The Witched Wick of the Weest

I think I might be an apple connoisseur. This time of year the Royal Galas are in good stead. They must know it's the Queen's Jubilee next week. Normally I'm a Pink Lady kinda gal but they aren't so sweet this time of year. They're more of an autumn fruit. I'm not a big fan of a Grannysmith. They make my glands go a bit funny. And Golden delicious are neither golden nor delicious. But anyway, that's not what this post is about. This post is about, well, nothing in particular really. My life, though happy and relatively peaceful, is a little mundane at the moment.

I've been watching a series called Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction. As you can probably tell from the title it is American and total trash T.V. It's about strange coincidences and ghostly things and the point is to determine if they are true or not. It's one of those things that the more unbelievable it is the more likely they are to claim that it'a true. The believable ones are, apparently, codswallop. Anyway, I told Jakers the other morning that I had a rather pointless dream about his block of flats being redecorated. He'd been staying at mine and I joked about how funny it would be if he went home and they were decorated. We both agreed that would be a story (albeit a very boring one) for BBFF. Turns out that Jakers block wasn't redecorated but his next door neighbour had repainted their door. I don't care how pointless and random it is I still think it's a bit freaky. Being psychic would surely be a curse. I like the unknown. I like surprises (so much so that I requested a surprise birthday party). I like the suspense. Being psychic would be a total burden and not to mention the fact that if I was in a different era I would be burned at the stake as a witch. I don't want to be a witch. I want to be a clown. I know they're just as scary but I view juggling as a much more worthy pastime than casting spells and cursing people.

Captured

Awwww it would be lovely if the weather was scorchio all the time. It's warm at work with all the machines running and so the working day is torture but it's worth it for the warm balmy evenings. Puts me in the mood for a spot of photography. And I have found a stash of Kodak film at Poundland which means I can get trigger happy with my Pentax SLR.

Judy and Bonnie happily pose in the lawn for me. You can tell they've done this before.

This is the trendy man's choice of footwear. Bert and Wee Nes model the spring/summer '12 collection.

Wee Nes sporting a fine pair of shades and a very lovely glass of wine modelled by Nelly's hand.

I would love a holiday. Of course, wouldn't we all but I just get all tingly and excited when I think of being somewhere different. I have been doing a bit of Jedi mind training. When I'm walking around I try to look at Ballymena through the eyes of a foreigner. Dspite having spent most of my life here there are many parts of the town I have never really bothered to look at. By looking at them I can convince myself that I've never been here before and it's all new to me. I wonder how long this will last before I get bored and need an actual real holiday.

The rats have bonded well with Jakers. In fact, they seem to think that he is a big rat (might be the ears, I'm not sure). They groom him when he comes to visit. Saves me the bother. It's nice for him though as he never received much affection from Pepe. There was a power struggle going on between them and Pepe preferred me 'cause I let her run rings round me.

Pushed for time here so I must go and get my bedroom sorted. I can brasso no more. It's costing me a fortune in money and time. Jakers is starting to think that I'm possessed by the evil bed spirit. A bit like Stephen King's Christine. So I have to give up my brasso habit to concentrate on my role as a loving, caring girlfriend.

The Land Of Giants

I was in the darkroom at work today which is, you know, dark. It is also the staff toilet. We go in there to change photo paper or bust a roll of film out of it's canister if the little doo dah contraption doesn't work. Can you see where I'm going with this?

Yes, I accidentally dropped someone's film down the loo. I had that moment where I thought about what I would do. Well, to go and turn the light on was not an option as the film would most definitely be ruined. But I couldn't be sure that it wouldn't be ruined after being dropped in the toilet. We live in fear of ruining anyone's film or photos because photos can be so precious to people. Nothing can replace them. So I did what any dedicated photo specialist would do and stuck my hand down the toilet, in pitch black, and fished it out.

The photos were fine. My hand was fine. Sometimes the toilet doesn't totally flush away all the loo roll but, thankfully, this wasn't such an occasion. All was well except for the fact that I still had to stick my hand down the toilet bowl and that's never a good thing.

The Lovely Mel was at home on Saturday. We went to out to Cullybackey to hang with Nellybert, The Banjos and Swisser and the many many dogs. Young Loveheart was also there and he was showing off his heavy duty microscope that magnifies things by a million times. I had never been a big fan of science but Mel and I happily spent several hours getting lost in the world of small things. Things just look totally different that close up. We raided the herbs and spices rack to get many of our 'subjects'. Fennel was one of the most interesting and a Jelly Tot up close was also pretty cool. Mr. Banjo offered up one of his dirty skanky nails for us to investigate but that was a little scary as I'm sure I saw something wiggling. And then Loveheart left, taking his toy with him, so we had no choice but to revert to conversation as a form of entertainment. I may invest in one of these state of the art microscopes.

Never Too Old To Play At The Park

I have had the best week. It has been a week of not working and taking things slowly. I purposely didn't plan anything for the week other than having my niece for a sleepover. This was the first time she had come to stay with me so it was very exciting for us both. We did a bit of painting, etch-a-sketching and reading. She was a perfect angel.

I took her to the park on Wednesday. We were lucky that it was a rare sunny, dry day. We played in the toddlers park for a while and then we ventured into the big kid's play area. This was mutually beneficial as I had to do a lot of supervising and by supervising I mean playing.

Today is my last day of holiday so I plan to make the most of it. I have already had a lovely lie in ruined by the builders next door. But when you're happy you don't care that builders are in the next room drilling holes and filling their cracks with sawdust. And it was 11 O'Clock to be fair.

Jakers is now a trained acupuncturist. He can stick needles in my ears and I love it though if he tries to stick them in my eye I'll punch him in the face. Oh, and I nearly forgot to mention that he got us tickets to see the Stone Roses and Florence and the Machine in June. I may, possibly, have the best boyfriend ever.

Colin The Caterpillar Has A Very tasty Face

I wanted my 30th birthday party to be a good one but I didn't want the hassle of organising it myself. That's when Dirt Bird offered to organise it for me. And when Jayney found out she wanted to help. It was she who suggested that we should tell everyone it was going to be a surprise party. So we did.

For my 21st Birthday a few of my closest friends, my (then) boyfriend, mum, dad and respective partners all went to the Dam of Amster. It was brilliant, at least what I remember of it. The main thing is that I learnt a very valuable lesson on that trip. Don't take magic mushrooms in the heart of the city, in broad daylight before you've found Vondel Park. It was only Romy and I at this stage and we were to meet everyone else the next day. The plan had been to find the park, consume the edibles, and lie back to enjoy the good times. The reality was that Romy couldn't wait that long, mushies burning a hole in her pocket, so we sat on one of the many canalside benches, ate our mushrooms and walked along in pursuit of the park.

I think I first noticed that the drugs were taking effect when Romy announced that she didn't like hills. They weren't so much hills as slight ramps but such was Romy's aversion to them that we had to sit on several benches every few minutes to get over the mammoth ramps we were climbing. So while she battled with her fear of hills I was still intent on finding the park with it's lush green grass for us to lie on. We were lucky. We had maps to refer to. We were unlucky. Because although I could see the shaded green patch that represented the park on saiod maps, I could not, for the life of me, relate this to real life. I chose instead to sniff the air and wander in the direction that I felt the park should be in.

This went on for several hours. The closest to a park we found was a little island in the middle of a roundabout. We were almost run over several times while trying to get to this island and when we did we were less than impressed with it's patchy, scratchy grass. And the tranquility of the moment was rather spoiled by the noise and fumes of the traffic rounding us.

Possibly the worst part of the day was when we needed the toilet. I'm still, to this day, not quite sure how we managed to go to a random bar, use the world's tiniest toilet, and live to tell the tale. But we did. Also, after a while it occurred to us that we would need to find the hostel we were staying at and this led to a feeling of impending doom. How were we ever going to find it when we had no idea where we were, where our hostel was and what it was called. Luckily we just stumbled across it. And as we lay in our bunk beds (me willing the sun to go down so I could sleep, unaware that it wasn't the sun but a light in the dorm) we had a long, deep discussion about how nice it would be to smoke a joint but how on earth were we ever going to be able to roll one. I had to pep talk myself for a long time before we went down to the hostel cafe and it took me just as long to be able to roll a joint. It wasn't 'til the next day that it occurred to us that we were in Amsterdam. We didn't have to roll joints we could just buy them.

My 30th wasn't quite so dramatic. In fact, I walked through the wrong door so I kinda spoiled the surprise part, even though it wasn't really a surprise. I had the best night I've had in a long, long time though and that was thanks to my mates for being there, my mates for organising it and in particular, to Jakers who tied everything together and made sure I had a good turn out. And after printing a 1000 pictures of kids and their caterpillar cakes I managed to get not one but two of my very own.

Give Me Back My Old Blog

Press 'enter' for line breaks....

(Enter)

Reading blog posts is no fun if it looks like the words have just been spat out on the page.

I need spaces

between

my words

please :)

If It Ain't Broke....Don't Make It Worse

I have to say, I really don't like it when they change things on the internet. Obviously the old adage, if it ain't broke don't fix it, does not apply to the interweb but technology is something I've never really understood and I guess there's no point in trying. So I still haven't got online at home because I can't be bothered with the hassle. I joined the library instead which means I'll have free access to internet without it distracting me at home and encouraging me to play mahjong when I should be washing the dishes. I really must be old now because I bought my first ever pair of trousers from Next. I used to work there and had to wear the clothes as uniform. This is the first time it's been out of choice and that I've had to pay full price for. I don't mind. I am quite content to 30. In fact, it's kinda awesome because I have an excuse for being a boring old fart but I also still look young enough to get away with buying pick-a-mixes from the newsagents and skipping down the street. Not that I would. There's a sweet shop in Ballymoney, as well as several hardware stores (my 2 favourite kinds of shops), that sells actual real Willy Wonka chocolate bars. I bought a Scrumdiddlyumptious bar which was, to be fair, rather disappointing. But to make up for that I also had a Jelly Belly Bean Blueberry flavoured Soda which was toxically tasty. And, best of all, Sainsbury's does a special chocolatey, malty, hot milky drink which can only be described as a little mug of heaven.

How To Kill The Last Few Minutes

I'm not sure what I make of bloggers new get up. I suppose it just takes getting used to, like everything else. Well, I am now 30. My (not really a surprise) surprise birthday party went down a treat. I knew all about it from the very start but it was great fun pretending I hadn't a clue. I had rehearsed my look of shock but when it came to the final crunch I walked through the wrong door so everyone's back was to me. But that didn't matter because all the people I wanted to be there were there and we all had a fabulous night filled with laughing, drinking, dancing and eating caterpillar babies. Oh, is that the time? 7 more minutes and I'm going home to my little minxy rats who love nothing more than gurrying and digging through the soil from the rubber plant Dirt Bird got me for my birthday.

Hannah

I love the Urban Dictionary. It's so kind! Hannah An amazingly beautiful girl who takes care of her friends and makes everyone she knows smile. It is a hebrew name meaning 'grace', which, although it may not always be accurate, is mostly true. She may have a fondness for sugary foods (sugar puffs, candy bracelets etc) but she will never put on any weight, as she is naturally gorgeous, as well as most probably being blonde. Men will fall at her feet, but she will only notice the wrong ones, or ones that are completely inappropriate (justin bieber and other such losers). Although she has fairly regular blonde moments and may be perceived by some as being dumb, she is actually incredibly intelligent and wise. She stands by her friends and is generally an all-round perfect person, with more strength and intelligence than she realises, as well as the best friend anyone could ever want. "Dude, that girl is peng!" "Yeah, she's a total Hannah." "Where are all the sugar puffs?" "Hannah probably ate them." I didn't eat all the sugar puffs but I did eat all the rainbow drops.

A Peek Inside

Ahhhh...time to unveil my little palace. These were taken a couple of weeks ago but I still haven't fully got settled in. I need a few more bits and pieces to make it a proper little home.


This is my kitchen. Not all rented properties come with all the mod cons but the washing machine, microwave and tumble dryer are all courtesy of the landlord. The Hellman's Mayonnaise is courtesy of Jakers.


This is the spare bedroom. It's fairly plain at the minute until I get a bit more furniture but I have a nice painting on the wall to brighten it up. The painting was by Martha.


This is the view from my bed. The set of shelves were made with my own fair hands. Though when I bragged about this to a friend they scoffed at me and said that making Ikea furniture was like playing with lego.


This is the brass bed I have been polishing. It's still not perfect but I have a feeling I won't stop until it is. At least I know where to get my brasso now. At the bottom left of this picture, just by the door, you'll notice my little pet rock. It also came with the flat.


This is my living room. Or, at least, part of it. It has room for another settee and a few more pics on the wall. Both this room and my bedroom get the best of the sun during the day as well and through these windows Martha and I can can watch the trains go by.

Text Cons Part II

Sitting in Ballymoney killing time. Texting just for the sake of it:

Me: Oh no, it's Average Friday and I'm in Ballymoney with no whiskey.

Half Term Kerm: Let's get f**ked up. I am off til tues.

Me: Can't. working tomoro and have party to go to on Sat night.

HTK: Ballymoney?

Me: It's a long story and there ain't no dollar in this town. Or whiskey. I have time to kill waiting for a train.

HTK: Go to an off licence. I hear they do booze.

Me: I'm not going to drink booze on the street like a wino. I've got 2 bottles of wine, a half bottle of vod and several ciders at my flat. I'm going to make an Easter punch.

HTK: Boke. But yeah that's what I'd do.

Me: You would too. You'd projectile boke no doubt. You're kng of the bokers.

HTK: I founded the bokist era.

Me: And I'm sure you have many bokelites following in your bokism. You're a dirty dog Kerm, a dirty dirty dog. And we all know dogs eat their boke again.

HTK: Hahahha. I have alcohol duties.

Me: Lol Don't let the side down Kerm. I'll see you at some point over the weekend I'm sure. Even though my ma has banned me from drinking with you. And me nearly thirty!

HTK: Why?

Me: Only joking sham. Though you are a bad influence. Mostly on yourself.


I do so love mine and Kermie's text conversations. Part III coming soon....

WOW (Worm of Wood)

Mr. J.W. is a rip off merchant. He charges £3.80 for a tin of brasso when Sainsbury's charges £2.50. I am shocked, stunned and disgusted. This is the same man who sold me a plank of wood for a pound. A bargain I thought but the plank of wood was an old shelf that had fallen off the wall 'cos it was riddled with woodworm. Woodworm must have teeth like a shark.

The other morning Jakers informed me that the rats were out of their cage, lying on the sofa under the throw. The door of the roof was lying open. Either someone (me) had left it open, or Meka had stood on Polly, who had stood on Rocky's shoulders and managed to open the door themselves. The latter obviously being the most likely scenario. I was lucky that there was no major damage done, just a few holes nibbled in the throw. They had probably been having a wild ratty party but they done a good job of hiding the evidence.

I had my first guests at the weekend. Dad and Linda stayed and gave the Palace their full seal of approval. Though Linda and I did manage to ruin two perfectly good bottles of wine by trying to open them with a corkscrew bought from poundland. I plan to donate these bottles of Nelly and Bert who are sure to think of some cunning way of rescuing the wine. And if not they will at least own a sieve.

My Dog Twin

Me and Judy, a photo by hootchinhannah on Flickr.

You know how they say about dogs looking like their owners? Well, I happen to look like my dog. This was a while ago though and I don't look like that anymore.

Really, the only purpose of putting this picture up is to make my blog a little less dull. I plan to post pics of my Palace of Heavenly Pleasure but it will be a while before I've got internet at home. Until then I have to make do with stealing minutes at work to keep up to date.

I made a new friend the other day. We bonded over our love of doing jigsaws. He was getting a couple of his framed. I don't think I would go to that length. Besides, once they're in a frame you can't do them again. The best jigsaw I ever did was an Elvis one. A couple of uni mates bought me it for my birthday one year. A jigsaw is my place of retreat. Once your lost in it there is nothing else in the world except you and a thousand higgledy piggledy bits of cardboard. Has anyone started the Jigsaw Appreciation Society yet? Someone should.

Rat Lady In Rags

I haven't driven in weeks. Getting settled into the new flat has taken precedence over the lessons but now I'm itching to get back behind the wheel. It's the sunny weather. it's making me think of all the places I could go on a nice day if I could drive. I had planned to be driving before I turned 30 but there's no way I'm going to get my licence in two and a half weeks. Oh well, I have to focus on the things I've achieved, not the things I haven't achieved.

I had my darling niece over last Friday for a play date. We did a jigsaw, played with stickers and done some etch-a-sketching but despite all these amazing things Miss M was way more excited to see the trains go by. We had to phone Miss M's mummy to find out what the timetable was. When I took her back home she was still going on about seeing the Derry train and that one day we would all get on the train and go to Derry.

The weather is amazing. Why can't we buy bottled sunshine yet? The things that man can do and we can't sell sunshine. Or teleport. I mean, come on scientists and get your finger out. We don't need mobile phones that can make the dinner. It's the simple pleasures.

The rats love their new home as much as I do. I am content now to have them back with me. Meka is still a bit shy and doesn't like being handled but Polly is as tame as a shrew, or have I just made that saying up? Polly is the kind of rat I could train to sit up on my shoulder while I walk about the town in rags with everyone calling me the rat lady!

Building the Nest

Today was a great day. I don't think I've ever had such a productive day. After waking up from a night of crazy dreams in which I was at war with a whole family of people who had taken out various store cards in my name and were trying to convince me that I wouldn't have to pay for anything they bought. So I didn't exactly wake up feeling refreshed. But after a good strong coffee round at Z's I was ready for anything.

Today was the day I did all the boring chores like scrub the kitchen cupboards, hoover the minging floors, clean the rats out, and find a little home for all the odds and ends that had just moved in and didn't quite know their place yet. I have learnt a very important lesson in life. Moving in to a proper place of your own is not an overnight experience. It's not the same as me packing my rucksack and living off the bare essentials for a while. It's taken me 3 weeks to get everything sorted so that I have my little haven exactly as I want it. Just in time for Dad coming to stay next week :)

Me and J.W.

I managed to age about 20 years in the space of one week. Instead of spending my weekend getting full drunk and waking with a sore head and little recollection of the previous night's events I took my hand to a spot of D.I.Y.

On Saturday evening I strolled over to Sainsbury's and was delighted to see that B&Q was still open. I spent half an hour perusing the paint ailses searching for something to redecorate the old brass bed I have on loan from mum. This bed is over a hundred years old. I asked mum if people had died in it and she said, no doubt, thousands of people died probably in it and I didn't want to know the half of what went on in that bed. So the rust has been sanded and Jakers did a grand job of painting it and I'm getting through the tins of Brasso like there's no tomorrow. Me and John Wilson are the best of friends :)

Getting There

The whole moving house thing is a bit of a pain in the arse really. Especially when the landlord is a complete an utter incompetent monster. I've been paying rent for 2 whole weeks and only been able to stay in the flat 2 nights. One of those nights I was full drunk so I'm not sure that actually counts. There's a problem with my heating so it's been far too cold for me or the rats to stay. The rats are currently staying up at Jakers. I miss them but I know they are well looked after and Rocky definitely doesn't mind. Rocky and Jakers always had a special bond. Rock was a daddy's boy and Pepe was a mummy's girl. Meka is still a timid wee thing and she looks more and more like Pepe each day. Polly is still an adventurer and tries to escape the cage at every opportunity.

I will be without internet for a while as I haven't organised it for the new flat yet. I will have to grab snatches of time to do my blog whenever I can. I guess it will be a few weeks yet before my little palace is, indeed, a palace. If anyone who visits me likes herbal tea they are in for a treat as I have been building up a little collection of various teas. Since quitting the smoke I have been reluctant to drink coffee in the evenings so herbal teas are a healthier alternative. Before long I will be the healthiest I've ever been, in mind, body and soul. I'm back on the junk though. The junk food that is. Sugar has got it's evil hold on me once again. Malteasers never tasted so good. Will have to add horlicks to my stockpile of drug free beverages.

How To Beat The Recession

So I did a bad thing the other day. I served an old man in work who gave me a fake tenner. I sort of new it was fake but I didn't want to accuse this poor old wee man of trying to diddle me. Soon after I told Jayney what I'd done and she checked the tenner. It was a poor attempt at a counterfeit note and I was raging with myself for taking it. Then I came up with a devious plan to get rid of it. I took it to the nearest bargain shop and stood in the amazingly long line. There were several reasons for taking it to a shop that sold cheap things a) those shops are so busy the people on the tills are like zombies b) the people who work in them don't really care if people give them dud notes c)quite often they are young in age and not a savvy as older shop assistants might be.

So I stood in the longest queue because there was a girl on the tills who looked like she was about 12. She definitely seemed quite zombie like. The queue moved slowly and she hit her till bell. She hit it 3 times before some superviser in a black shirt came out to help. I was just about to get to the till and willing the customer in front to hurry up so I didn't get served by the more senior member of staff. I did get served by him though and, to my joy and disbelief, he took it.

I was obviously giving the old fella who gave it to me the benefit of the doubt. I didn't want to embarrass him and reasoned that he had probably been given it by some swindling swine. My boss is more cynical though and reckons this old man knows exactly what he's doing and going round the whole of Ballymena palming off his dud notes. My driving instructor told me that he was giving a lesson to a boy and he watched as wee old man walked down the street reading his newspaper and purposely walking in the path of the learner's car hoping to get a wee dunt so he could make a nice claim. Cute as a bag of monkeys he was. I wonder if it was the same old dude photocopying ten pound notes.

Whining About Wine

I get the keys to my flat tomorrow. This is the nice flat, not the navy walled flat. I'm glad I didn't just take the first one that came along. Also, tomorrow is the first day of Spring.I think it's quite apt that I should make the move then.

It's a well known fact that when a person quits smoking their sense of smell and taste come back. A couple of weekends ago I landed home with a bottle of wine. I poured a glass for mum, Bert and myself. One sip was enough for me to know that the wine was bad. Mum agreed. Bert, who still smokes, thought there was nothing wrong with the wine. Then again, Bert's tastebuds are accustomed to eating all manner of pickled delights, fish heads, and such like. A gene, no doubt, inherited from his mother who would rather leave an egg and onion sandwich to sit in her bag for 3 days before she deemed it fit to eat.

But no, the wine was definitely soured so mum and I went back to the off licence I purchased it from to exchange for something that was actually drinkable. It just so happens that the off licence is attached to the pub which my mate Half Term Kerm frequents. It is separated by a wall but Kerm must have either heard me, or the fella that served me told Kerm that his mate was in complaining about the wine. I jumped back into the car with mum and looked at a message that had come through on my mobile.

"Gypsy" it read. From Kermy

Knowing full well that he was in the pub I sent him one back that read:

"Ha, you'll probably end up drinking that bottle of sour wine. Gypsy"

"It was mentioned" he wrote back.

A few more texts were sent back and forth before Kermy adhered that if the wine was bad enough for me to bring back then it really was not worth consuming.

And as for my sense of smell, when mum picks me up after work she smells of whatever dinner she happens to be cooking. Last week she smelt like meatloaf. All mum's should smell like dinner. Either that or Zoflora.