelline products with alarming clarity.  They can probably even name the shade.  Hell, the label is PROBABLY ON MY FACE! 

But, as MrCat always says “what’s the worst that can happen?”.  And he’s right.  Let’s be resilient here.  Beans are cheap and nutritious and I am also really rather fond of Autumn.

So to cheer myself up this evening I decided to think seriously about updating my rather tired Etsy shop and adding something new to the product line.  Surely I can come up with something original but most importantly SIMPLE TO MAKE, which people want to buy?  We’ve had enough of bunnies and bears and samey looking dogs and cats.

And then I saw this.  Five little monkeys, jumping on the bed.

 

Frankly, I think this is a work of genius.  But, but…….

WHY CAN’T I COME UP WITH SOMETHING LIKE THIS!

>sob

PS – if you click on the picture, you’ll go to her shop.  It’s very good. 
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This week I have been mostly growling

Headless on my Window Sill

Here is the progress I’ve made with three of the four creatures I am crocheting for Speechless, Mostly.

I now wonder if it was a bit cruel to place the heads of these monkeys directly opposite their dismembered limbs. They are giving their body parts slightly beseeching looks. There is genuine anguish on the face of the (ever so slightly bosseyed) pale lilac monkey as it realises that it won’t have a stripe on it’s sweater like the other two. The green monkey is turning away as he can’t look at the scene of carnage any longer. The brown monkey is simply appalled.

I think I ought to go downstairs right now and apologise.

Technorati Tags: amigurumi

The Kraken will awake soon

Nearly blogworthy again.  It’s been a bit of a month, though.  Child gets pneumonia, then I go on holiday, then I come back, then I get told I don’t have a job any more, so I go on holiday again, then I come back and get told I might have a job for a teensy bit longer but how long that is remains unknown.  All this whilst trying to sell a house without really knowing for sure if this is the correct course of action (a course of action which requires constant tidying and clearing up the whole time to boot) and contemplating the vast weight around my middle, about which SOMETHING MUST BE DONE.

I wish I’d stayed in bed

However, on the plus side, Mr Cat DID take another lovely photo of one of those comical Cadw signs when we were in Wales, so you at least have that to look forward to when I finally get round to distilling all this frantic activity into a sensible blog entry.

And I have completed three monkey heads for Speechless, Mostly, which are not attached to bodies yet so are rolling around in my craft bag like I’m Henry VIII’s chief executioner or something.
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This month I have been mostly sagging around the edges.

Yet another pause...

In yet another exciting non blog update, I'm off on hols for a bit. Much needed, as SmallCat has had pneumonia which was horrible and scared everyone, mainly me. He was as stoic as he always is. I could learn a lot from him.

In the meantime, some more piped music while you wait. This time, I'll leave you with a playlist.

Rasputin - Boney M
Shaddup Ya Face - Joe Dolce
Funky Gibbon - The Goodies

I trust that will keep you entertained for a few days.