New Job

On Sunday I handed in my 4 weeks notice. This was the moment I had been dreaming about, fantasising about and drooling over. I had various different speches about what I would say but when it came down to it all I said was that I am leaving because I have another job...in Thailand. One of my bestest friends in the world, Miss R. V. The Human (I have never spoke of her on my blog, not because I don't love her but because she's not a big internet fan and the idea of her being on it would surely bring her out in some kind of nasty rash) is going over this weekend. She got herself a job teaching English in Lopburi (about 3 1/2 hours North of Bangkok). She put in a good word for me and before I could say I'm off to Thailand, she'd sorted me out with a job at the same school.

So I now have 4 weeks to sort out flights, injections, visas, insurance, getting another copy of my degree certificate as I lost the original (hey, until now it was not worth the paper it was written on), visiting Dad and Katkins in Norfolk and meeting endless people for goodbye drinks.
Lopburi is famous for it's monkeys. So much so that every year a local hotelier holds a banquet for them complete with menus and waiters as a way of thanking them for bringing the tourist trade. I'm getting my rabies shot tomorrow because I am the kind of fool who thinks monkey's are cute and would be climbing the trees with them. It has also been advised that we stay away from dogs as they could be rabid too. I don't want to end up foaming at the mouth cujo style so I guess I'll have to take heed.

It Happens

It happens. Occasionally you expect it. But 9 times out of 10 you don't. So there I was unfolding the towel to dry myself after I'd had my shower. And there it was, all big and brown and hairy. When Spiders Attack. I squealed and flung the towel down onto the wet floor. No sooner had I done this than I felt a pang of guilt, what if I'd crushed the spider? What if it had drowned on the wet floor? Poor little, ugly, hairy, eight-legged freaky thing. I don't like them but it's not there fault they repulse me. I am too scared to investigate so I sit here wondering about it's well being. But I am also sitting here smiling. For reasons I can not disclose yet, for fear of jinxing myself and having everything blow up in my face.

Walk This Way

Mum is chuffed to bits with her new camera. I am chuffed to bits from inheriting Mums old camera. But while mum is excited about her new role as as short film producer, my role as a small time actor has done nothing but make me self concious about the way that I walk.

I have known for years that I have a silly walk. Someone once told me I walked like someone who had a hernia. What would I walk like then if I actually did have a hernia? It has been noted that i do not lift my feet properly and people at work can always tell when I am walking near by.

I just chose to ignore the fact that I had a silly walk. I could not see it so it did not bother me. But now there is video evidence and i can not ignore the gangly, akward, hen-toed walk. I am now making a conscious effort to walk with more style, more grace and less hen-toedness. It is tough though as walking is one of them things we do without even thinking about it. And the more you think about doing it the harder it actually is. I am giving mum instructions to avoid any video fooage of me walking, running, dancing or generally using my legs until I have perfcted my new walk. I am thinking of choosing one from Monty Pythons Ministry of Silly Walks. Its bound to be better than my own.

Dirt Bird: Poor In Money, Rich In Brains

Since Dirt Bird got back from Ballymena she's been living in poverty and surviving Ray Mears style. We were chatting about sending each other letters as it's a cheaper way to stay in contact and Dirt Bird had her outgoing calls blocked. So I asked her to text me her address and I would write to her.

'I can't text you, my phone won't let me', says Dirt Bird

'Oh aye'

'You send me a letter and I'll write one back with my address on it', says Dirt Bird, sounding chuffed with herself.

'Nah but that won't work Dirt Bird because I need your address before I can send you a letter'

'Oh yeah'

So we laughed and laughed at the sillyness of Dirt Bird.

The Big Issue

It's been so long since I signed into blogger that I forgot my username. It's been so long since I used a computer I've forgotten how to leave comments on people's blogs. I'm so confused by the new-fangledness of mum's laptop and my fingers are so big and alien that I keep typing the wrong letter.

I moved out of the house. Jamie went back to Stoke. The landlord is being a typical landlord and refusing to give us back our deposit. You live and you learn. Never do favours for your landlord. He'll shaft you anyway. Dirt Bird and Half-Term Kerm helped with the moving out. Half-Term kerm said he loved moving things but when it actually came to it he mostly sat on the sofa and watched. He is only a size 0 though and would fall over if you blew on him.

As always, it's nice being back at nellybert's. Spring is the best time of year for making changes and the countryside is the best place to be. I might go out and climb some trees with Holly.

I was telling Dirt Bird about a treasure hunt Pirate John organised. Me and jamie had planned to visit him in Manchester and Jamie told him he had to set me up a treasure hunt. Pirate John did really well considering he only had a few hours to prepare for it. We received or first clue by text message just as we go off the train. We had no idea what it meant so next thing is a Canadian treasure hunt fairy called Hank runs down the street pointing at a huge billboard. Behind the billboard was an envelope with a compass and our next clue. We followed the trail of clues around Manchester 'til we got one that said What's the big issue?

We looked about us and down the street a bit was a guy selling the Big Issue. So we asked him what the big issue was. He said he would tell us if we bought a copy off him and then he told us the name of a pub that was just round the corner. And in that pub was our treasure in the form of Pirate John and Hank and pints of beer.

I can honestly say it was one of the best days of my life. But that's 'cos I'm a simpleton who is easily amused with treasure hunts.

Challenge Anneka

Within our house we have the makings of a jazz/folk band. We currently have a trumpet, trombone, cornet, clarinet, saxophone, drum machine, two geetars, a couple of harmonicas and I'm sure there's a tin whistle floating about somewhere. The clarinet is here courtesy of Bert via Young Rooney and the drum machine has been borrowed from the Mandolin Man. Oh, I forgot, we also have a Tibetan singing bowl.

Despite all these musical instruments I still have to listen to what can only be described as noise (oh dear, sounding old again). But seriously, Jamie is getting into a form of music that really is only noise. Horrible screeching, scratchy, electronic sounds that fill him with gleeee but make my ears bleed blood from my brains. He says it's soothing. It's like silence to him. Of course this only proves that he's buck mad and has terrible taste in music.

Like I can talk. I still love Courtney and I still love shrieking along with her like a banshee. The more it hurts your throat the better it is for other people to listen to. One of the reasons I love Courtney is the memories I have of being a youngster. Getting drunk with Dirt Bird, Barbie and Horatio in someone's house, which was still in the process of being built. Running around outside playing Challenge Anneka with Barbie screaming we have to get to that tree! Slipping about and falling in the mud.

Eventually Dirt Bird's little sister found as all lying on the ground looking up at the stars, screaming Hole songs. Me and Horatio were meant to stay at Dirt Bird's house that night but were driven home by her dad for being naughty. It was tough stifling our giggles in the car and when we got to Horatio's we crawled up the stairs in drunken hysterics tramping mud all over the carpet. I never laughed so much in my life.

Would You Shoot This Bear?

Should this polar bear be put out of it's misery and shot? A group of animal rights' activists seem to think so. I've been reading this story and beginning to wonder if some people just like having a moral debate for the hell of it.

Do you think, in the cases of children being reared by wolves, that the wolves all sat around wondering if they should just rip the child's throat out and eat him for dinner to 'put him out of his misery' so that he wouldn't be dysfunctional when being integrated into human society? I think they just went with their instincts. Is it not the animal rights' activists who claim that humans and animals have equal rights? Humans are humans and animals are animals but sometimes they intertwine and become humanals. Is that not ok?

I for one think it would be a pure sin to shoot this polar bear. It is healthy and and it's upbringing is not necessarily going to cause it suffering in later life. I watched a man on TV rear bear cubs and human and bear interact magnificently together. If polar bear wants, it can come live with me.

The Shame

Me and Jamie have been helping Holly ze Cat set up her Myspace account. I've been so busy helping her that I've neglected my own wee blog. Not that there's much to report. Holly probably has more going on her life than I do. The weekend was shameful. Not a tap of booze was lipped on St. Paddy's day. On Sunday poor mum had to settle with a messenger (in the form of Jamie) telling her, Happy Mother's day, sorry Hannah hasn't got you a card or a present but she's useless and has no ability to forward plan for such occasions.

In fact, rather than getting roaring drunk on Saturday, me and Jamie spent the day furiously cleaning the house as someone was coming to view it. This involved a lot of clearing out. Things that we save up to be recycled but never actually get round to recycling. I had a couple of bin bags full of clothes for charity. We also had a few bin bags full of bottles and 6 bin bags full of paper to be recycled. It made me feel bad that there was a whole forest in our house. I feel good that it's being recycled but the fact that people can ever accumulate so much paper in the first place is amazing. Most of it was newspapers and tat mags but a lot of it was junk mail and rubbish leaflets they stick through your door. This is what we cut down our oxygen supply for. Bits of rubbish with rubbish on them.

Anyway, it's crap having people come look at your house. It forces you to do housework and all for the sake of 10 minutes. You feel like an idiot pretending to make the house seem nice when really you couldn't give a rat's ass.

Decisions Decisions

A vacancy for a senior sales position has opened up at work. I'm umming and aahing about whether or not to apply for it. I know I am capable of doing the job but I also know that that wouldn't necessarily mean I would get the position. My reasons for not wanting to do it would be that I don't plan for a future career in retail and I'd have to work Saturdays. I also don't know if I would feel comfortable telling my peers what to do. I like my work comrades and would hate for them to resent me if I was to be bossing them around. At the same time I know the staff on my floor are competent and wouldn't need too much bossing around. But I like the dynamics as they are. Hate the work but I like my place within it.

Reasons to go for it would be that it would look good on my CV whether I have a future in retail or not. I've been there a year and a half now and it would look good if I moved up rather than being there 2 years and going nowhere. Obviously an increased wage would help and I know that the girls I work with would rather that I was bossing them around than someone who they didn't get on with. That's not even to say that I would be bossy. I'm just scared that I might be. When I asked the girl who has been promoted from senior sales if I should apply for it she said she had thought of me but she wondered if I would be authoritative enough. She said I should definitely consider it even just to get the practice with the interview.

I think the thing that puts me off the most is the worry that if I did get the position I wouldn't be very good at it. At the minute, as it is, I'm excellent at my job. Although I hate working for a company like them I can't help but take pride in a job well done. I like to be praised and they praise me a lot.

I suppose if I got the position and hated it it would only be short term. It would help me save quicker to get away quicker. I suppose it's not the end of the world if I'm not brilliant at it. It's not my dream in life so it shouldn't bother me. I don't mind change I just hate making the decisions that lead to it.

Pah!

I feel old. It could be to do with the fact that I work with a lot of 16 and 17 year olds. I get on great with them and think of most of them as older than they are. That is until I mention a TV program from when I was a kid and they go 'Huh?' It used be me going 'Huh?'. When did that change? I feel old. I mean, these are people who don't ever remember Snickers being Marathons! Or they don't remember Secret bars or Vice Versas. I bet some of them don't even know who Jason Donavon is.

I especially feel old living in my hometown. Before Ballymena had the big posh new cinema we used to watch our films and eat our popcorn at the State cinema, which had only 2 screens. I was chatting to some of the girls at work and one of them piped up 'Oh aye, the state cinema. I was there once'

Once. I was there a million times! I watched Ghost there! Back to the future! I've only been to the new one once. How old am I?

Ancient.

No Prospects In Prospect Place

I'll be 25 this April and have already moved house about 18 times. I haven't lived in 18 different houses but have packed my bags and moved at least 18 times. I seem to spend my life packing my belongings in a bag and unpacking them again. I am the bag lady. Perhaps that's why I found it so easy to live in a tent for 11 weeks. Perhaps that's why I never get attached to a house. Perhaps that's why I never feel settled. Maybe that's why I want to jump ship and do one so often. I suppose it's why the idea of traveling appeals to me so much.

The reason I'm mentioning it is because on the 10th April this year I'll be packing my bags again and moving out of this house. I'll be going to live with Mum and Bert again and Jamie is going back to live with his mum. We'll be moving out on the exact same date as we moved in last year. The reason being that we just couldn't afford it. Well we could but only just about. There was never any money left over to save for travels. We were working all the hours God sent and surviving, only just. It became depressing. It makes me wonder how other couples survive. It makes me wonder how people can afford to have families these days. It makes me wonder what was the point in going to university, racking up loads of debt that can never be paid off because a degree does not guarantee a decent job. It really makes me wonder.

Candy Strippers

I was showing Jamie and Peppy le Peu my new shirt for work. It's red and white vertical stripes so I said to them Look, I'm like a candy striper. Jamie agreed and said something about me working in an ice cream van. I started to doubt myself. Did I even know what a candy striper was? I asked Jamie and Lee if they knew. They didn't. I asked them if they had ever heard of one. They hadn't. They thought I had made the term up. I told them what I thought it was, a girl who worked in a hospital, helping out with the patients. They didn't believe me. I got Jamie to look it up on the internet and lo and behold, I was right. He found this.

It took Jamie a good ten minutes to piece it all together. The red and white striped uniform, why they were called candy stripers. When he seen this
version of the costume he wondered if maybe they weren't called candy stripers but candy strippers.

Bitcher

Bitcher
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

I thought my blog was looking rather bleak like the month of February. A perfect excuse to post a picture of the scritchy scratchy bitcher when she was in better health.

I'm already regretting my last post after having a quick squizz at site meter. There are some things people look up on the internet that wee innocent girls like me should never be subjected to. And there are some people who will be sorely disappointed when they're looking for bum pleasure and they stumble across my site.

Get Your Finger Out Of My Mouth!

Jamie thinks it's dead funny to poke his finger in my mouth when I'm trying to yawn. I hate this as a yawn should be satisfying and a finger is just off-putting. I told Jamie it was like me poking my finger up his bum when he was in the middle of his morning pooh. He disagreed. I told him it was the same thing, a finger being poked in someone's orifice while they were in mid bodily function. He still disagreed. He thinks because he was right about the dog's life debate that he is always right now. There's no telling him.

Gracie Threw

I was reading one of those magazines that offer mail order goods at bargain prices. You know, the kind of magazine that advertises special thermal slippers and insoles that remember the shape of your foot. I love them. I can never believe the amazing stuff they sell that never seems to make it to the mainstream market. Like shoe stretching cream. Being a broad-footed person I would find something like this very useful. Other useful things include a device for training your dog to stop barking so much. I would hardly need one but I might suggest that Zoe gets one for Gracie. Oh! while we're on the subject of Gracie.

When Bert was leaving Gracie over to stay with her other grandparents they asked if she'd had her dinner. 'She has', says Bert, 'Oh and I think she's going to throw it up now'. And with that she started heaving and apparently threw up a cylindrical shaped mass of stuff that was practically as big as her. They all just looked at it in shock and then Granda H asks 'What is that?'

At first Bert was just as dumbfounded as they were and then he twigged and tells them that he threw a lot of mashed potato out for the hens and he'd seen Gracie over chomping at it. 'She must have ate the whole lot' says Bert. At which point he made a swift exit.

Dog's Lives and 42p Mix-Ups

Jamie and I are in the middle of a very serious debate at the minute. It involves the meaning and the origin of the saying It's a dog's life. Jamie takes it to mean that it's a bad life. I take it to mean that it's a good life. Who wouldn't want to be a dog? Running around chasing your tail, and balls and cats, going for walks, sleeping in front of the fire. Sounds like pure bliss to me.

I asked some girls in work. The first agreed with Jamie. Damn! Jamie 2 Hannah 1. But the second girl I asked agreed with me. Yay! Jamie 2 Hannah 2. I asked May and she agreed with Jamie. Boo! Jamie 3 Hannah 2. And May is all-knowing so it's not looking good for me. Then I remembered the entrance page for Zoe's old website. She says it's a Dog's life and shows a picture of 2 dogs looking very happy indeed. So she obviously agrees with me. Yay! Jamie 3 Hannah 3. And Zoe is also all-knowing. It doesn't mean I've won the debate but it does mean that I haven't lost it yet.

Last week I went to the local newsagents to spend my last 40p on penny sweets. Normally I count my own mix-up and tell the person at the counter how much it is. On this particular occasion the old fella that owned the shop was in. He obviously didn't like the look of me as when I gave him my bag he got a bowl out and started to count every single last sweet. Either I can't count or I'm a very bad girl but he counted 42p and I said that I thought it was 40. So he took 2 sweets out of the bag. I was raging. Raging because I'm 24 coming 25 and I was caught red-handed shoplifting 2p worth of sweets. I'll never work again. So I have vowed the next time he is in the shop I will be getting myself 5 pounds worth of penny sweets and as he is counting them out I will be doing all that I can to distract him. And when he's finished counting out all the sweets I'll tell him I don't want them anymore. I'll tell him that his sweets have obviously been lying arounf for a decade and they taste like shit anyway.

Problems In Communication

Tiscali, goddam them, have been toying with our minds. Our internet connection is very temperamental at the moment and when it goes off we don't know what to do with ourselves. I'm not as bad as Jamie. I'm reading a good book at the minute The Devil and Miss Prym by Paulo Coelho - 'tis actually the first book I've read since reading the book that this blog was named after. Bad, I know. But poor Jamie is beside himself when it goes off.

It is cruel though. When abody has no TV ariel and the internet is their only form of entertainment. We have watched all the good movies there is to watch from the video shop and even if we hadn't we have no money to rent them. So a big fat f**k off to Tiscali for the deprivation they have caused us.

It first went off at the weekend. Jamie did some investigating and found that most of the Ballymena area was off-line. We sat tight and waited. It came back on a couple of days later. Yeah!. We celebrated with Neighbours and the wee Yodelling girl on You Tube. The next day it went off again. Jamie phoned up and they said blah blah blah we'll get an engineer out tomorrow. The next day it came back on. Yeah! We celebrated with Neighbours and silly games. The next day it was off again. So Jamie phoned again. Same old story. That was last night. It's on again today. We'll celebrate with Neighbours but inside we'll be cursing Tiscali and holding our breath for it to go off again.

Ta

Ok, 'tis about time I thanked everyone for their lovely Christmas gifts. It was a funny one this year and I got most of my presents after I'd actually seen the people who gave them to me. So I would've have thanked them then but wouldn't have known what I was thanking them for. If that makes sense. Even if it doesn't as long as those who know they need to be thanked are thanked.

Damn! I just inhaled coffee and coughed it all over the keyboard. I bet that looked really sexy.

Big Brother is finally over. I'm glad that Jade and her 2 wenches acted the way they did. Although those girls claim they are not racist they have shown how people use cultural differences to alienate and isolate someone. They did this to Shilpa because they were jealous of her not because she was of a different race. Either way, their behaviour was unacceptable. I'd like to think if they were bullying Shilpa without any references to her culture that they would've been booted out anyway. Sadly, I don't think it would've been the case. So when it came to the final there was the gay Welsh man, 2 Americans, one white and one afro-carribean, and an Indian woman. Do the British public not like the British celebrities? Are British celebs (if we could even call them that) just an embarassment to us?

Driver's Ed

Bertram has very kindly offered to pay for driving lessons for me. For a while now I have been using the excuse that I can't afford them but now that burden has been lifted thanks to Bertie Boy. I am excited and nervous. Driving is something that I hadn't thought about doing 'til sometime in my 30's. Although I knew it was something I should do sooner rather than later.

So I've decided to be very dedicated. I went to get my form for my provisional licence today and passed by through Eason's on the way. I saw that they were having a book clear out and had a wee rummage through. I noticed a driver's theory book and thought I'd get it and start swotting up straight away. This time in 3 months time I will be an expert on the theory of driving a large vehicle. It will come in handy for when I become a long distance lorry driver.

Leap Year Babies

Between me, Jamie and Nelly's other half, not one of us knows anybody born on the 29th of February. We tried to work out the probability of it when we were drunk but neither me or Bert has a very good head for maths. Where are all the Leap Year babies? And don't they feel slightly cheated? Do they celebrate their birthday on the 28th of February or the first of March? If I was born on the 29th of February I'd have a huge party every leap year. I'd get all the other Leap Year babies together and have a massive celebration.

I started work at 6 this morning for a stocktake. It's always hateful getting out of bed but it was nice to get home at 3 this afternoon. It was actually day light and though it was bitterly cold the sun was shining. I could almost convince myself it was summer.

Nelly's kitten is adorable. I want to believe that's it's my kitten too but apart from attacking my alien fingers she doesn't bother much with me. It's because she's too busy winding up the dogs. We thought Harry was one helluva cat the way he got on with the dogs but he was nothing compared to this little minx and Harry didn't have an alsation to contend with. If Holly isn't getting a rise out of Bonnie by clawing her paws she'll stick her head in the alsation's mouth. She'll lie in a plastic bag hung on a door handle like she 's chilling on a hammock. She does great wee dances and leaps in the air. But she's not Harry. Harry was a wee cootchie cat who'd snuggle with you. He had a beautiful purr and Holly never seems to purr. Which is a shame because that's one of the best things about a cat. Holly lets out bad-tempered mean growls if you even so much as brush up against one of the hairs on her tail. But she's still class.

Bring on the longer days so I can get my camera out.

Bank Charges

Anybody who has received bank charges, over the 10 pounds, in the last 5 years might find this site useful. Apparently it was illegal all along for banks to charge over a certain amount and this site gives you a step by step guide on how to go about claiming money back from your bank. The same applies to credit card charges, although the maximum amount they can charge is 12 pounds but anything over that can be claimed.

So there you go. We always knew banks were robbing bastards.

Why Dirt Bird Is A Dirt Bird

If you were wondering why Dirt Bird is called Dirt Bird this is the reason.


But it's not nice to say that about Dirt Bird, she's lovely really. I miss her loads and wish she'd come back to scabby Ballymena where she belongs.

January 24th

I've been reading in the papers that January is officially the shittiest month of the year, January the 24th being the worst day of the year. It's exactly one month after Christmas so the high we get from that has completely worn off by then. It's 3 weeks after New Year when people start to cave in and break their resolutions. It's a few days 'til pay day and everyone's skint. So I've decided that January 24th will be an excellent day for me. I didn't get that high at Christmas so it's already worn off. I didn't make any resolutions to break and so I don't feel guilty. I get paid on the 22nd and will be living in the lap of luxury by the 24th. But I still say roll on March.

Everybody Needs Them

Last night Jamie and I foolishly watched endless clips of Neighbours episodes that have already been shown in Australia. We spoiled the next 6 months viewing in one hour. It was too much to take in. All the storylines, all the drama. I felt physically ill after. Jamie felt guilty. The last cliff hanger involved somebody getting shot.

I suppose you're all dying to know what happens?

Sky gives birth to her baby but someone kidnaps it. Was it Stingray when he was pissed and emotional? No! Was it Carmella's mad cousin when she was mad? No! Was it Dyldog because he thought the baby was his? Yes! And she is his. One minute she's Dyldo's, next minute she's Stingray's, but really she's Dyldo's. So Sky's reporting Doc. Karl for malpractice and making her think that the baby was Stingray's. Stingray's family are suing the Doc for causing him severe emotional distress when he already had enough on his plate with the old alcohol addiction and falling in love with minors.

Mishka comes back from Russia to find her best Ozzy man, Lou Bear, but is deported 10 minutes later for trying to bribe the Immigration Officer. Paul Robinson proposes to Lyn, she accepts, they say I do and 10 minutes later he's telling her that he'll only be cheating on her in 6 weeks time and she's better off without him. So Stephie punched him for being a bastard.

Paul's daughter Elle is feeling guilty about making Mad Max think he was going mad. Poor Stephie is sad and lonely because Mad Max has done a runner on her but luckily she has Toadie to keep her warm and cozy.

Katya, the silly moo cow, is spoiling eveything for everybody. Evil Rob Rob should've done the job properly and got rid of her. And Elle for that matter. It's all Katya's fault that Mad max went mad and ran away. If he hadn't of fallen for him and become so needy of him he wouldn't have accidentally ran over Elle's brother Cameron. Therefore Elle wouldn't have sought revenge on Max, making him think he was going crazy. So Katya, the silly moo cow, robbed a bank a few years back and now an evil guy called Guy is blackmailing her. She tries to shoot him but she gets shot. This guy called Guy doesn't like the cut of her gib and so he holds her, Stephie, Toadie and Zeke the Freak hostage until Katya coughs up some serious dollar. This all leads to poor Doc Karl getting shot. Poor Karl who's just been sued and lost his job.

Ray The Mountain

I'm ditching Gomez at my wedding for this guy. Ray Lamontagne. He's a bit like Jesus 'cos he used to be a carpenter but he's a lot more sexy than Jesus and with a voice that could melt butter. If he's not careful he can sound a bit like Michael Bolton but that's just when he's doing the schmoozy numbers. Jamie and I are thinking of seeing him at the Waterfront Hall next Saturday. It's been so long since either of us was at a gig. Zoe's beloved Dive Boy is also a fan and I asked him if he wanted to come along with us. He asked me could I not just bring him to back to their house. I told Dive Boy not to worry he'd be playing at my wedding in the woods. With Jose Gonzalez.

This is a good un too.

It Is Difficult To Play The Trombone

Kids are funny creatures. They do and say and believe the strangest things. I heard a little girl say mummy you're hurting my face. Her mum just laughed and said how can I be doing that I'm not even touching you. Their little minds are so undeveloped that they can believe that anything is possible. They will make up their own crazy conclusions about the world and how it works. Sometimes they are misguided and sometimes a little too naive. Here's some of the things I believed as a youngster:

* In the 'olden' days, when my grandparents were children, everything was black and white. Colour was not introduced to the world 'til sometime in the 70s when everyone was tripping out on acid.

* Anon was a poet. He was so well known and wrote so many poems that he could be known by his first name only. He was on the same kind of celebrity scale as Madonna or Prince.

* Buzzards are called buzzards because they buzz (ok so I was 14 when I believed this but I was still technically a youngster).

* Bears lived in the woods in Ireland and the big sticks that are used for putting out forest fires were to beat the bears away when they attacked you (I had some help in believing this).

* If I swallowed a plum stone a plum tree would grow in my tummy (I know all kids believe this but I really believed it, to the point where I cried for hours after swallowing a plum stone).

* It is difficult to play the trombone because it can suck the breath out of you.



Now that I'm older I'm much more wiser. I know there are no bears in Ireland (but don't tell Pirate John that). I know that anon is an abbreviation of anonymous. I know that buzzards don't buzz but I still don't know why they're called buzzards. I know a plum tree won't grow in your stomach. But I still believe that a trombone is difficult to play because it can suck the breath out of you. It makes total sense in my head.

Happy New Year

Christmas is over, the New Year has begun and the days are getting longer by a millisecond each day. Only stinking oul' January to get through now and all will be good. I hate January. It's a cold bleak month. The buzz from Christmas and New Year has worn off, we're skint, it's cold, and dark and everyone's already broken their New Year's resolutions by the first week and feeling like shit. February's not much better but at least it's short.

On a brighter note, Christmas was lovely. After I had the stress of doing everything lastminute.com (buying, wrapping and delivering presents and packing up until half an hour before leaving for the airport), I just relaxed at Jamie's mum's house watching Santa movie after Santa movie and eating sweets. It was strange though, my first Christmas away from home. I had a surreal experience at the airport. When going through security there was a man in front of me just about to walk through the metal detector. The secuirty lady asked him to wait and asked me to walk through first. Even though I didn't bleep she asked me to hold my arms out to be searched. As she did so she said to me Ok I'm going to search you there's no need to stand there looking like I'm doing something to you.

Bam! I had an overwhelming sense of deja vu. It made my face turn red and I nearly laughed in her face. Then I thought it was so real and familiar that it probably wasn't deja vu but that she had probably said the exact same thing to me the last time I went through security at Aldergrove. I can't be certain but it was just such a strange sensation. Especially because my reaction to her comment felt so vividly familiar. My reaction was to just stand there being searched and dumbfounded as to why she would even say this in the first place. Did I look like she was doing something to me? It wasn't just what she said but her tone of voice when saying it. She probably says it to everyone she searches because she's fed up with the whole lesbian stereotype that female airport security only do their job to cop a feel of women's tits*

Anyway, she freaked my mind a little bit just because of the feeling of deja vu. I almost wanted to go back and ask her if she says that to a lot of people she searches. But I didn't, so I was left wondering.

It was nice being back in Stoke. As much as I hate the place it's like a second home to me. I saw Gravy Dave and Miss C, I saw Pirate John and Captain Tor. Tor is still going on about Nelly's spicy chicken wings being the best he ever tasted and he promises next time he's over he will be cooking for Nelly. I thought about going to visit Santa in his grotto at the Potteries shopping centre but I couldn't tell if it was still free. The fact that the queue was significantly shorter than when I worked ther suggested it probably cost money. I was reading an article about the cost of visiting Santa in shopping centres in Norn Iron just before Christmas. The average cost was around 6 pounds to visit Santa but a lot were 10 pounds. A couple were free but the child got no present and you had to bring your own camera. The most expensive was the Castlecout centre in Belfast, costing 20 pounds per child to visit Santa. Crazy. Scary. Obscene. Anyway, there endeth my Christmas rant.





*Ok so maybe I'm making this sterotype up but I'm sure someone once told me that. Anyway, I'm a sociology student, I don't believe in stereotypes so this doll just annoyed me in assuming that I might believe in sterotypes.

Buttons For Dirt Bird

Yay! Dirt Bird's home for Christmas. She came round on Sunday evening for a coupla pear ciders and beers. We had pleasant chat and drank and were merry. She also came round last night (Tuesday night) for much of the same thing. We had pleasant chat, we drank and were merry ('tis Christmas after all). I reminded her last night that we had a really funny conversation on Sunday but I couldn't remember what it was. After a while Dirt Bird remembered. She said we were talking about me having to clone myself. I said that it would never do as I knew rightly that my clone would get to do all the good stuff while I was stuck with the crappy things. She'd be off galivanting in South America while I was stuck in Next saying Do you want a copy of the Directory? I'd have to kill her and then I would be done for murdering myself. No, it would never do.

So Dirt Bird says...damn I wish she was here now 'cos I've forgotten what she said but it was something along the lines of...yeah but you could make the clone so that it had a little button and when you pressed it you experienced what your clone was experiencing. Hmmm. Good idea. But, I suggested, wouldn't it be better to just make the clone so it was your slave and it had to do whatever you told it? Yeah, says Dirt Bird, and when it was naughty or misbehaving there would be a little button you could press so that it would self-destruct.

I think it's kinda sweet, her obsession with buttons. She said she'd be like Father Dougal Maguire when he was in the cock pit of a plane and he was told not to push the big red button. I might buy her a toy for Christmas. One with lots of buttons to press.

Would Aybody Drink Vodkat?

It's funny how things can lie around the house for so long that eventually you stop even noticing they're there. When we moved in our next door neighbour (the one who's not Irish) called round with a bottle of Vodkat. Someone had given it to him but neither he nor the wife drank the stuff so he was offering it to us. Never one to look a gift horse in the eye, Jamie accepted graciously. I was upstairs at the time so that's where Jamie brought it. Neither me or Jamie would lip the stuff either so I put it on top of the chest of drawers. Now 8 months later I am only just noticing it. It will probably stay there til we move out or we have a visit from an alcoholic. I'm sure even an alcoholic would turn their nose up at it and say do ye not have any buckfast?

I Wish I could Do This

On the way home from work tonight I bumped into the Two Rons' daughter who works in Eason's. Eason's is Jamie's favourite shop in the whole of Ballymena (which says a lot about Ballymena). He can stand in there for hours looking at all the different computer magazines on sale. It also sells cards, stationery, books, sweets, cigarettes and the lottery. It can be a pretty busy shop on a Saturday afternoon. The Two Rons' daughter was telling me that she was expecting to get the hoof because of what she did one day.

She was serving 2 girls who were so busy blabbing on about what they were going to wear to Kelly's that night that they didn't hear her say that's four pound thirty-six please. So these two girls were blabbing away and a queue was forming behind them and the Two Rons' daughter asked again louder. The girl fumbled in her purse, pulled out a twenty pound note and slammed it down on the counter. The Two Rons' daughter got the girl her change and slammed it back down on the counter. The wee girl being served looked at her and says cheeky bitch. The Two Rons' daughter said that before she knew what she was doing she'd rolled the girl's recipt up into a little ball and flicked it off her forehead.

I'm Smokin

I'm Smokin
Originally uploaded by jazzthefunk.

There's a reason why Jamie's looking so pleased with himself...

He's got an audition with Urban Strawberry Lunch, a community organization who run workshops teaching kids to play junk instruments. He'd worked with them before in Stoke and they asked him to apply for the position about two months ago. The posiotion is for 4 months in Liverpool. His audition is on the 5th of December so good luck baby, don't be nervous.

Goodbye Bob

Jamie and I had adopted a pet fly. We called him Bob. We missed the company of cats and dogs so much that we needed a pet of own.

At first we didn't really like Bob. Jamie had tried capturing him several times with a glass and a sheet of paper. But he was too cunning for us. He grew very fond of me and Jamie and would follow us from the kitchen to the livingroom. At one point we thought he was following us to the bathroom and the bedroom but it turned out that was another fly. That one didn't stay with us for very long and he left one evening when me and Jamie were heading out the door. I thought it was Bob that had left but when we got back he was still there. That's when we realised we'd had two pet flies. Bob was always our favourite though.

Now it's been a week and I haven't seen Bob. I think he's died. He lived with us for about seven weeks I'm sure. I miss him. I miss saying hello to him. I miss him buzzing around the room. I miss watching Jamie try to capture him and being outwitted every time. Sometimes he was pesky but I wouldn't have had him any other way. Now we're petless once again. We're thinking of getting a spider because although we loved Bob we don't want any more flies in the house.

Dreamin'

When there's nothing interesting going on in the real world what else is there to talk about but dreams. I've had some fantastic dreams in my life but also some pretty spooky ones too. They say if you die in a dream then you die in real life but that's not true. I had this dream when I was about 8 or 9. I was in my bedroom and there was this huge yellow spider there. It was about the size of a dog. There was something on the floor I was reaching out for and the spider zapped out one of it's long yellow legs, snapped it around my wrist and gave me an electric shock. Although it didn't hurt it killed me. My mum came up to the room a few seconds after and seeing me lying dead she held me in her arms and cried. I still remember vividly feeling my mum's grasp, hearing her tears and thinking oh my god this is awful, I'm dead but I'm still conscious. I awoke from this dream feeling scared and ran straight to my mum's room where everyone was already awake. There had been a huge storm that night which none of us slept through, except for Zoe.

It was a pretty horrible dream but it wasn't the scariest dream I ever had. I dreamt once that I was down in Kerry at my aunt's house. No one else was there though except for a big man with a caveman's club who was chasing me round. I gave him a good chase but he finally caught up with me and when he did I lay on the ground, rolled myself up in a ball and braced myself for the club coming smashing down on my head. I woke up before it did. I was freaked but went promptly back to sleep and had exactly the same dream again only this time he was chasing me with an axe. The same thing happened and he caught up with me but just before the axe hit me I woke up again. This time I was even more freaked but I still went back to sleep. I had the dream for a third time. Same guy, same scene, only this time it was a gun. I was inside my aunt's house this time, cowering on her stairs, when he got in, found me and pointed the gun to my head. I braced myself for the inevitable but woke up just before he shot me. This time I forced myself to stay awake. There was no way I was having that dream again.

Aren't they mad things dreams? The way they can make you experience all these feelings and emotions that just aren't real. I said to Jamie wouldn't it be cool if we shared dreams. If people could experience the same dreams as each other. He thought it would be a nightmare. I said it could be beautiful too. I would hate to never dream again. Even if it means you have to experience nightmares too.

Last night I dreamed about having a pet spider. I just watched it running around on the floor. I lay down to be closer to it but then I couldn't see where it had gone. Assuming it was probably on me I jumped and flailed around so much (cos I'm scared of spiders and don't like them on me) that I was sure I had killed it. My dad came into the room and I told him what had happened. He looked on the floor and saw a tiny little black ball. It was my little dead spider and I felt so bad. But when he picked it up it opened out it's wings and flew off. It wasn't my spider it was a fly.

I had a strange dream last year when I was living with my dad in Leek. I was in my bedroom and two of my cats were at the far end of the room by the door. Attila and Tooty Cat who were both dead so I was really pleased to see them. I wanted to come across the room to pet them but I couldn't. There was an obstacle. Hundreds of rats running around the floor. A carpet of rats. There were several things going through my head. A longing to see these cats that I hadn't seen for ages. A fear for the safety of the cats because I thought the rats would maul them. A longing to get to my cats to rescue them and a fear that I couldn't reach them because it would mean standing on the rats and I couldn't do that. My dad came up to the room and without actually saying or doing anything he had fixed the problem. Only the cats had gone by then and the rats were still there but they were underneath the carpet and it was bulging and moving.

The thing about dreams though is there very personal. They can blow you head away but no one else can really understand. It's not like in the waking world when people experience things and we can feel empathy. Empathy is a void feeling when it comes to people's dreams. So if you find my ramblings rather tedious then I don't blame you.

I Wish It Was Spring

I hate winter. I use up all my energy hating winter so much that I am too tired to do anything else. I wish I could just hibernate. I have been trying to convince myself that winter's not so bad. I've been trying to convince myself that the christmas lights are comforting but they're not a patch on natural daylight. As soon as the clocks go back I'm counting down the days to the shortest day of the year. Then after that I try to convince myself it's getting noticably lighter each day. I then count down the days 'til the day the clocks go forward. I don't care if I have to get up for work an hour earlier because there is a whole hour of extra light at night. It's spring time. Everything comes back to life. The trees are green again, the flowers come out and the wee lambs are in the fields. It's spring and there's still summer to look forward to. I love that time of year.

Rich in Coppers and Euros and Vouchers

Jamie and I are are beginning to realise how badly addicted to sweets and sugar we are. I get paid monthly and always cover the rent, splurge and wind up skint after 2 weeks. Fortunately, Jamie gets paid weekly and so we never run out of money and if we do it's always the day before Jamie gets paid.

Last night I sent Jamie up to the shop to get sweets with our last 50p. About an hour and a half later I wanted more. Me and Jamie sat on the sofa giggling and daring each other to go to the shop with our millions of coppers to get sweets and juice. I refused on the grounds that they would hate us for making them count all the coppers. Then I remembered I had some Euros left over from Connermara. So I says to Jamie:

You know they accept Euros in Next. You should go up with that 10 euro note and buy a pack of cards and you'll get the change back in sterling. And there's all them Next vouchers of mine. You could go up and buy a pack of christmas cards with them and get the change back.

I decided we couldn't do that 'cos everyone would know it was my boyfriend and I'd sent him there to get money and they'd think I was dead scabby. Then we realised that we had gone no longer than an hour and a half without money to buy sweets and already we were demented with the withdrawal symptoms. We thought about how we could go to the shop and if they didn't except our coppers we could give them our euros, and if they didn't take them we could give them a next voucher, and if they didn't take them we'd just run away with the sweets and juice. In the end we just suffered it and had tea and toast instead.

Hey Harry

High Five
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

I suppose it was time that I commented on Harrybo. What a cat! what a good/bad cat. I'm so glad that I bonded with him when he was a kit. I was home that summer and he was like my baby. I watched him grow in my arms. I listened to his purrs. I let him dig his claws into me when he was trying to squeeze milk out of my armpit. When he was cute he was very cute but when he was bad he was very very bad.

I remember him going through adolesence. He could be really scary. He'd get an evil glint in his eye and you knew he was going to pounce. If you dared to tickle his belly when he was in a fighting mood, he'd grab your hand with all four of his limbs, dig the claws in and pierce your skin with his teeth. He'd follow me up to bed and I would lie there cowering. Scared to move my feet in case he attacked, scared to turn the page of a book in case he pounced on my fingers.

But he grew up. He hunted the wee birds rather than the humans and the dogs. He became huge. He was good fun. He was happy. We all loved him. The last time I saw him he made sure he cuddled me. Jamie commented on what a beautiful face he had. He was beautiful all over though his belly was a bit saggy. I fed the dogs at mum's the other night and Bert asked me if I missed him mewing for his food. I hadn't thought about it but I did look at his cat food and feel a pang.

Harry kept me company all last winter. In the dark mornings getting up for work Harry was always there mewing for his food. He was an amazingly clever cat who could send faxes, re-tune the TV and change the ringtone of the phone. He didn't jump on the kitchen surfaces like the bad Tooty Cat and the evil Muff. He was a dab hand at psyching out Swisser when she was visiting. She'll miss him. We all will.

Michael Is Fragile

Jamie had me in stitches last night. I'd just got in from having a pint with one of the girls I work with. I don't know how long Jamie had been pondering for, possibly all day, but he asked me, in all seriousness, how was he going to meet Michael Jackson. We discussed the many ways he could meet him but then Jamie was worried that he might just sound like an idiot when he eventually does.

'I want him to take me seriously. I want to make a record with him' Jamie says.

'Well, go up to him and say I've always respected you as a musician, I'd be honoured to make some music with you'

'I know what to say to him but how do I get to him in the first place. He doesn't deal with adults he only likes kids. He's not a paedophile. He just likes kids better.'

'You know what you have to do then, adopt a kid to get closer to Michael.'

'I have to have a kid. You have to stop taking the pill.'

'OK, we'll have a baby and we'll call him Bait'

And at that we chuckled. Then I said what a good story for my blog this would make and Jamie tells me that I can't write it. Why not?

'What if Michael reads your blog, he'll be offended.'

I laughed my head off.

'As if Michael Jackson is going to be reading my blog Jamie'

'No but he might just stumle across it and then he'll never want to make a record with me'

'Ok let me do the story and if he reads it you can pretend you don't know me'

'Yeah but there's photos of me plastered all over your blog and Michael will be like there's that dick who's calling his child Bait so he can meet me.'

How I laughed. I laughed and laughed and told Jamie that I would tell the story and if he ever gets to meet Michael I'll delete the post.

'But he's fragile. How would you like it if I jepordized your plans to meet Courtney Love?'

'But I'm not desperate enough to meet Courtney Love'

'Michael's more fragile than Courtney Love'

'I think Courtney's more fragile'

Then we proceeded to argue over who was more fragile, Jackson or Love. Then Jamie pointed out that we were arguing over which of our idols was the weakest.

I says 'I liked this conversation better before you brought Courtney Love into it, when you sounded like the mental one and I sounded sane'

So if Michael and Jamie become chums I will delete this post. For Michael is a fragile soul and we can't be upsetting his chakras. As for Courtney Love. I have no great desires to meet her and if I do I won't be wanting to make any music with her. And she will not even care that my child is called Bait, after all her's is called Frances Bean.

I'm A Laaaydeee

Since working in Next I have been forced to recognise my inner female. This means caring about such things as; jewelry, make-up, nice hair and tailored clothes. Anyone who knows me well knows that I never wear make-up, dye my hair until it has a straw-like texture, wear baggy clothes that give me no shape whatsoever and have more important things to spend my money than on accessories. But alas! They got me and they are trying to make lady out of me.

I used to wear jewelry but it was always of the hand-made variety. I once had a collection of barcelets on my wrist made up of tat, toot and shoelaces. They became so manky that I took them off and left them on a coach in Dublin. I have recived many wonderous hand-made bracelets, necklaces and earrings as gifts from friends and family. It got me thinking about how much nicer a beaded necklace can be when made by the fair hands of someone who knows you and cares about you. So Zoe called round last night with a box of tricks. Thousands of beads and wire and tools and catches. While Jamie entertained himself with a film called Slither (complete an utter tosh!) I set about making some Christmas presents.

Me and my sisters were always making things out of fimo when we were younger. We could have hours of fun making badges and bracelets and magnets. The last time I used fimo it was the special soft stuff with bits of glitter in it. When I took my hand-crafted goods out of the oven they had burnt and melted. I should have read the instructions.

Jamie's Dreams Come True

I've just read a Reveal exclusive. Jacko moves to Ireland. Jamie's dead excited and thinking that we'll go stay with him at Lugalla Castle in Wicklow and do some recording with him. Jamie has always been a Michael Jackson fan. He learnt all the moves when he was a kid and even wore a white glove for a time. I've always thought Michael Jackson was a bit of a freak. Never mind the whole child abuse allegations, he was just freaky. So I find it hard to understand Jamie's fascination with him. Especially when he claims to be so intrigued with Ireland that he once bid on ebay for a 'real Irish ghost' trapped in a bottle after exorcism and is rumoured to be creating a theme park called Leprechaun Land. That's all we need. Leprechaun Land.

Babies Are So Boring

Last night I dreamt I was pregnant and I had a baby. Does this mean I'm broody and want to start a family? Probably not, judging by the things I said in this dream, like, babies are so booorring, all they ever do is sleep and looking at my tummy and saying I can't believe it's gone back to normal so quickly, I thought it'd be really saggy.

In the time between writing this blog and the last I have been reversed into by a car on a one way street, been bought a bottle of perfume from a customer who I helped, been down drinking in Gillies bar even though I'm barred, had a very pleasant day out in Belfast with Zoe, almost handed my notice in at work but then thought better of it, have decided to become a plumber, joiner, counsellor and social worker depending on what day of the week it is and who I've been talking to.

So, as you can see, I've been busy. We had a surprise visit from some of Jamie's friends who were over for a wedding. That's why we down at Gillies because the wedding reception was at Galgorm Manor. The bouncer who barred us just glared. I think he's probably scared of me.

This weekend I'm taking it easy. The weather is crisp and sunny, perfect for dog-walking and photo-taking. Why does the sun only shine in Ireland when it's baltic outside?

Pissed Off

I'm pissed off, your pissed off, everybody's pissed off. You're pissed off because I'm pissed off. I'm pissed off because you're pissed off that I'm pissed off. You get even more pissed off because I won't stop being pissed off. I won't stop being pissed off because you're pissed off that I'm pissed off and so the vicious cycle of being pissed off continues. And it pisses me off.

The Weekend

My week off from work was bliss. I pottered about, played lots of literati and made Jamie his lunch and dinner every day. I realised that although I'd probably hate it I'd make a pretty good house-wife. Note I said house-wife and not domestic goddess.

Tomingus Domingus arrived on Thursday evening. We woke up Friday morning and headed into town to visit the shop that sells Polish food stuffs. Bert has been ranting and raving about this place for weeks. Telling me the stuff's amazing although he doesn't know what the half of it is. I bought some Birch Juice and some kiwi jelly.

Later on Tom and I went for a walk in the park. We got excited about the different kinds of trees and tried to work out which ones were which. Botany's not my best subject though so it was tough. We then met up with my friend Meghan and had a couple of drinks with her. We headed back home for some dinner then went to pick up Zoe to take her for a drink. We left at a respectable hour, went to the off-licence and then went back home for a game of Trivial Pursuit. Tomingus won, Jamie came second and me last. I didn't care though because I'd got 4 pieces of pie which is more than I ever get when I play. Go me.

Saturday morning we took Tom to Glenarife Forest even though that's where we take everyone when they come to visit. He loved it there and didn't complain atall. We then went for some lunch in Cushendun and finished off with a drive along the Torr Road. After that we went home and later went to mum's for some tasty curry(visit Nelly's Garden for details). Then we ate cake.

Today I had to go to work which was a really shitty way to end an otherwise perfect weekend. Having said that it wasn't too bad and now I'm home relaxing again.

A Letter From Rosie

Paddy and Rosie Vs The World
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

This lovely picture was found in my mail this morning. A letter was attached:

Dear Auntie Hannah and Uncle Jamie,

Me and Paddy are just sending you this picture to remind you what the 2 bestest dogs in Ireland look like.
We were wondering if maybe we had done something to upset you or Uncle Jamie. It's just that you don't really take us out much anymore. I know we went to Gillies the other day but then you had a fight with that guy and he made you tie us up.
Anyway, I guess you're maybe just busy these days but me and Paddy wanted you both to know that we're here and we're bored so if you did fancy taking a wee drive somewhere we'd be happy to accompany you,

Love and Woofs,

Rosie and Paddy


P.S. Paddy says he's even better at tugging and there's no way Uncle Jamie'll ever beat him now.

I Am The Hoff

Knight Rider Hasselhoff You are Knight Rider Hasselhoff. You kick ass, you're dead sexy, AND you are the proud owner (or perhaps life partner) of a talking black Trans-Am. What else could one ask for? Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

Thank God I wasn't drunk and disorderly David Hasselhoff.

Hopes and Dreams

After the dreaded visit with the career's advisor I was feeling disheartened and disillusioned. What little aspiration and direction I had for a career was swept, like a carpet, from underneath my feet. I especially enjoyed the bit when she asked me Have you considered a career in banking, buisness, call-centres? Of course I have but then I decided that I'd rather kill myself.

So this leads to me to where I am at now. No longer disheartened. No longer disillusioned. What's the point sure it's only a career. It's only what we spend most of our lives doing. And considering that it really is what we spend most of our lives doing I've decided that the only way forward is self-employment.

I want to do a course in joinery. I don't know where yet or how yet or for what outcome but hopefully the outcome will lead to me doing something creative, like cabinet making. I have my Kerry Aunt to thank for this decision. When I was younger I decided I wanted to be a carpenter after seeing my Kerry Aunt put a kitchen in for my Granny and Granda. I was young and may have got my facts wrong but it is what I believed at the time and on that belief I decided I was going to be a carpenter. The nearest to wood I ever got was making a wooden Danny dog (which stood proudly in the house for years until kindling was needed for the fire and poor wooden Danny dog met his fate).

As with all children, the notion of becoming a carpenter was replaced with notions of becoming a vet, lawyer, criminal psychologist. The subjects I chose at school didn't direct me in the way of carpentry and after all those years here I am with a (nearly) completely usesless Sociology degree. But hey! I'm 24 and it's not too late to learn the trade and it's not too late to learn it and decide it's not for me after all. It's just nice to have an aspiration. It's just nice to know that I don't have to work in Next for the rest of my life. Or a bank, or a call-centre.

A Smile

When I was 18 I did a bit of travelling round Europe for 5 weeks. At the end of the 5 weeks I wasn't ready to back home again so I stayed in Holland for a further 6 weeks and worked in a tulip bulb factory. The work was tedious and for 5 of those weeks we had to endure 12 hour shifts. The village campsite where we stayed at was in the arse end of no where and a trip to the big city or nearest town was something that could only been achieved at the weekend.

A lot of people left. It wasn't quite the 'Holland Experience' they'd been hoping for. Nor was it for the rest of us who stayed but it was an experience all the same. I don't think I could've survived the gruelling work schedule , sleeping in a tent and the lack of contact from the real world, if it hadn't been for the people who I worked with and one girl in particular, wee Sarah Jane. She was working in Holland to save up a bit of money before going back to uni. She'd just taken a gap year off to travel round Asia and Australia. She was my kind of girl. Open to everything. Expecting nothing. She had an old school tent! A triangular one. You never see these anymore. She was a hippy but without the cliches.

We kept in contact when we came back from Holland. I made her tapes of all the music I was missing when we were there. She sent me an email which she had written to her parents before she came home from travelling. It was thanking them for letting her live her dream. She told them of all her wonderful experiences. She told them of what she had learned.

'A smile can cross all political, economical, racial and sexual divides, it can speak more than a thousand words, it can bring joy and peace and it's presence, or lack of it, can make a traveller's day, or ruin it.'

Sarah Jane helped me survive Holland. She helped me with smiles and laughs and listening open-mindedly. At the same time I can't ignore the other people who worked there because they also helped me survive. The English couple who were just normal, the mad Scottish man who thought us Irish were crazy for liasing with the English people, Damien for lending me his walkman and Beatles tapes, Johnny for letting me fight with him and playing guitar in the evenings, the Ballymena man who reminded me that no matter what obscure part of the world you might be in, home is never far away, familiarity is always there.

I'd never seen a shooting star til I was away that summer. I thought they were make-believe. But now I know that they exist and wherever you go, if you open your eyes and look, you'll see them.

Barred Already

Readers of Nelly's blog will know that for quite a few months her favourite river path walk from Cully to Gillies was closed due to refurbishments. Oh how we couldn't wait for the river path to be open again. Oh how we couldn't wait for Gillies to be open again. There's nothing like going for a walk along the river on a Sunday and calling in at Gillies for a swift one. And of course you couldn't go a walk along the river without bringing the trusty dogs.

Yesterday Jamie, Bert and I decided to do just that. Take the dogs for a walk and call in at Gillies. None of us had been since it had re-opened. Me and Jamie had been down once before with the dogs but couldn't find Gillies and so got our drinks from the hotel and sat in the outside facilities. Some serious money has gone into that place to provide the perfect outside drinking arena.

When we got there yesterday we managed to find Gillies. I waited outside while Bert and Jamie went to get the drinks. I was about to take the good dogs off their lead when the bouncer came out.

'No dogs allowed'

I looked at him.

'You have to take the dogs outside'

'We are outside' I says to him

'No, no, no. No dogs allowed in here, you have to take them out'

'My boyfriend's already getting our drinks what are we supposed to do with them?'

'It's not my problem, No dogs allowed. Now take them out'

'I'll just wait for them to come out so they know where I am'

"No. You take the dogs out now'

I refused, point blank, claiming that if Jamie and Bert came out with the drinks they would worry if they did not know where I was. Which was a lie but I don't like to be bossed around.

So the irate bouncer went into get Jamie. Apparently I'd pissed him off already and he was taking no shit from Jamie.

He says to Jamie 'Is that woman outside your girlfriend?'

Jamie says yes. The bouncer asked him to come outside as I had dogs and they weren't allowed. Jamie say 'Yeah, just a minute I'm just getting a drink'

The bouncer says "No now, You come Now!'

When Jamie and the bouncer came back we went outside (even though we were already outside) and I tied the dogs up to a post. I stood by the gates watching their sad little faces. The bouncer says to us

'No, you sit in there' pointing to the area we'd just removed the dogs from.

So he wanted the dogs out there, he wanted us in here. Hmmm, thought I. Somone clearly trying to exert some kind of authority. It didn't wash with me. I've seen dogs in there before. When it was the old Gillies there was never a problem having the dogs sit outside with you. If they really don't want dogs now there should be a sign saying 'No Dogs Allowed: Except guide dogs'. But of course a red and white sign stating thus would be far too tacky for the new Gillies.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we were barred. Our first time at the new Gillies and we were barred within minutes. They'd need to watch out though for their bouncer is so quick to bar people that they'll end up with no clientele to drink there. Young Rooney was barred before he even got inside. New Gillies, impressed? Definitely not.

Whatever Happened To...

Creamola Foam - You know the drink that was powder and you had to mix water with it. I have scoured the supermarkets nationwide looking for this stuff but it seems to have vanished off the face of the earth.

Hedgehog flavoured crisps - There's only about 3 people in the whole world that even remember them but they did exist. And now they don't. They were pretty disgusting anyway.

Chocolate flavoured crisps - These were horrible anyway. A bit like those chocolate covered pretzels. Whatever happened to them aswell?

Jolly Ranchers - I know what happened to them. The Americans kept them all for themselves. Greedy bastards.

Secret bars - These were dead nice chocolate bars with a rich thick chocolatey mousse covered in thin wispy strands of chocolate. They were delicious. I know what happened to them because I wrote a letter to Nestle. They were taken off the market because the cost of production was too high and sales weren't good enough. They wouldn't give me the recipe.

Vice Versas - The sweets where the white ones were brown chocolate and the brown ones were white chocolate. Such a novel idea.

Rusks - Maybe they do still exist and it's just 'cos I'm an adult I never see them anymore.


But of all these, most nimportantly, whatever happened to Creamola foam. I'd give my right arm and left leg for the stuff. It was probably taken off the market for being dead rancid and poisonous and burning holes in kiddies' stomachs but I still want some.

Sleep Deprived

It just had to be one of those mornings. It had to be. Today is the first day of a week's holiday off work and last night was one of the extremely rare occasions that I suffered from insomnia. I didn't get to sleep 'til half four and had been reading through millions of old letters that friends and family. They made me smile. At 8:30 this morning I was awoken by an incessant 'Meep Meep Meep' noise every 2 minutes. The electricity had run out and Jamie's battery for his computer was telling me it was time to get up and go to the shop to get some more.

Dishevelled was not the word. I pulled some clothes on, made an attempt to pass a comb through my hair and headed out the door. I had to. No electricity means no kettle for coffee and since I'd been woken from slumber too early I was going to need plenty. I went to the cash point by the garage. I can sort of understand why the ATM gives you back your card before it gives you your money but in my confused and sleepy state I took my cash card and turned on my heel. The fella waiting behind me looked at me and said 'D'ye not want your money pet?'

The Modern Congregation

When it came down to it, writing an essay wasn't as fun as I thought it would be. In fact, it's damn hard work. So I didn't do it. I have been given some food for thought though and I have exercised my brain more than I have in a long time (unless you count doing crosswords and playing with Rubicks cubes, which I don't).

Nelly's title made me ponder mental illness with regards to celebrity culture. It seems that celebrities are keen to share their personal lives, warts and all, and many famous people; artists, musicians, actors, etc. have well publicised histories of mental illness. Does this make them seem more human, like the rest of us? Some would argue yes, it does. Others may claim that it is easier for celebrities to admit they have mental health problems. After all, they have the money to book themselves into the Priory clinic while us mere mortals have to contend with the NHS and 'care in the community' services and we all know how useful these are. Some say that famous people who suffer from mental health problems are bathed in glory. Take Kurt Cobain for example, who suffered from severe depression, drug abuse and suicidal fantasies. The man may as well be the messiah as far as his fans were concerned. The common people are merely judged and stigmatised if they are labelled mentally ill.

So, does celebrity status lead some people to develop mental illness due to the pressures of fame, or are mentally ill people more likely to seek out stardom due to some form of narcissum. I'd argue both. The fact is that celebrities are normal people like you and me and just as a percentage of us will suffer from mental illness so will a percentage of celebrities. It is up to the individual how they deal with it. If celebrities want to shout it from the roof tops or deny it even though it's blatantly obvious then that is their choice.

Anyway, moving on to Mr. Toaster's suggestion of a modern day replacement for Satan. Do we need one? That doesn't matter anyway, there will always be something, or someone, to represent the evil, horned, red man. Some politicians spring to mind. George W. Bush could well be the devil in disguise but I doubt it. I think the modern day replacement for Satan is more likely to have taken the form of the interweb. Think about it, anybody, anywhere in the world has 24/7 access to all types of evil via the net. So next time your innocently chatting to dirrtydevil666 maybe, just maybe, you are chatting to the devil himself. I've heard he's a regualr reader of Nelly's Garden. Oh, and another obvious modern day replacement for Satan would be Santa but he doesn't exist.

And, fianlly, on to Ed's suggestion. The classical orgins of well-established Neighbour's characters. I found this the hardest subject of all so maybe I'm not much of an expert on Neighbours after all. I'm afraid Ed, I'll have to lose the marks for references to non-biblical works published before 1700. Jamie always says that Neighbours is like the modern congregation. Millions of people tune in at the same time everyday and learn good old fashioned morals and values. With that in mind, Harold Bishop is obviously John the Baptist. Helen Daniels was the Virgin Mary herself. Jim Robinson and Anne Daniels were Adam and Eve which inevitably means that Scott Robinson was Abel and Paul Robinson was Cain. Lou Carpenter is Zeus the tax collector. Unfortunately I can't work Karl and Susan Kennedy into the equation but I do remember one of my friends (not Dirt Bird) decided to name her breasts after them so I guess that's their classical origin.

Thankyou all for the input. I hope I didn't disappoint by being a lame arse and not actually writing any essays atall but I'd fogotten what a pain in the bum researching and referencing and structuring could be. I enjoyed giving my brain a work out but I'm just glad that I'm not being tested on it anymore.

Back To School

For a while now I've been feeling restless and discontent. I have a desire to be creative but I'm totally uninspired. I think I know what's wrong with me though. I miss education. Even though I hated school and hate exams and deadlines I love to learn. I just like doing it in my own time. So how do I go about this problem? Well, I put it to you, my readers (all 3 of them, Nelly, Jamie and Stray Toaster) to set me an essay title so that I can expand my mind. Bear in mind though that I was a sociology student so no essays about quantum physics Mr. Toaster. My specialist subjects are: Neighbours, dogs, how to sell the new Autumn/Winter Next Directory and Courtney Love (I actually did manage to write an essay about Courtney Love for my degree. I wrote 3000 words on it which nearly killed me and found out after I handed it in that it was only meant to be a 1000 word essay. Damn!)

Working in a shop turns the brain to mush and sucks the soul clean out of you so I need to keep my mind active otherwise I'll get senile dementia at the age of 30 and nobody wants that. Anyway, the essay title doesn't have to be on one of my specialist subjects. It wouldn't be challenging enough and I need a challenge. It can be on anything you so desire, except quantum physics.

No Such Thing As Satan

A few weeks ago when we were down visiting the Derry Man for his birthday we got chatting about Santa Claus and how we came to find out that he didn't exist. The Sniper (a lovely friend of mine) said when he found out there was no such thing as Santa he wasn't upset that he didn't exist but he was extremely pissed at his parents for lying to him for all those years.

How I came to find out that Santa didn't exist was partly due to my incessant nagging at my mum to get me a Space buggy that cost a million pounds. I think I was about 7 at the time and mum tried to explain that although Santa delivered the presents it was in fact the parents who had to pay for them. I was too young to understand the concept of money and continued to nag and nag and nag until mum yelled at me to give over sure there was no such thing in Santa anyway. Although people often say 'awww' when I tell them this story really it done me no harm whatsoever. Christmas was always a special time in our family and knowing that Santa didn't exist meant I had weeks of fun before Christmas finding out what mum and dad had hidden away for me.

Once I had established that Santa didn't exist it opened up whole new possibilities for me. If Santa didn't exist then the Devil probably didn't either. I had hours of fun at school telling the other kids that I didn't believe in the Devil. I loved the way they looked at me in disbelief and then told me I would go to hell for sure. I loved smiling back at them and saying 'how can I go to hell if I don't believe it exists'.

But of course, Santa does exist. I know because I worked for him. And he's no where near as fat as he used to be. I think Gillian McKieth had words with him.

Swisser Vs Harry

Thanks to Dirt Bird my otherwise sophisticated weekend has been tainted with scary mental images of big hairy rockers receiving 'soapy tit wanks' from young bar maids. Brrrrrr. Gives me shivers down my spine. Anyway, not to dwell on such things...

My otherwise sophisticated weekend involved going out for drinks with the girlies on Thursday night (of course Jamie was there, he loves hanging out with the girlies). We came home at a reasonable hour but after having drunk an unreasonable amount of whiskey in a short space of time and so the wee head was feeling a bit fragile the next day.

After we got over our hangovers we dolled ourselves up for an evening out at chez Nellybert's where we were entertained by Swisser chasing Harry ze C**t around the kitchen going 'Shoo! Shoo' and telling him to get out. That wasn't the funny bit though. The funny bit was the way Harry just looked at her like she was mad. Which she is. In a good way. And then as Swisser was bragging about how she'd 'seen to the cat' and 'I showed him' and there he was lounging on the kitchen floor behind her. Laughing his wee head off.

We woke up this morning and took the doglets for a walk. We took them to Portglenone forest as our second hangovers rendered us unable to think of somewhere different. The dogs didn't complain though. Rosie was a bit disappointed that we didn't take her round the forest for a second time but Paddy was fading a bit and so were we so we took them back.

All in all it was a pleasant weekend. Tonight we chill and watch the first coupla episodes of the 3rd series of Lost. And maybe a coupla episodes of Neighbours. Karl and Susan are back together and are spreading joy in Ramsay Street. Yay!

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

I am determined to suss out this buisness of linking. Hell, even Nelly can do it. Anyway, I came across this

If you're a Jack Black fan you should like. Or if your an LSD fan you should like it. In fact, you should just like it 'cos it's absolutely hilarious.

Hope it works!

The Dumb Things People Say

Everyone says stupid things. Here are some examples of the stupid things I say:

'Who is Mo Mowlam anyway?' My mum would swear this is the dumbest thing I've ever said but I think it is a perfectly reasonable question to ask.

'Are Buzzards called buzzards because the buzz?' At the time this seemed like a perfectly reasonable question to ask but now looking back I realise that it is a little bit silly.

Last night while watching a wildlife programme with Jamie and Bert. Jamie said he seen a dragonfly at work the other day. Bert says to him maybe it was a damsel fly he saw. Jamie reckoned it maybe coulda been. I says,

'Is it Kingfishers that are the wee blue ones?'

Jamie says, 'A Kingfisher's a bird Hannah'

'Oh aye, so it is.'


The funniest thing I've heard anyone say came from the mouth of Bertram. It was years ago and Jaffa cakes were doing a promotional thing where if you collected tokens and sent them away they would send you a glow-in-the-dark toy. I can't remember what the toy was but Bert was sat at the kitchen table scoffing the Jaffa's and investigating the box when he rips a Jaffa cake open and says,

'Do these things really glow in the dark?'

God only knows what damage we'd be doing to our internal organs if we really ate glow in the dark Jaffa cakes but Bert didn't seem to mind too much.

Careers Advise

So what exciting thing did I do on my day off? I went for an interview with a careers advisor. And was it inspiring and insightful? Of course it wasn't. I told the lady my position (working in retail, degree in sociology). I told her my plans for the future (further study, possibly a course in counselling or teacher training and then specialising in special needs tutoring) And was she encouraging? Was she f**k. She told me that counselling was difficult to get a full-time profession out of and it is more common to do counselling within a professional career such as nursing or social work. She told me they would be unlikely to accept me for a PGCE course as my degree wasn't relevant enough and, even then, to branch off into specialised tutoring was difficult to make a full-time career out of. She then asked me if I was interested in buisness, admin, office work or call-centres to which I promptly answered No. She then proceeded to encourage me to look into social work and nursing both of which I would rather avoid. It got to the point where I just wanted to yell at her 'Forget it, tell me how to become a carpenter.'

Damn!

I just checked to see if my link worked. It doesn't. Boooo! One more try then I give up. Click here to see the the new man of dreams. And if that doesn't work the correct web adress to access it (the one below is wrong, typical) http://www.fat-pie.com/chavs.htm

My New Darling

Our good friend Big Hand D, who was also in Derry with us last night, introduced us to this
charming young fellow. I think he's lovely and if I had the good fortune to meet this handsome fellow I would snap him up straight away and not waste a second before introducing him to my granny. This link probably won't work so if you're wondering what gorgeous sexy person I'm talking about you can also find him at www.fat-pie.com and scroll to the bottom for an interview with the beautiful Darren Banks, my future-to-be husband. Thanks Big Hand D for saving me from a future of misery with Jamie when my heart belongs to a greater man.

Derry and Dogs

Me and the mister have just got back from Derry after celebrating the big Derry Man's birthday. His lovely girlfriend Magda organised a surprise party for him and we were the surprise. We bought him a bottle of wine and a copy of the Beano. The Derry Man's family were also there and what a lovely family they are. They forced me to sing a song on the guitar and even though I was shaky and nervous they told me it was lovely. Steve;s mum said I had a lovely voice but I just need to work on my confidence. Derry definitely seems like a good place to move for a while. Me and Jamie like the vibe down there. At the minute anywhere seems better than Ballymena.

Me and Jamie and Zoe took the dogs a walk down the back lane at Nellybert's one day last week. Zoe wanted to find a field to throw ball for the dogs. The first field had cows so we walked on. Jamie stayed to talk to the cows for a bit. Zoe and I and the dogs moved on to the next field. The dogs were running round the field and Jamie started walking down to us and the cows started following him. It was then that we realised that it was the same field. We yelled at Jamie to stop walking as all the cows were running behind him. It was too late. Gracie had spotted the cows and charged full steam ahead. She chased them cows and once she was on their trail there was no stopping her. We yelled for ages and she eventually came back but not without giving us all heart attacks. Even though the cows were scared of her if one had stood on her or kicked her that would've been the end of Gracie Grew. For such a tiny dog she has the bravery of a T Rex.

Who'd Live In A Town LikeThis?

The weather's been awful for the past 2 days. Pissing rain and winds from hell. It's to be even worse tomorrow. Today the wind blew the clouds away and the sun was shining. This is the calm before the storm. The weather certainly reflects the mood in Ballymena at the minute. Moody and gloomy. Maybe it just reflects my mood but with the recent events I think everyone is feeling a bit unsettled.

I don't want to bring my kids up here. I'd like to bring them up in Ireland but not Ballymena. I love this town but I hate it. I think about my qualifications and what I can do with them in this town. Nothing. I never regret moving back here. There was little opportunity in Stoke for me either. One shit hole town's the same as the next shit hole town except that the shits who occupy the town have different accents.

It's a shame that when I do finally write something it's a moan but I don't feel taht fluffy at the minute. Even before the bad weather, the bad happenings and the bad vibes I was feeling washed out and angry with this town. I feel like it's stifling me. Sucking up my creative juices and leaving me totally uninspired. So that's inspired me to get a computer. If I can't find inspiration in my surroundings I'm gonna have to seek it out elsewhere. And since Jamie is surgically attached to his computer I have to get my own one.

What Kind Of Pirate Am I?

As always with me when I try to link up to something it never works but I thought I'd give it a go anyway.

What kind of pirate am I? You decide!
You can also view a breakdown of results or put one of these on your own page!
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

The Blind First Aider

I've never won a competition just because. I've always had to work my ass off for it. I came 3rd in the Directory competition and got 50 squids cash and 30 squids of vouchers (Next vouchers though, wouldn't you know). I'm just glad I don' t have to stand by that car anymore.

The weather is so bad that me and Jamie are just keeping a low profile. We haven't taken Paddy and Rosie anywhere for ages. They probably hate us now. Even though I got the picture of them blown up for mum's birthday.

They sent the first aid certificates to work a few days ago and the boss said we had to have our pictures taken and put up on the wall. In my photo I blinked, sort of kind of in purpose, so I wouldn't get blinded by the flash. I have my eyes shut and the biggest cheesiest grin. When I saw it this morning I went straight in and told Emma she had to take another picture. Another girl had her eyes half closed and some of the stockroom folk were laughing saying that she looked chinese and the other girl looked like a simpleton. Someone says,

'And what about Hannah what does she look like?'

'Well, she's got her eyes shut and a big silly grin. She's their love child.'

Then there were great roars of laughter. I don't know who I feel more sorry for, the Chinese, the simpleton or the love child.

Happy Birthday Nellymoms

Moms
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

No, this isn't mum's new hair do but it is quite similar to her new do. I know that there will probably be much protesting at this picture but I happen to think it is a lovely shot of Nelly. Anyway, photos and hair dos is not what's important. It's Nellymoms' birthday and that's what's important.


Happy Birthday Mum

Love you lots xx

Lost For Words Cos There's Too Many

I am totally lost for inspiration at the minute. I don't know why but I thought I'd look over some old books I used to write in to see if it would encourage me. I found something which made me smile. Seems that I am always lost for inspiration.

I feel sad beacuse I can't write anything beautiful. I can't create anything beautiful. Everything I think, I think it's all been thought before, so even if it's beautiful it won't belong to me. People say that being creative can make you happy and it's true. My eldest sister is the most contented person I know and she is always painting, knitting, crafting and cooking. She is a domestic goddess but that's not what makes her happy, that's what makes her boyfriend happy. I am rubbish at all of these. I can't paint, have no patience for knitting and get all hot and bothered in the kitchen. I am the furthest thing away from a domestic goddess. And I'm not that tidy either.

My other sister is a career girl. She is determined and independent. She is focused and strong-willed. She is also creative. But I'm not a career girl either. Nowhere near ambitious enough. Or hardwroking enough. And I've always believed that I'm not really that much good at anything except anagrams. But being good at anagrams doesn't get you that far in life. It just helps you do crosswords, I always thought that by improving my vocabulary I'd become a better writer but it becomes harder because there are more words to choose from.

I am no more inspired than I was to begin with but now there are more pressing matters at hand, like getting Nellymoms a birthday present.

Tinkerton Is Tempting

I'm seriously thinking about going for Nelly's job in Tinkerton when she quits it. Even that would be better than standing in front of a car, with a clip board, asking people if they want a copy of the Next Directory. Poeple are so untrusting of people standing in front of cars with clip boards. I don't blame them for I am too.

I am sick of all the bullshit that goes with my job. How the workers are not only expected to work their asses off bending over backwards for ungrateful customers but also act as walking advertisements for the merchandise. One week the manager is telling us she wants to see us in lots of nice accessories, the next week she's saying no more jewellery, it's too hard to tell if people are buying it on discount or stealing it. You wouldn't want to but the jewellery anyway, it falls to pieces in weeks.

Me and Jamface joined Bert and some of his chums for a day's frolicking in Portglenone. Me and Jamie didn't stay to see the Red Hot Chili Pipers but we enjoyed some local talent in O'Connell's and if Bert had seen those weans on the whistles he'd have been green with jealousy. Apart from that we have done nothing but watch Neighbours. Evil Rob Rob's not defeated yet.

It is only now that I am getting chance to write about my week. A very good one it was too. To ease our hangovers on Saturday we took Gravy Dave a drive around the country. We took him to Slemish but he didn't want to climb it 'cos there wasn't a pub at the top. So we took him to Ballycastle aswell and got excited about the Llama's Fair.

That evening we picked up one of my bestest friends Dirt Bird and her boyfriend Marc and took them out to see Nelly and Bert. As always Nelly had been working her magic in the kitchen and produced a mean Cheese, onion and spinach pie and a delicious apple and blackberry sponge. Gravy Dave provided the after dinner entertainment with a bit of poetry and Dirt Bird was reminded of her debauched antics from way back when.

On Sunday evening we drove Gravy and Dirt Bird and Marc down to Derry except that we forgot Dirt Bird and Marc at first and had to turn back to get them. We were going down to visit 2 of our lovely friends, the Derry Man and his beautiful Polish girlfriend Magdamigos. Everyone else stayed down their but me and Jamie had to head back for work work in the morning.

Tuesday after work I had a qick drink with one of the hottest chicks in Ballymena, the girl that Gravy Dave scored with on Friday. She told me that she really dug the Gravy boy and that he had lovely hair. Dirt Bird and Marc called round later with their chips from the Merchant fish bar, all folorn because they fry everything in beef stock and they're both veggies. We then headed out to meet Scullion and Big Hand D for a coupla drinks. We'd already decided on the way up to the bar that we would take a detour down Badtoad street to see if their were any Badtoads about. The Badtoads are a family in Ballymena that all look the same. They all have the same bowl haircut and wear their trousers pulled up to their nipples. Dirt Bird hadn't seen them in years and Marc and Jamie had never seen them so we thought we'd treat ourselves.

On the way up I kept saying that it was too dark and cold for the Badtoads to be standing outside their door watching the world go by but lo and behold they were out. We didn't even have to go down their street as they were walking to Mcgroggan's for some midnight snacks. I asked Marc if he had a chance to see them properly but he hadn't. So Dirt Bird suggested we go to McGroggan's aswell. We did but I couldn't keep a straight face in the shop especially after Mammy Badtoad asked Son Badtoad if he wanted a pot noodle. Marc had to leave the shop and all Jamie cared about was getting a wham bar. Me and Dirt Bird laughed are heads off though.

Then we had a wee drinky with Scullion and Big Hand D who have just recently got engaged so congratulations to them. The reason we call Scullion's finacee Big Hand D is because he cut his hand on glass when he was really drunk, it got infected and his hand swoll up 3 times the size. He said when he was in hospital the meanest nurse in the world stood over his bed and demanded that he got up and had a shower. Big Hand D said he felt so awful that he wanted just to lie there in his own dirt and he didn't care if there were flies buzzing around him. Jamie said he could picture him wafting the flies away with his massive swollen hand.

On wednesday night I called round to the birthday girl's and gave her birthday wine and a birthday voucher for Waterstones. I normally avoid birthday vouchers but I wanted to give someone their birthday present on their actual birthday for the first time and I couldn't find anything that she would've liked.

So that brings me to this morning. I have had a lovely lie in while poor Jamie's gone to work and I plan to take things easy this weekend. There's something going down at Portglenone this weekend so we might head down for a bit of banter and a few swallies but other than that I'll be doing nathin'