Free House In Cloughmills

I had the worst night's sleep last night. So bad that during it I had a dream where I was telling people about my bad night's sleep. I have Swine flu. There could be a number of reasons for this. I did eat a Pear Picking Porky ice lolly yesterday, which definitely made me feel worse. But the Swine lurgi had started a good week and a half before that. Also my over-exposure to Corona lager hasn't been helping it. I haven't been drinking it myself but everyone else has. It kept putting that song in my head My Sharona.

I would love to write about the ins and outs of my Friday night but I cant go into too much detail other than to say that after the pub we went to someone's house. Half Term Kerm ended up taking a bath at 3 in the morning and cooking a feed of tobasco eggs at 5 in the morning.

I wrote the 1st part of this blog yesterday but didn't have the energy to finish it off. The swine flu is slightly better. The night sweats weren't as bad last night but I did have a surreal dream where Mum, my boyfriend and I went to view a house in Cloughmills. 3 small children answered the door and I wondered where all the adults were. We went into the living room and the eldest girl started to tell us why they wanted to sell the house. When I looked over at the other 2 children they'd turned into cats. Eventually the other girl turned into a cat and it was the most evil, nasty cat I've ever encountered. Mum seemed unperturbed by the stangeness of this and went to find some adults. When she was out of the room the eldest girl-cat turned into Evil Cat From Hell. Mum came back announcing that they were giving the house away for free because everyone else in the street were moving at 1 O'Clock and we were the only ones who'd come to see the house!

I'm hoping that I shuld be a 100% by Thursday though as Nelly and I are meeting up with some fellow bloggers and I'd hate to give them the Swine flu. Hails suggested I wear a mask. I was thinking about choosing this one although it reminds me of Cartoon Head from Ideal.

Chocolate Digstives Never Tasted So Good.

What a lovely week off I've been having. The only bad thing is that it seems to be going too quick. Dirt Bird got here late on Monday night. On Tuesday it was her sisiter's birthday so we picked her up and took her for lunch at the Thatch Inn in Broughshane. We then tok a lovely walk along the river and basked in the sun. In the evening Dirt Bird and I met Nelly at Lidl to do a bit of shopping. While we were waiting for Nelly I saw a lady struggling with her groceries. She couldn't get the box in her car so I offered to help her. When her trolley made a run for it Dirt Bird was on hand to rescue it. The lady was very thankful for the help.

Then when Dirt Bird was looking for a pound to put into a trolley a different lady approached with a trolley. I said to Dirt Bird that she should give the woman her pound and take her trolley to save her putting it back. The old lady gave us the trolley and took the pound. She scarpered pretty quickly. When we were finished with the trolley I noticed it didn't have a pound in it. How raging was I that this lady, elderly lady, had stroked us of a pound.

It was Dr. Death who managed to help me see the funny side of it by saying that the old lady would be dipping her chocolate digestives into her tea that night, giggling about how she'd stroked them 2 dolls at Lidl good and proper.

The Holiday Dance

Well, birthday celebrations on Saturday night were very good. The party was pretty much like any party we have here; The Wee Manny (aka Sir Drink Alot) was in bed by 8, guests stood while the dogs lay on the seats, Nelly's CD's got abused, people boked in the toilet, food was scranned, drinks were spilled, geetar playing was attempted and people were saying good morning to people who were saying good night. All in all a typical shindig at chez Nellybert's. I didn't feel normal again until Tuesday.

I've got another party to attend this weekend. A Mad Hatter's party. I was gonna wear Bert's leather hat but it's gone missing since Saturday night so I might have to settle for a top hat. I'm pretty sure it'll be another all-nighter but I'm OFF on HOLIDAY for 1 WHOLE week!! If you could see me now, I'm waving my hand in the air like the audeince used to do on the Gladiators and whooping like a loon in the night. I haven't had a full week off work since I started in November, in fact, I've hardly had a full weekend off since I started. How bliss it will be. Obviously it will rain all week because this week's been glorious and everyone knows that if it doesn't rain for a week in Ireland the whole island will be swallowed up by the sea. The rain keeps it floating or something. I don't even care if it rains I will just be so happy to not be working. Also, the bestest, prettiest, sweetest DirtBird will be here and we have adventures to pursue...and Bert's hat to find.

Special Agent 0027

Today was my Dog Day. I turned 27. This is the age that many rockstars die; Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison to name a few. I went to work, went for a drink, came home, ate dinner, watched Coronation Street, hung out with Pearlie and we talked about whether or not my cold sore had healed yet. Very rock 'n' roll. But even if I don't die before my 28th birthday I still want to go to Hell. For one, it's warm there, and two, I heard there was a shortage of chairs in Heaven. Is it any wonder? All you have to do is repent and they let you in.

I know this sounds like just the sort of thing an old person would say but isn't it amazing how quickly the years just roll by? This is where I don't trust time, years fly by but at work the seconds drag forever. There's no point worrying about getting old though. I can see many advantages of aging; wisdom, OAP discount, the right to be grumpy, afternoon naps.

I've been thinking lately that I'd probably make a good spy. I'm very discreet and cunning. If anyone needs a spy just leave me a comment and tell me my mission. I'll take payment in kind, not that kind of kind, but I'd take payment in sweets, whiskey or tobacco.

Wrong Change

On Friday I accidentally didn't give a lady in my shop her £20 back. It was an honest mistake. I took her 20 and asked if she had anything smaller. She said she hadn't then found a tenner. Sh gave me that, I gave her her change but for got to give her the other 2o back. I only realised after she'd left and even then I couldn't be sure. I told my boss and when he checked the till it was £20 over. Whoops! We put it in an envelope in the safe and I hoped the lady would come back. I felt really bad about it.

I told mum this on the way home from work. We called in at the garage where I was chatting away to Young Haze about the new light Golden Virginia and when he gave me change of a £20 back I told him that I'd only given him a tenner. So there was 2 chances I had in one day to have money that wasn't mine. But I honestly blieve that getting money like that wouldn't bring any happiness. I was feeling lucky though so I did put a bet on the Grand National. I lost! But then so did a lot of people.

Today I was buying coffee. Again I was given the change of a twenty when I'd only paid with a tenner. I told the lady that was twice in one week that had happened to me. It's funny how during a time of economic recession people are so careless about money. I wonder who the God of Wealth is and why he can't place money in front of me in the form of a new, better paid job.

Anyway, here's how Karma works. I didn't take money that wasn't mine because that's not the way I want to have money. I know many people wouldn't care. Money is money. On Saturday my mate from work got me to climb through the window of her cousin's flat to let her in. She needed the toilet and he wasn't in. Of course I was slightly inebriated which is why I thought nothing of climbing in through the window of someone's flat when they weren't there. All was well until a few hours later I got s call from my mate telling me that I'd left my bankcard at her cousin's house. Only I would be stupid enough to break into someone's house and leave them stuff rather than take anything. I got my card back though. Perhaps if I had taken the change that wasn't mine I wouldn't have got it back. Who knows but I like to think that what goes around comes around and if you try to do positive it will come back to you.

Pin Head

I don't mind admitting that I'm behind the times with music. This is why I'm only just now figuring out who Paolo Nutini is. I knew his songs from the radio, and liked them, but I thought it was a chick singing, possibly Macy Gray or someone. I was quite surpised to find out he's a pretty boy from Scotland. He may be a pretty boy but he doesn't play any instruments and he's got a weird singing face. I think he feels the emotion of his lyrics a little too much. I understand the poor lad's singing about his broken heart but it just looks like he's doing a really painful pooh. I do like him though.

It seems I am once again below average. The circumference of my head measures 21 inches and the average for a woman is 22 1/2 inches. I figure this is why I always look ridiculous in sunglasses. And why I can stick my head through bars without having to call the fire brigade.

Diggin' Up Worms

I forget what a healer music can be. I've been feeling a bit flat lately. The weather plays a big part. The Wind is nothing but a big, overbearing bully. I was gonna nominate it for eviction but then I rememebered this ain't Big Brother. Ballymena is in a slump too. There's no life about it. Where's all the clowns to make me laugh?

But back to music being a healer. What else is there to do on a Monday afternoon other than stick the tunes on full blast and have a bouncy disco to yourself. It's the simple things in life that make me happy, like dancing and sweets, clouring in, climbing trees and chasing after stray cats. It's when the stray cats chase after you that it all turns a bit sour.

I'm on the job hunt again. A manager who thinks it's viable to have an employee working 11 days in a row is a manager who is not only stupid but also a fool. A stupid fool. Just lately I've had an urge to climb Slemish. I know it's time for a change when I want to head for the hills.

I shall leave you with a link to MGMT-Time To Pretend. This song has the best intro ever. Also the video is awesome. Makes me think of going on a cruise to the windmills with Mels in her knightrider car. Adventures + Mels = Good Times!!

Lost In Lopburi

To follow on from a couple of weeks ago, about my last month spent in Thailand, here’s a letter I wrote to mum but never sent (even just posting a letter involved going to the post office where no one would be able to speak English):

Dear Mum,

I don’t want to worry you but I just wanted to let you know how I’m feeling. To be honest, I’m feeling scared. I’ve come back to Lopburi but not back to what I’d left behind. I miss my apartment and I miss the security of working. I know that in time these things will fall into place but right now I feel unsettled and worried. It’s bad enough not having a job at home but in a different country it’s even worse.

I know there’s no point wishing I hadn’t come back because it’s done now and I have to deal with it.

I never wanted to leave here so soon but I think I’d totally psyched myself up for coming home that I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. A part of me wishes I wasn’t so far away.

I guess I’m just feeling mixed up by everything. My ‘last’ week in Lopburi was extremely stressful and frustrating. Romy and I both felt lost, betrayed and helpless. We were scared and felt like there was no one here to help us. We ran away without saying goodbye to our friends, our students, without any acknowledgement of what we’d done, without any appreciation from school. It wasn’t the way we’d wanted to leave.

So when I found out that I didn’t have to go it just seemed right that I should stay, go back to Lopburi and face the situation…


And face the situation I did. I got myself work with another school and I went back to my old one to try and get the rest of my wages. The Head of Department could do nothing for me (it was out of her hands) but she seemed sympathetic in her own way. Another teacher, the kindest, gentlest being I’ve ever met, gave me a 1000 baht out of her own pocket. A thousand baht in our money is just under £20 but in Thailand it goes a lot further. She took me aside and I tried to refuse but she insisted. She gave me a hug and I knew, of all the other teachers, she was the only one that really cared. My new employers were also very understanding and supportive of my situation. Before I left they told me to get in touch if I wanted to go back teaching and they reassured me that all the paperwork would be legit.

This is life though. It doesn’t matter how far from home you are there are always people who will help you. Most people are good, kind people. I know many of them but not all of them. Not yet anyway.

Getting In The Mood For Waffle Day

In a mere TWO days it will be International Waffle Day. Yes, such a day exists! And why not? One day I'll own my very own waffle house. Here's what I'd have on my menu:

Apple and Cinnamon Waffle - Cinnamon flavoured waffle drizzled with hot apple sauce and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Traditional Waffle - Waffle with maple syrup and vanilla ice cream.

Banoffee Waffle - Waffle topped with sliced banana, hot toffee sauce and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Plain Waffle - Hot waffle with any two scoops of ice cream (vanilla, chocolate, honeycomb, caramel or strawberry)

Coconut Waffle - Coconut flavoured waffle with coconut ice cream, drizzled with hot choclate sauce.

Chocolate Fudge Waffle - Chocolate flavoured waffle with scoop of vanilla ice cream and hot fudge sauce.

Malt Waffle - Malted waffle with scoop of malteasers ice cream and sprinkled with chocolate flakes.


I think, of all my buisness plans (Hannah's Hot Air Balloon Rides, Scabby Birds Escort Agency), the waffle house is definitely the most promising.

Nigelly's Buns

Mels was over at the weekend. I was useless and didn’t get a treasure hunt organised for her but we did go on a wee excursion. It was Friday 13th and Mel, being obsessed with scary stuff, ghosts and such like, wanted to do something scary. I asked everyone I knew and the only option anyone came up with was camping at Tardree forest. I don’t know what would be scarier, the Blair Witch or the perverts out dogging. Anyway, we ended up going to Skerry Graveyard, which is actually quite scary, although perhaps I only have these associations because of the time Mel and I tried to drive down the Mouth of Hell.

Do you know how quickly Nelly can whip up a batch of fairy cakes? Very. When I arrived home yesterday mum presented me with a batch of delicious looking chocolate buns. Instead of a smile she got a stroppy glare and me mumbling about having given up chocolate for lent. So chocolate free buns were made and Mel and I expertly decorated them. They looked like those buns Jamie Oliver and the wean’s decorated for Comic Relief.

Poor Seller

I almost forgot to write about this. Today in work Horatio pointed at a t.shirt and asked me who the guy was on it. Che Guevarra. But I should know that because I'm 26. Wee Prawn on the other hand is 19. I remember when I was that age and Mum and Bert would laugh hysterically at the things I came out with. Wee Prawn remarked to Horatio yesterday that them Bin Laden t.shirts don't seem to be selling too well. Oh, to be that age again.

Lazy Boy Bert's Mid Morning Snooze

It's amazing, you know, that a mother (Pearlie) could know her son (Bertie Boy) for nearly 50 years and still not know certain things about him. I was chatting to Pearlie about Bert's habit of stashing. As long as I've known Bert he's always stashed goodies like chocolate bars and buns. He did this because, in our house, if you left tasty things lying around they'd be scoffed for sure. Bert wasn't the best at stashing though. Either he'd hide it somewhere stupid, like under the cushion on the sofa, where the dogs would find it, or he'd hide it somewhere so cunning he'd totally forget where it was. This was all news to Pearlie. I'm not sure that she found it particularly interesting news but what else are you meant to talk to old birds about?

While we're on the subject of Bert being nearly 50, Wacko Jacko (aka Clint) walked in on Bert today while he was having a mid-morning snooze. Wacko was apparently disgusted and exclaimed:

Huh, it's bad enough ye sittin' playing that clarinet all day but sleeping?

Bert's feeble reply was that he was turning 50 this year. But as mum pointed out, what was his excuse when he was 40? He was psyching himself up for it.

There are many reasons to leave this country. High up on the list are the shootings that took place at Antrim's army barracks on Saturday night. I don't normally talk about things like this in my blog 'cos I hate even thinking about it let alone writing about it but I need to mention it because it's just down the road from me and I'm not ignorant.

On a lighter note, I'm back home after a lovely few days in Norwich (now the sick person capital rather than the road kill capital) seeing dad and Katkins. Ever since visiting the ice cream parlour in Ballymena Zoe and I have had cravings for hot waffles with ice cream. We mentioned this to Abbie who said we should visit The Waffle House in Norwich. This place has inspired me to open one up here. It's amazing.

Now I'm back at home watching Fish Face Freddy, who is full of devilment, harassing The Good Cat. We reckon The Good Cat will probably leave home soon. Maybe she'd like to come to South America with me. I'm seriously trying to muster the gumption to set up a treasure hunt for Mel, who's home this weekend, but I'm not sure if my brain'll be working well enough. Maybe I could just recycle Bert's treasure hunt from a few years ago.

Why The Dream Ended

I never fully explained why I had to leave Thailand. It's pretty complicated but I'll try my best.

When I got the teaching job there Romy and I were the only 2 teachers who weren't with a British or US based agency. We were with a Thai 'govermental agency'. This 'agency' consisted of one woman, the lady who picked me up from the airport, and her assistant who's name was Pink. Pink was the one who settled us in and took us to all the relevant places to sort out our permits. I was teaching with my school for 5 months in total. We eventually got our work permits 4 months after teaching.

This is where it gets complicated. I went over on a tourist visa. After a few months there I was issued a non-immigrant B visa. This entitled me to stay in the country for a year. You need the non-immigrant B to get a work permit but once you get your work permit the non-immigrant B is null and void. Eventually I got my work permit.

Now this is where it gets super complicated and I'm not even entirely sure what exactly happened. By the time I got my work permit there were other teachers starting at my school. One was an older man from the UK. Frankly, we thought he was weird but he'd been in the country a lot longer than us and so I guess we were influenced by him. He informed us that he'd got a Thai friend to phone the local office that issued our permits. According to them Pink had called to say that we had resigned, Thus making our work permits void.

Now, had we known this we would have had 14 days to leave the country and come back on a tourist visa, but we only found out about 3 weeks later. After the 14 days we weren't even meant to be in the country, let alone work in it. We were also getting fined 500 Baht everyday we overstayed our welcome. So we freaked. We called the British Embassy and they confirmed our situation was bleak.

It gets better though. On top of us accruing fines we were owed a month's pay. It was up to our agency to pay us as the school had paid the agency upfront for 6 months. The situation got so bad that the school had to pay us half the month's wages out of their own pocket (this was a poor school). Obviously our head of department was as concerned about the situation as we were but for different reasons. She wanted us to continue teaching even though we legally weren't allowed to. It all got so convoluted and twisted that me and Romy felt we had no choice but to bail. This meant walking out on our apartments without paying what we owed them.

We packed all our shit up in one day, gave all the stuff we couldn't pack away to the teachers that had work permits and were staying. We stayed up 'til 3 in the morning because there was a door man in our apartments who was likely to get suspicious if he saw me and Romy leaving with all our bags. As it happened he woke up anyway and asked us in Thai where we were going. Romy said Chiang Mai. He seemed happy enough and we went to the train station. We left what had been our home for the past 5 months at 3 in the morning without saying goodbye to anyone.

The plan was to spend a few days in Bangkok 'hiding out' and then get planes back to the UK where we were allowed to be. We were hoping we could get away with the fines at the airport because our non-immigrant B's hadn't been stamped and so according to our passports we hadn't overstayed our visas. We'd saved the money for the fines anyway just in case. We enjoyed a crazy few days in Bangkok that passed by in a blur of Sang Som and Pina Colada's. Romy went to get her flight the night before I was due to get mine. She made it through without the fines and landed safely back in London. I'm sure she was never as glad to see it.

I met up with some of the teachers for one last Mexican meal the evening that I was due to catch my plane. I was informed that one of the teachers at my school looked at my documents and according to them, all was fine. Meaning that I didn't need to leave. I could stay and find a new teaching job. I remember calling mum literally an hour before I was leaving and telling her I was staying after all. I went back to Lopburi with my mates and stayed with Brad.

I'd been back in Lopburi for about a week and was getting myself sorted with more teaching when I was informed that the teacher who told me everything was fine was wrong. Right back to square fecking one. Still not allowed to be in the country, or teach, and getting fined even more. I think that was the point where I finally gave up. I'd done all I could to try to stay there but it just wasn't happening. I accepted my fate and dealt with the disappointment by believing that there was a reason why I was meant to be at home.

I finally went home a month after Romy. It was the strangest month of my life. I have much more to write about it but just now my fingers are sore and I'm parched. I haven't done it justice in this blog and I'll never fully understand what exactly happened so maybe I'll never be able to.

Growing Feet and Smelly Socks

Brrrrrr. I'm glad it's March but have we not endured enough winter weather? Woke up this morning to snow. Me and snow haven't really got on since I was the age of 7. I don't like wet and eventually snow, as pretty as it can be, turns to wet, making me wet. I think my friend Romy is the only one who understands how much I hate being wet. It makes being clean very difficult. Of course I am clean (mostly) but not liking being wet makes it harder for me to eenjoy the whole cleaning process.

Having said that the I don't really mind getting wet. It's when you get wet and then you get cold. Cold and wet. My two least favourite conditions. Sod's Law that I ended up being born in Ireland rather than Jamaica. I once met a Thai girl who loved Britian for it's coldness. Maybe the Stork got us mixed up.

Anyway, this is just rambling. A blog-filler. So I might as well tell you about my horrible customer yesterday. A fella in his mid 30's. Smelly. I asked if I could help him get a size in jeans. He told me 32 waist and 33 leg. This would make him the size of average Joe. I don't think his name was Joe though 'cos his waist was considerably bigger than 32 inches and he was a shortarse. And he smelt really really bad! But I'm not just mean and slagging off innocent customers. There's a reason for writing about him. He'd picked out a shoe and asked if I could get him the other one. I asked him what size and he said a 10. I got him the other shoe and he tried it on. I asked if they were ok and he said: I don't know, there's not a lot of room, you know, in case my feet might grow.

He was in his mid 30's, I'm pretty sure his feet had stopped growing. We didn't have the next size up so he didn't take the shoes because there wasn't a nig enough gap at the back. For his feet to grow. Maybe I'm being ignorant and there's some kind of ailment that makes your feet grow. If there is then I apologise to the dude. But I still reccommend that he goes home and takes a bath unless, of course, he's like me and doesn't like gtting wet.

What's Happened To Mr. Muscle

Remember this guy? Mr. Muscle. Loves the jobs you hate. Katkins (congratulations and jubilations) was quite endeared by him. That's probably why Graham Coxon was always her favourite member of Blur.

Well, Mr. Muscle seems to have been on the 'roids lately 'cos he's looking slightly more buff than he used to. In fact, he looks a lot like my boyfriend*. But surely the whole point of the earlier ads was that Mr. Muscle Oven Cleaner was so powerful that even a scrawny weed could do a good job. The new buffed-up version totally defeats the purpose. Perhaps the old Mr. Muscle got too big for his boots and started requesting more money.

And anyway, Mr. Muscle causes cancer. Fact! (according to Mel's dad).

*Ha!

So There Ye Go

The nicest thing I did this weekend was meet my big sis at the new ice cream parlour in Ballymena.
Unfortunately they didn't have the hot waffles so I settled for a Knickerbocker Glory. I had caramel ice cream, toffee fudge ice cream, marshmallows, more fudge, caramel sauce and white chocolate sauce (Like I said before, white chocolate isn't really chocolate). Pure sugar heaven....

I went out with some girls from work on Friday night. Apparently I am hilarious to go out drinking with because I don't mind getting up on the dancefloor on my own and dancing like an idiot. Wee Prawn needed a good night out with the girls so I was glad to oblige.

I stayed in on Saturday night and updated my CV...yeah, I know. There were a few reasons for this, the most obvious being that I am at the end of my tether in my current job. I thought my last boss was bad at running a buisness but he's got nothing on my current employers. My male boss at the minute speaks to some of his staff like they are dirt. I dream of foreign lands.

So there ye go. Next weekend I'll be in the roadkill capital of England, Norfolk, visiting my dad and sister. Yeeeoow! And the weekend after that Mels is back in town (and Nelly has promised her treacle tart) and I'm pretty sure the weekend after that is when Spring officially starts and we are rewarded with an extra hour of daylight for our bravery in surviving Winter.

Forget The Chocolate It's All About The Toffee Fudge

I was just doing a bit of ice cream research because it's an important part of my....um....life. I've just got lost in the Ben and Jerry's website for about an hour. They even have a graveyard for all the flavours of ice cream they no longer produce. Also, I was surprised at their list of Top Ten Flavours. I would've thought something a bit more exciting than Cherry Garcia would have made it to the No. 1 spot.

Then I took a visit over at the Haagen Dazs website. This is the ice cream for the more mature, sophisticated ice cream scoffer. While I like a bit of Haagen Dazs I find there ice cream just ain't indulgent enough.

I couldn't find any Thorntons ice cream flavours online, which is a shame because one of the nicest ice creams I've ever had was a Thornton's toffee fudge flavour. I did find a cupcake that looked like a little bit of heaven on a plate though. Here she is. Excuse me while I mop the drool from my mouth.

'Ok' To Make Money Out Of Dying Celebs?

I can't get over the hype surrounding Jade Goody. It just seems wrong that the media are cashing in on her death. To be fair, I haven't been reading gossip mags for ages so I don't really know what's being said or by whom but I do know that everywhere I look, TV, papers, magazines, Jade Goody's face is plastered all over the place. All of a sudden her on/off boyfriend, who is a lying, cheating, talentless, toerag, wants to marry her. Quelle surprise.

I just find it all very strange. It's almost like there's a countdown to her death. And this is not just any old celebrity, like Sienna Miller or Robbie Williams, this is Jade Goody, the girl who we hated, loved, felt sorry for, laughed at, mocked, ridiculed, the girl who was stupid, loveable, annoying, bitchy and, once voted, 'mother of the year' This is a girl who became famous for nothing and clung onto every ounce of publicity she could ever get. Although she didn't win Big Brother she has famously done better than any other Big Brother contender. Most people have, at some point over the past five years, formed some kind of opinion of Ms Goody, whether good or bad. There's no denying that she's a pretty famous chick (in the humble old British Isles, of course) but I still don't understand how someone can put themselevs in the public arena when they're dying. Maybe I'm just old fashioned.

On totally unrelated note, since I've given up chocolate for Lent I've been perusing the internet for tasty chocolate-free treats. I should've known better than to look at Z's 'Greed' set on Flickr. And I really should've known better than to look at this photo of Z's white chocolate, banana and cranberry muffins. I remember them well. I helped make them. Got me thinking though. Would it be a cop-out if I only gave up brown chocolate for Lent?

Happy Hannah/ Hairy Head Hannah

Whilst flicking through my sister's Flickr I came across a couple of photos of myself. In the first one you'll notice an air of happiness about me. In the second one, however, I look distinctly displeased. In both photos I am wearing the exact same coat and hat. But the first photo was taken on 14th September 2007 and the second one was taken in January 2008. No wonder I look pissed off. I'd been wearing the same hat and coat for well over a year. Also, there are clealry no sweets in the second pic.

Talking of sweets. I do plan to give up chocolate for Lent. Not because I'm profoundly religious but just to see if I can exercise any sort of willpower atall. I'm not giving up sweets though. Or biscuits, or any of mum's home-baking. Why would I torture myself?

Oh, and another thing, I saw this job advertised and reckon it'd be perfect for me.

I Wanted To Be A Mango

I wasn't gonna bother posting this but I guess I am Hannah Banana fer sure.

You Are a Banana

You are mellow, easy going, and a total softie on the inside. People find it really easy to get along with you. You suit most tastes. And while you're very sweet, you're not boring or ordinary. You have an attraction to the exotic, and you could show up anywhere... doing almost anything! You are spirited, energetic, and a total kick to be around. You're also quite funny. Your sense of humor is on the goofy side, and it fits you well.

What Type of Fruit Are You?

Paddy Posts Again

Paddy got so excited about the newly installed wi-fi that he insisted on doing a guest post. He does so little these days, how could I refuse him. This is what Paddy's got to say for himself:


I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever live a peaceful life. I try so hard to get my recommended 22 hours sleep a day but everyone's so demanding of me. When the Bitcher (God rest her scunge-dog soul) was alive she'd have me out all hours scunging the country. I quit all that nonsense though. Was a bit worried I'd get lost on my own and never come home again. Or get my head stuck in a bucket.

But, y'see, in this house as soon as one animal passes away they seem to think there's room for another and take in any oul' stray. Like that fecking ginger hoor-cat. If it's not harassing Hannah to the point where she's screaming blue murder at it, it's harassing the Good Cat (formerly known as Holly). There's no crueler sound to the dog's sensitive ear than the wailing of an irate woman and an upset she-cat. Maybe the clarinet.

So what with Bonnie Dog's constant blethering on about what a good time she had at the Mourne Mountains with Moms and Dawds, Hannah's scrawking at the ginger hoor-cat from Hell and Bert's incessant peep-peeping on the clarinet, how is a dog ever meant to get his 22 hours sleep a day?

P


Poor Paddy Dog. I think he just needed to get that off his chest.

The Creepy Teddy

When I started work on Friday I was carrying a box of jeans to the other store round the corner. By the time I'd made it to the other shop wee Prawn came round and told me I was to ring Horatio (my assistant manager's preferred title). I called him and he asked if I'd seen the guy as I was leaving.

"Naw, what guy?" I asked

Horatio described him (apparently he looked crusty) then told me that just as I'd left he'd come up to the till and asked about me. He asked if I was still working in this shop or working in another. Horatio told him I worked here. Then the guy said: Don't tell her I was asking about her.

Horatio thought he seemed kind of unsavoury and told me I was to phone him if he came into the shop round the corner. When the big store manager found out the next day she berated Horatio for leaving me around there on my own.

Anyway, I thought nothing more about 'til I was back in work on Monday and Prawn and Horatio showed me a Valentine's teddy that had come through the post on Saturday. They reckoned it was for me from the guy who was asking about me. I told them not to be silly but when I looked at the label it made me suffer a terrible flashback. It read: To Gorgus* From Good Lookin' Look after Sexy the bear.

I chatted to some goon at the pub a couple of times and when I asked him his name (out of politness not a desire to actually know) he told me it was Mc GoodLookin'. He was a funny wee cratur and so I humored him. Shortly after I started working in my shop I seen him in it one day so I called out to him "Alright McGoodLookin'?" We made polite chit chat and that was that. I haven't seen him since well before Christmas.

I don't know anything for sure but I'm getting teased in work for having a stalker. That teddy could've been for any of the girls but I'm still left wondering who was asking about me on Friday. If I wanted a stalker though I'd have gone back to Thailand.

*His mispelling not mine

Today Is Brought To You By The Letter...

The broken down barman has kindly given me a letter so I can join in the "Today is brought to you by the letter..." game. This is the kind of thing that's keeps me amused for hours. I've been given the letter 'f' so I have to post 10 things that begin with the letter 'f' that I love.

1. Floating - not that I've ever properly floated like a witch but I love the idea of it. Or my head floating off my shoulders.

2. Fun and Frolics - especially in the sun. I love playing at the park, climbing trees, obstacle courses.

3. Feasts - of drink or chocolate or anything tasty.

4. Fish Face Freddy - he is somewhat irritating but he's so sweet the way he cuddles into you and purrs.

5. Friends and family - Should be at the top of the list because they are the whole reason for being alive.

6. Fristi's - a delicious fruit flavoured milk drink you get in Holland but that, strangely, comes in a can.

7. Foreign lands - wherever in the world. If you've never been there before it's an adventure.

8. Fifteens - as in the buns, 15 digestive biscuits, 15 marshmallows, 15 cherries....hmmm.

9. Fires - they're warm and pretty to look at.

10. Fluffy things - I'm a sucker for cute, fluffy animals and sweet boys.


Nelly, Mels, Ed.....I'll be disappointed in you all if you don't ask for a letter! Maybe I'll let Ed off with it as it is perfect flying weather today.

Some Colour In My Cheeks

A couple of year's ago I got a single red rose from God. It wasn't Valentine's or my birthday or anything but God's a bit of a card like that, he doesn't wait for the days that society dictates romance. But a rose from God's a rose from God. He gives them to all the girls. And it's much better getting a single red rose from someone you actually fancy. It's especially nice when they go to the bother of hand delivering it themselves (God could never be arsed and just got Angels to do the delivering).

It was very sweet of Jakers to come into my work with a rose for me. My cheeks turned the same colour as the rose and all the other girls were livid with their boys for not doing the same. Smug? Me? Never!

The Queen Of Sweets

Dirt Bird sent me a text message a while back. It read:

IF YOU'RE AT THE PUB TONIGHT GET A SLOE GIN AND LEMONADE AND TELL ME WHAT SWEETIE YOU THINK IT TASTES LIKE.

I sent her one back saying:

DIDN'T GET A CHANCE TO TRY THAT DRINK BUT I RECKON IT WOULD TASTE LIKE REFRESHERS.

Dirt Bird replied:

OH MY GOD! YOU REALLY ARE THE QUEEN OF SWEETS! THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT TASTES LIKE.

Yes, The Queen Of Sweets. Everyone's got their niche. Mine's sweets. I once wrote a letter to Mr. Cadbury asking whatever happened to Secret chocolate bars. Imagine my excitement when I actually got a reply in the post! It said, "Thankyou for your recent enquiry about Secret chocolate bars but Cadbury did not manufacture them, it was, in fact, Nestle Rowntree".

I wrote a letter to Nestle too hoping I'd wangle a recipe out of them but they wouldn't share. McGroggan's of Ballymena are just as greedy with their fudge and ice-cream recipes. I need me a job in the sweet industry, either as manufacturer or as a sweet tester (if it doesn't pass the Hannah seal of approval it just ain't good enough).

I'm sure everyone's bored of skittles, chewits and jelly tots and their boring strawberry, orange and lemon flavours. Imagine sweets with flavours like mango, kiwi, watermelon, gooseberry, loganberry, snozzleberry, lychee and peach. Hmmmm....Willy Wonka don't know shit about shit.

Happy Birthday Pearlie

Bert, Pearlie and Hannah
Originally uploaded by NellyMoser

It was Pearlie's birthday on Tuesday. She was suitably chuffed with her flowers and cards. She especially liked the card from me as I'd practically wrote an essay in it (she told me once she hated cards that said To Blah From Blah and nothing else).

This is my favourite photo of oul' Pearlie Blue. 'Tis a rare one where she actually looks happy. I look so happy because I'm clutching onto Bert's bottle of Glenfiddich Whiskey. I love Bert's "I'm such a doting son pose". You'd never think this was the same man who told his ma to move her silly oul' heid ( old head) when he was fixing her pillows. Pearlie's come-back was that if Bert maybe lived to be as old as her he might have a silly oul' heid too. I told her Bert already has one of those.

Blog Lazy

This is the height of blog laziness. I was tagged on Facebook by a couple of people to disclose 25 facts about myself. Since I can't think of anything better to write about at the minute I'm gonna copy and paste it.

Edit

About Me 7:14pm

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you*. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.

1. Snap is my favourite card game.

2. Unlike most people I quite like a suffocating heat.

3. I love colouring in.

4. I wish I was left-handed.

5. Dancing makes me feel alive.

6. I'm addicted to malt.

7. The first album I ever owned was Vic Reeves 'I Will Cure You'

8. I wish I didn't have E.T. fingers.

9. Even though it was dumb, I don't regret the basketball incident.

10. I find doing jigsaws therapeutic.

11. I should wear glasses but I forget that I'm blind.

12. If you can make me laugh I'll think you're awesome.

13. I clap my hands when I'm excited.

14. I taught myself to juggle with oranges.

15. I want to be a carpenter. Either that or a pole-dancer.

16. If you're ever in my heart you'll always have a place there.

17. My least favourite day is a Tuesday.

18. I believe there should be more treasure hunts.

19. Looking up at really tall buidings makes me feel sick.

20. I am maths phobic.

21. I'm like a border collie, I need lots of physical and mental stimulation or I get a bit demented.

22. I'm more oral than anal.

23.It took me a loooong time to figure out how to do this.

24. I am morbidly feared of the cold.

25. I count my lucky stars at least once a day.


* Typically, I forgot to tag the people who tagged me.

The Malteaster Bunny

I'm not sure how I came to be addicted to malt but it's definitely one of my stranger vices. But, oh, how I share the joy that malt can bring! In Thailand it was all about the Milo. Here at home it's all about the malteasers and Whiskey. I'm sure when I'm an old lady I will ahoot and aholler for gallons of horlicks.

Easter isn't exactly around the corner but in the Land of Confectionary (my favourite place), the eggs and chocolate bunnies are rearing their pretty little heads. I feel it is my duty to inform you of the delights of the Malteaster Chocolate Bunny. I have already converted the girls at work, Bert and DogStar. If you haven't already tried one, go now, go before I eat them all. Because I will.

I need a new alcoholic beverage to drink. Jameson's will always be my No. 1 but I'm getting bored of the kind of drunk I get from it. I want to experience new levels of drunkeness. Not quite to the extent of someone like the Wee Manny (or Sir Drink A Lot as he is otherwise known) but I feel that in these cold winter months I need a drink that will lift my spirits better.

I might try the A - Z of shots this weekend.

A - Absinthe: probably not the best shot to start off with but sure what the hey?
B - Bailey's: Probably not the best shot to take after Absinthe but all good fun.
C - Cognac: It's gonna taste rank after the yummy Bailey's but what can ye do?
D - Drambuie: Never had this before so I can't comment but I'll probably have a nice glow about me after this one.
E - Eggnog: Might have to skip this one.
F - Framboise: A nice French strawberry flavoured licqueur to take a way the taste of the Drambuie.
G - Gin: Makes you sin.
H - Hennessey: By this time I should be feeling well oiled.
I - I'll be too drunk to think of a shot that begins with I so I might have another go at A.
J - Jagermeister: Ideally as a J-Bomb with a Redbull too. Helps it go down better.
K - Kool Aid Shot: Simply mix your favourite flavour of Kool Aid with any spirit.
L - Long Island Ice Tea: I'm struggling for drinks here.
M - Malt Whiskey: My two favourite things.
N - Nalt Whiskey: Exactly the same as the previous.
O - I should probably skip 'O' or I'll be blocked.
P - Pernod: Probably my mouth will be numb by this stage so I won't have to taste the acrid aniseed.
Q - Quagmire: Apparently there is a drink by this name. I don't know what it is but I want one.
R - Rum: A dark one, natch.
S - Sang Som: My favourite Thai beverage. I'll have to import some though.
T - Tequila: The night starts to get interesting.
U - Uzo: Is where I lose consciousness.
V - Vodka: Is where I regain consciousness and start a fight with my reflection in the mirror.
W - Whiskey: Makes everything better.
X - Marks the spot - where I pass out.
Z - zzzzzz is what I'll be doing when I've completed the A-Z of shots.

This Time Last Year

An idea shamelessly stolen from Nelly (who probably shamelessly stole it from someone else).


This time last year I was fretting about my hair. Funnily enough I need a haircut now so no change there really. A year ago today my mind was still fairly innocent before them truckers corrupted me. I still had the faint markings of a Thailand Tan as opposed to ghost white skin.

But this time two years ago...

I was overly concerned about Leap Year babies and when they celebrate their birthdays, sorting out my provisional licence and buying HGV theory test books, watching Neighbours clips 'til I was physically ill and, like I do every January, eagerly awaiting Spring, longer days, warmer weather and good times.

Forward Planning Is The 1st Rule To Happiness

The second rule is not telling anyone but what the hell. With the current financial climate it's hard to feel secure in your job. Luckily I have a few back-up plans:

1. Hot Water Bottle Head Hannah's Hot Air Balloon Rides - Ok, so there's the small problem of buying a hot air balloon, getting my pilot licence and convincing people that taking a ride through the misty clouds of Norn Iron is an excellent idea.

2. Bert and Hannah's Wonderful Wooden Toys Inc. - Bert makes the toys, I promote them. This could be good with the credit crunch going on. Next Christmas kids will be overjoyed with their wooden bricks and cup and balls instead of their Nintendo Wii's and Xboxes. For sure!

3. Scabby Bird's Escort Agency - Men won't be able to afford expensive escorts. Oh no! Perfect time to promote the budget escort. I have several laydees who are perfectly willing to offer their services. Call 0800 696 696.



On a totally unrelated note regarding my lost phone: Salt Face, when someone asks for your number because they've lost their phone, it does not help if you send your number to the phone they have lost!!! Of course, I'd never have known if I hadn't got my phone back but, really, doh!

The Adventures Of Hannah's Phone

The reason I didn't send anyone any New Year greetings via text was because I lost my phone. Or rather, my phone was accidentally taken from my house. I say accidentally but who knows? A girl had the same phone as me. This girl and her fella thought that someone else at my house had called her a dog. Technically they had but it wasn't meant to offend. Anyway, this lass went home with my phone. I thought she might call my home number and get it back to me but she didn't.

A week and a half later, after I'd given up and bought a new phone, a girl in work told me she'd forgotten I'd lost my phone, called it and it was ringing. I called it and it was ringing but no answer. So if my phone was on it meant someone had charged it and was using it. I sent a text message saying: I think you accidentally took my phone with you on New Year but you can contact me on this no. and we can arrange for me to get it back.

No reply. I tried ringing it again. Switched off. By this point I was raging because I knew they had my phone and were using it. Monday morning in work I got a phone call from a solicitor in Ballymena. She had my phone. She'd called the office number which was my old boss' number and they told her where I worked. She'd found it on the street and went out of her way to get it back to me. She's one type of person. The chick and fella who thought they'd got a free phone out of me are another type.

I got my phone back but they'd deleted all my pictures and deleted a lot of numbers. They'd set it up to how they wanted it to be. None of that really matters though. I don't need the phone now 'cos I got a new one but the main thing is, they don't have it.

A Decommendation

After forcing mum and Bert to watch Tideland and then watching it again with Jakers I have decided it is not the kind of film that should be recommended. It's the kind of film that should be stumbled upon, accidentally. It can only be described as uncomfortable viewing, sugar-coated with exceptional cinematography and superb acting, but uncomfortable viewing all the same. It is a good film, just in a very twisted way. Watch it if you're brave.

Free Gift With Coat

Finally, a story from work that I can actually blog about. For surely that is the whole point of working, non?

A lass I work with, let's call her Alex, picked out a brown coat yesterday that was on sale for £8. She loved it and bought it and was wearing it in the shop when a customer asked her if there were any more. There wasn't.

When Alex took her break she left her coat in the shop. She also left the labels on her new coat so when a customer took it up to the cashdesk wee Prawn sold it, not realising it was Alex's.

How gutted was Alex that her new coat had been sold? Very. How much did we laugh when she told us she'd chewed off all her false nails and put them in the coat pocket? Lots! How funny would it be to see the look on the girl's face when she reaches into the pocket of her brand new coat and discovers someone elses' manky chewed up nails? VERY!!!!!!

Christmas All Over Again

Online shopping's a funny thing for me. It takes me a while to get into but when I do it becomes dangerous. Dad got me a gift voucher and I wanted new music but when it came to it I didn't know what to get. We watched the film Juno on Christmas day and I thought it had a nice wee mellow soundtrack so that was my first purchase. I'd been ranting and raving about Jeff Noon recently so I bought Pollen and Nymphomation. The final thing I got was Tideland. I'd watched this a couple of years ago and, typically, forgot the name of it. I told Kerm one night that it was called Fields Of Corn. It's a Terry Gilliam movie and although it's a bit dark it's extremely captivating. I then proceeded to the checkout to discover that I couldn't pay with my voucher because I'd bought used items. Aw weel...

I paid with my card and continued shopping. Suddenly I was inspired. I got the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's B.R.M.C. and a weird CD by Jack Johnson and friends called Curious George. I probably should've checked that one first. I also got Death In Vegas' Scorpio Rising. Nice bit of chill out music to soothe the mind. The last thing I got was The Tao of Pooh and The Te of Piglet by Benjamin Hoff. Thanks dad for all my lovely presents!!

Short 'n' Sweet (Like Dirt Bird)

Bert told us yesterday that he was in lighting Pearlie's fire the other day and she ordered him to pass her a pair of her white bloomers. Bert, being the obedient son that he is, dutifully passed the closest pair of Pearlie Pants to hand, flung them at her and got back to his manly buisness of fire-making. When he turned to look at Pearlie again he was surprised to see her brandishing the bloomers on her head. Says he: Whit d'ye have them on yer heid fer? Says she: Ma ears are cold!

So Bert left her to it, warming her ears with a pair of her pants. Forgot all about it 'til the carers came in to tend Pearlie and all he heard was great guffaws coming from her room!

Festive Cheer For My Teeth

Happy Christmas!!! When you get all the stress by you it's actually quite a nice time of year. I got lots of lovely presents from everyone. Amongst my favourites were the hat that Auntie J got me. It's a peaked beanie hat which is even better than a beanie hat because you can wear it in the summer and claim the peak keeps the sun out of your eyes. A hat for all seasons! I also loved the tee shirt Katkins got me and dearest dad sent me some Franz Ferdinand CD's and an amazon gift voucher. New music!!! My eardrums are trembling with delight. Mels spoiled me with Jelly Belly Beans, as did Moms and Auntie D. They must've picked up, somewhere along the line, that I like jelly beans. I think I have enough that I could actually take a bath in them.

Zoe created the best calendar ever, featuring 2 of the finests dog beasts in all this land. Another one of my best presents was from Danny Boy who sent me packets of Pocky, a Thai biscuit snack. I checked out the website which then inspired me to do a bit of sweetie research on the net (is that not what Christmas day is for?). I came across this site. Amazing. Scroll down and check out the crazy sugar delights such as cherry flavoured Bounty, Kit Kat chunky cookie dough flavour, Crunchie Freddo's! This may be my new favourite site. I especially love the 'chewy sweets and bars' section which includes the Skittles Chocolate mix!!! My teeth actually hurt looking at it.

There was another present I got from someone and it was really lovely. Unfortunately all he got back was socks and fudge. He would've got a chocolate russian roulette game as well except...uh...I couldn't wrap it so....uh.....Me, Mels, and Moms played it instead. Mum lost and had to eat the chilli sweet. She bait it into her mouth after claiming that she'd probably already eaten the chilli one without realising it. But the look on her face proved her wrong!!! Sorry Jakes but it was good fun.

Time to eat curry and bathe in jelly beans. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

Hats For Hot Water Bottles

Do you know how hard it is to get a beanie hat these days? Very. And do you know who I blame? Emo kids. Their hairstyles are too cool to cover up with boring headwear. And do you know what else is really hard to get? Hot water bottles, especially ones that come without a ridiculous soft and fluffy cover. Do people dress thir hot water bottles in coats in case they get cold?

I was nicknamed Hot Water Bottle Head Hannah by Jakers because, apparently, my head generates tremendous heat. Then why am I always so fecking cold? Mels once told me that you lose most of your body heat through your head. I remember her being sick with the lurgi and wearing a hat in bed. I need a hat for my hot water bottle head. I think I can see a point in those hot water bottle covers after all.

Christmas Shoes and Bully Beef

The job had been going alright but then today I was reminded what happens when a lot of girls work together; gossiping, bitching (or slabbering, as Ballymena folk like to say), whining, moaning, I said she said, and general annoying girly behaviour. Ach, it's not that bad, I'm just intolerant of this in the workplace. It's bad enough having to go out to work without having to work in a bad atmosphere.

On a brighter note, Salt Face has reminded me of a truly moving Christmas song about a pair of Christmas shoes. This song should probably actually have been banned because it's so disturbingly harrowing.

With all the excitement of the new batch of pork I had totally forgot about the bull calves Bert and Wacko are harvesting. I was asking if there meat would be veal when they died. Bert said they wouldn't. Oh how him and mum laughed at me when I asked if the meat would be bully beef. I couldn't figure out why they were laughing so much. I thought bully beef was the meat from an old bull hence the name, bully beef. It was in fact what people called corned beef in war times. Bert's folks used to refer to corned beef as bully beef. It's because none of his family were in the war so they had to pretend.

Also, I'd really love to know, is it easier to fold big blankets if you are taller?

Ho Ho Oh!

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery but today is a gift, that's why they call it the present.

This line was taken from Kung Fu Panda. I've been wrapping Christmas presents. It's taken me 26 years to learn a few things about wrapping presents. For example, only use the amount of paper needed. Excess paper makes for messy, bulky wrapping. Scotch tape, preferably on a tape dispenser, is the only way forward. It's the only sellotape that I don't get tangled up in. It's ten times classier looking than black tape too. The other thing that helps is patience. Too many years I have left wrapping to the last possible minute and handed over gifts that a 4 year old child could have wrapped better. The only good thing about this method is there's no way anyone's gonna guess what their present is.

At least I'm feeling a wee bit christmassy now. I still have loads to do but at least now I'm in the mood for doing them. Mels and Dirt Bird will both be home soon, which is good 'cause I've missed my girlies. Mels has some serious celebrating the end of her horrible examies to do and Dirt Bird has loads of getting drunk with Hannah and forgetting everything that happened to do! Yaay I can't wait!!

Sweaty Sweets

This is how my mind works: I'm unashamedly addicted to blogthings. The latest quiz they have featured is What Kind Of Sweater Are You? I immediately start to think about all the different ways you can sweat; profusely, coldly, sporadically? Of course it meant What Kind Of Jumper Are You? If it was called that, would there be loads of Americans thinking; long-jumper, high-jumper, trampoline jumper?

I actually pondered yesterday if Tic Tacs were pre-packaged in a certain way that made an even number of green and orange ones come out every time. After realising that this idea was ridiculous I came to the obvious conclusion that I had become expert at shaking an even number of both colours out. Today I was sorely disappointed to discover that it is not always an even number of Tic Tacs come out of the box.

I admit that it is odd to think so much about Tic Tacs but we all have our little quirks. I take my sweets very seriously. Mel and I managed to have a half hour conversation about Jelly Belly Beans. Mel has terrible taste in sweets though. She may beg to differ but I only know 2 people in the whole world who like white chocolate noses with green, snotty slime inside. I am due to participate in a sweet-off with the Dog Star. I've been told I'll be thrashed but I think I've been underestimated.

Speaking of taking sweets seriously, Nelly has professed to master the art of fudge-making. She's been doing her research and apparently confectionary requires a lot of skill. Even Z says that she hasn't conquered fudge yet and she's a domestic goddess. I can feel a fudge cook-off coming on y'know. Nelly vs Z vs Me. Bring it on!

Down On My Dish......Twice!

Friday was a bad day. Nothing really bad happened, it was just one of those days I shouldn't have left the house. I slipped on the ice getting off the bus and fell on my hoop. This was after the bus was late and kept me waiting in the freezing cold for half an hour. This was after I'd slept in and rushed around to get the bus. I arrived into work bloody-handed and dishevelled. I forced myself not to feel sorry for myself. This worked until after lunch sometime when I was running through the stock room, got my foot tangled in a plastic bag and fell, again, to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

I can't believe how quickly the time's going in. On one hand this is great as winter is rolling by and the sooner it's over the better. On the other hand it will be Christmas before I know it and I haven't even started Christmas shopping. This time last year I was spending my last days in Lopburi, Thailand. Oh I miss the warm sunshine. Another thing I miss is being anonymous. Christmas time in your hometown is like a war zone. Everyone comes out of the woodwork to buy presents and you find yourself taking half an hour to walk 10 metres because you have to stop and talk to everyone you know.

I'm really gonna try and inject some love back into my wee blog soon. I have ideas but time is limited. The winter is bleak and it's hard to do anything but just survive it. You'd think I had to endure winter in the North Pole the way I was talking about it! Well, I do live not too far from where the Polar bears reside.

Fluffiness

Dear oh dear. This is bad. I just checked my site metre and the only people who are visiting me are people who hate Natwest and people who want to know about Thai "boom boom". I need to do something more interesting with my life but right now it is actually too cold to function. I went to Primark today and invested in fluffy items of clothing. A nice soft dressing gown (the first one I have ever owned as men have always put me off them, lazing about the house looking slobbish) and some thick fluffy socks. I want to be warm this winter but I am not prepared to wear longjohns.

So Katkins, if you're reading this and you want to know what to get me for Christmas, think warm. But not longjohns. Ha! I have just glanced to the left of the computer to see a photo of Bert's dad back in the day when he was a young man. He looks like Humphrey Bogart! I think it's the hat and coat though. Perhaps everyone looked like Humphrey Bogart in those days.

How Much Is In A Litre?

It seems I have unwittingly gone into blogger hibernation. This is because it's cold and when I think of something to write about it it's too hard because my braincells are frozen and need thawed out.

This is my third week at the new job. It's ok. It's just as you'd expect a shop to be at Christmas time. Full of crazed shopping lunatics looking for pointless gifts to bestow on loved ones.

Fish Face Freddy is settling in well at Nellybert's. I have never known a cat to purr so much, want cuddled and look up lovingly at it's humans. It's young though. There's still time for it to learn it is a cat. Even old Pearlie Blue is besotted. Of course she would never admit this but you can see it in her eyes when she's feeding it bits of dry bread.

Holly De Cat is still somewhat wary of de kitten but she is dealing with her issues by overeating. She is one solid cat. Baby elephants weigh less.

Possibly one of the dumbest things I have ever asked anybody happened last weekend. After finishing work on Friday I raced to the off licence to purchase some fine Irish whiskey. I just wanted a small bottle but all they had was a ten glass and a litre bottle. I was trying to work out in my head if it was better value buying the litre bottle rather than the ten glass bottle but I am easily confused by matters involving numbers and so I asked the shop assistant how much was in a litre a bottle. As the words came out of my mouth I was already shaking my head at the stupidity and I was met with the answer: Uh....a litre. At this point I thought it was probably best to buy the litre bottle and unthaw some of those frozen braincells.

Fish Face Freddy

On April Fool's Day 1957 Panorama aired a spoof documentary claiming that spaghetti grew on trees. Click here if you want to see the broadcast. I've never been any good at playing pranks on people but Brad and Keara, two of the teachers I met in Thailand, had an ongoing feud with each other. I can't remember most of them but one of my favorites was Brad teaching Keara to say in Thai: That was delicious. What he'd actually taught her to say was: I have diarrhoea. Brad was devious in this way. So was Keara.

There's been a new edition to the Dreen pet clan. A little ginger tom kitten. Mum found him on the side of the road. He's pretty much the total opposite of Holly, who hates it by the way. Loathes it. We're calling him Fred. I liked the idea of Brucey but he suits Fred too. He's pretty damn cute but pesky all the same. Much more friendly and affectionate than Holly cat. This house had room for another pet though. He is only little after all.

A Buisness Plan That Could Take Off

Well, it seems there is an opening in the market for hot air balloonists in the Northern Ireland region. I was trying to find a company that operated hot air balloon rides round these parts but could ony find one and they were uncontactable through the WWW. Now I don't know about everyone else but if I can't find out such things as prices, destinations and times of certain events without having to call anyone it kinda puts me off. I like information to be accessible through the touch of a button rather than having to speak to someone. I have been spoilt with online everything (except online banking, never got through the registration process due to forgetting my password, repeatedly) and if I can't do it online, I'm not interested. Of course I am exaggerating ever so slighly.

So I wanted to book a hot air balloon ride as a present for Nellybert and although there are many companies that offer them, none do flights around Norn Iron. Perhaps there just ain't a big enough market for them here but it's one of them things that could catch on. Maybe the weather isn't hot air balloon flying friendly but are England and Scotland really that much better?

It got me thinking though. About the price of a hot air balloon and the vast amounts of money to be made and fun to be had. So I set about trying to find a 'hot air balloon for sale' website. It seems the whole buisness is quite elusive. Although I found sites advertising balloons many of them said they had no balloons for sale at that time. Is there a hot air balloon shortage? There must be.

If anyone knows anyone with a hot air balloon for sale let me know. And if anyone knows anyone with a skill for web design let me know. And if anyone knows anyone with a good head for buisness, let me know. We can join forces and together have the best hot air ballooning buisness EVER.

I apologise for the seriously baaaad puntastic title of this post. I'm away to scrub the shame from my face.

Same Same But Different

First day of a job is always the worst but because I knew what to expect it wasn't so bad. The thing that struck me the most was how glad I was to not be sitting on my arse all day. Office work just isn't for me. The other girls that work there are really pleasant and chatty and the environment is reasnably relaxed. My boss told me: You know everything you learnt in Next, forget it.

Shop work is same same but different. Essentially the work is the same but how you do it is different. Anyway, as much as I'd like to go into the details of how working in shops can differ (AYE RIGHT!) I will refrain from the boredom and instead leave you with a wee story about second hand shopping in Ballymena.

None of us like to think too much about the history of a garment bought from a charity shop. Did somebody die wearing this coat? Was the person a clean person? These are questions best not asked. Many years ago Granny bought a little red cardigan from a charity shop in Ballymena for a babby Katkins. She proudly showed it off to mum saying: Look what I got Katkins from the charity shop, isn't it lovely?

To which mum replied: Ach Mammy that already belonged to Katkins and I'd just handed it in to the charity shop!

How The Zoo Changed My Life

On Saturday Jakers and I went to Belfast zoo. I wanted to do something on my last weekend of freedom and Jakers thought the zoo was a good idea. It was!! Few things make me happier than animals. I just wish the animals were as pleased to see me as I was to see them. We hadn't really planned the whole thing too well and didn't see as much as we wanted to but it was still a great day out.

On the way there Jakers lost a tenner but on the way back we got 2 children fares from Glengormley to Antrim (yes, the bus driver thought we were 14) and we got a free train from Antrim to Ballymena. My favourite thing at the Zoo was the lions. Jakes liked the spectacled bears. I'd forgottten how good the giraffes were to see but the Meerkats were tucked up in bed.

Somewhere over the course of the weekend I decided to regain a bit of direction back in my life. Or at least think about it anyway. When I get the travelling bug out of my system (if I ever do) I'd like to train as a Social Worker. There is no point in me going from one dead-end job to the next. I managed to forget how much sociology interested me and I think it's about time that I put some of what I learnt into practice. I know Social Work is not easy work but I never said I wanted an easy life.

Anyway, it's just nice to feel like I know what I'm doing with my life. The recent change of job has knocked my confidence a bit (not so much leaving the job but having to settle for the new job) so it's good to have a plan to get some of that back. I don't want to be 35 and working in a shop. I really, really don't but unless I do some further studying and training that is exactly what's gonna happen.

Anyway, rant over. The zoo's ace and I have a little bit of ambition in my soul. Tis all good. I did also consider a career in the zoo but I think I did the wrong subject.

The Last Post Of Freedom

This is my last weekend of being a bum before I start work. Really I should've been practising the sax, taking photographs and expanding my mind through the power of literature but, instead, I chose to play silly games and colour by numbers. On the upside, I can now boast that I am able to run my very own virtual chocolate shop. Yo Ho!!! Takes me back to my Fish Tycoon days.

Also, I found out that my ex boss is telling people he sacked me. This is lurking at the back of my mind. Part of me thinks I should let it lie as I know the truth and I don't think my old boss could actually convince anyone that he did sack me (he is renowned for his lies and his ego) but another part of me would like to call him up on this and ask him what the bloody fucking hell does he think he's playing at? Maybe I should just sit back and let karma make amends.

Blog Filler

This is the first time ever, I think, I have come to write a blog post without actually having thought about what I'm going to write about. Could be deadly.

It's been lovley having the past couple of weeks off work. Better than any kind of holiday because I've just had time to chill. Mum, Granny and I spent a day last week doing Granny type things. This involved getting lost on the way to Antrim (one of Mum and Granny's favourite hobbies), being on a road that none of us had ever been on before (another one of Mum and Granny's hobbies). Granny gets excited when she sees a car stopped by the side of the road: Ooh I wonder what's going on there?

Mum casually replies: It'll be a drug deal.


This writing with no direction is tough. I can see the reflection of my fingers on the computer screen as they hover over the keypad wondering what buttons to press. They are seriously looooong fingers. I really should use them for something other than picking my nose.

The Weekend

You are never too old to learn lessons. I have also recently discovered that you are ever too old to be scolded by yer ma.

Friday night I invited some drunk yoofs back to the Dreen. My thinking behind it was that I would be at home bright and early to help mum with party preparations. I didn't account for the fact that I'd be waking mum up bright and early with my entourage of drunken yoofs (also bare in mind this was Halloween night so my entourage included a Blues Brother who looked like Suggs from Madness, Mario, Kerm, who wasn't actually dressed up but was covered in a mixture of fake and real blood and looked like death not even warmed up, and Lewis who just looked like Lewis). Needless to say mum was not happy. Despite this however she ended up making one of them coffee and porridge and helping Mario sew his dungarees.

The Mexican Day of the Dead party was a considerably chilled and quiet affair. I'd had no sleep on Friday though so was glad of this. Also, I got the job I had my interview for. Yussss! It's just a job in a shop for Christmas but a change is as good as a rest and any job is a good job until it becomes a crap job.

Animal Update: Bonnie and I are bonding since the tragic death of the Bitcher; Paddy is embracing the role of Top Dog with great authority, he has recently started begging for food like Rosie used to so he obviously thinks this is an imortant part of being the boss; Scruff is enjoying his holidays and is on constant cat-mauling duty; The cat is my new BFF. Her and Scruff don't get on so she's using my bedroom as a haven.

Watch Out Nigella

Ah, the reading content here at the Palace has been a little heavy of late so I thought I'd brighten it up a bit with a wee story about Dirt Bird:

One night, after a bottle of cider or 3, Dirt Bird and I went back to her parent's house. As soon as we got there Dirt Bird declared she was hungered and set about making a fry for herself.

As she was cooking it I told her about the frying pan fire I'd had earlier that week when cooking chicken. No sooner had I said this than her own frying pan went up in flames. Cue much screaming and running around in blind panic. The fire went out by itself.

We calmed down, allowed our hearts to go back down our throats and nervously giggled about what a coincidence Dirt Bird should have experienced a frying pan fire so soon after me telling her about mine. But we had no time to relax before the damn pan went up in flames again! More panic, screaming and general flusteredness. The fire went out again. Dirt Bird concluded her food was well fried and switched off the pan.

The reason I find this so funny though is because she actually sat down and attempted to eat her fry even though it was burnt to a crisp and she couldn't get her fork to stick in anything without it scooting off the plate.

Another cooking disaster involved tuna and my mate Jo. We wanted tuna and mayo sandwiches. We put everything in a big bowl and mixed it together. It wasn't until we were eating the amazingly runny sandwiches that we realised we'd forgotten to drain the tuna of it's brine!

Yummy!

Don't Hassle The Han

Mum and I took a wee scoot into town today to do a little pre-party shopping and so I could hand a few applications in. On the drive in we were talking about the actual converstaion I had with my boss before I walked out. The whole thing was over in a matter of minutes really. But I was saying to mum that he probably wasn't expecting me to react the way that I did. For one, why would he really want to get rid of a cheap employee at a time when he's immensely busy and already behind? So mum asked what I thought he wanted to achieve by starting on me.

I told her I thought he wanted to 'put me in my box'. He was so used to the meek, mild wee girl who wouldn't say boo to a mouse. He saw me, for the first time, showing annoyance and he didn't like it so he thought he'd assert some authority. He tried to put me in my box but, as mum pointed out, he didn't count on the box not having a bottom. He put me in and I just fell on straight through. We laughed at this and mum said: Don't hassle the Han!

Our pre-party shopping expedition went pretty well. Bert's now the proud owner of his first ever pair of Converse. Mum has her Halloween/Mexican day of the Dead costume sorted out. She's going as Scary Hairy Mary! Tomorrow night Z and I will have a massive spooky bun-making session and on Friday I have an interview. It's just retail but a job's a job and it buys me time. Yeeeooowww!

Hot Head Hannah vs The Toxic Boss

If anyone knows of any potential employers that would like to take on a 26 year old hard-working, punctual, eager to please, keen to learn, computer literate lassie please let me know. I need to find work, quickly, due to me telling my former boss that he could stick his job up his arse. But you have to realise that this is not generally the way I conduct myself around employers. In fact, I learnt the phrase 'ye can stick it up your arse' from my (ex) boss.

I have been unhappy there for a while now. Any job I do I like to feel that I'm doing it well. I couldn't do this job as well as I'd have liked to because there was too much expected off me and too little time. My boss gave me bare minimum information to work with. When one of his customers had a query that I couldn't answer I'd often ask my boss what I should tell them. His answer was usually: Tell her to go fuck herself. I grew sick of his unhelpful, arrogant manner of dealing with things. I got sick of people making demands that I just didn't have the time to meet. I'm sick of lying and covering up for my boss. I'm sick of him being a total cunt to people who have done good honest days' work for him but still have to beg for their cheques. I'm also sick of doing all this and being paid minimum wage. The last straw was today.

The boss could see I was getting a bit stressed out and so he asked me if I was unhappy with my job because if I wasn't happy I didn't have to work for him. I asked him if he was in my situation would he be happy. He didn't answer but said if I couldn't hack the pressure I could leave. So I did, because it felt like he was taunting me and I was already feeling like I didn't get paid enough to take shit without taking that shit too.

It was rash and impulsive and not exactly well thought out but it's done now and there's no point regretting it.

Thai Tales

When I was in Thailand I taught older kids between the ages of 11-15. If I'd had a choice I would've worked with younger kids but any experience is a good experience and because the older kids sometimes (I stress sometimes) had quite good English and you could teach them more. But when the shit hit the fan with the Secondary school I had a chance to teach at a Primary school, covering for someone for 2 weeks. The other night I found this in a notebook. I'd always meant to post it but when I came back it was a bit too difficult writing about Thailand. It's almost a year since I've been back now and it's about time I got round to sharing it:

I did my last day of teaching today. Obviously I'm happy because it was a chore getting up in the mornings but I also feel sad that it's all over.

I'm glad I had the chance to teach the younger children. It was a totally different experience from teaching high school kids. For one, they're much better behaved. They are more respectful and sweet and they are more easily pleased.

It was like a breath of fresh air having an assistnat to help me (I was lucky if the Thai teachers at the high school sat in on my lessons, let alone assisted me). Koong disciplined the children, which is something I've always hated doing. She also translated when the children didn't understand. The kids obviously learn much more in this kind of set-up.

The school I was working at was private so classes were much smaller than Prah Narai. Koong often talked about 'special' children. These kids came to class but never particiapted. In the West these children would live in residential homes and be closely monitored but mental health problems aren't properly recognised in Thailand.

I found these children fascinating. They obviously all suffered from different problems but were all treated the same way. One boy, who was missing half of his left arm, was very quiet but he obviously had a lot going on in his head. He was jittery, chewed on a little piece of plastic wrapping. He was largely ignored by the rest of the class and he ignored them but every once in a while he'd get excited and come over and grab hold of me and fixate on something.

Some of the 'special' students were merely not as intelligent as their peers. They could so the work but not as quickly or to the same ability as everyone else.

One little boy liked to be told fables. Koong would sit at the back with him and tell him traditional Thai stories. He'd fall asleep almost instantly but wake up looking startled if Koong stopped.

There was only one student that Koong told me to be careful around. He'd bitten her a few times and he liked to hit the other children. It didn't help that he was twice, maybe 3 times the size as all the other 6 year olds. He lay down on the ground and wailed and moaned. If he got up all the kids would get up and run away from him. He looked permanently distressed. I felt sorry for him.

The most fascinating children were a little boy and a little girl who shared a table. They obviously hated each other and the other children that shared a table with them were wary. The little girl would move away from the boy, causing the others to shuffle around so they weren't too close to her. But they'd shuffle around 'til another student was too close to the boy then he'd start shuffling round in the opposite direction to get away from him. The little girl and boy would hit each other and yel at each other. Koong left them to it.

The older childen were very inqusitive about me. They wanted me to write my name, age and birthday in their notebooks and they drew pictures of me beside them. They asked me questions about my life at home; did I have pets; siblings; was my house made out of wood or cement. They asked these questions in Thai and Koong translated. But they were still listening to English and therefore learning. Sometimes you could spend a whole lesson with the older students just trying to get them to be quiet.

It ended there but reading it over makes me realise that if I'm ever gonna teach again it'll be the young 'uns because they're not as cocksure as teenagers are. Hmmm...makes me long for a better job and a bit of adventure.

I Am Today

You Are Wednesday

Like this day of the week, you are ruled by Mercury. More than anything, you are unpredictable. You are witty and wise - but you are also easily bored. You tend to be flighty and careless. You are unreliable at times. In some ways, it's perfect that you match up with hump day. You are always coasting downhill - even when it seems like an uphill battle.

What Day of the Week Are You?

The genearl mood at Nellybert's is very ho hum. We know it will pass though.

Meanwhile, there is a party to plan. It was meant to be a Halloween party but, as we're now having it on the 1st November, it will be a Mexican Day of the Dead party. I feel the need to rush out and buy a big bottle of tequila.

Scritchy Bitchy In Loan Hill Heaven

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Originally uploaded by jazzthefunk

It sucks when your dog dies. You console yourself with the fact that they had a good life and lived to a good age but it still just sucks. Because, ultimately, you want them to live forever, like you want everything that you care about to live forever.

But they don't and and you deal with it and I can honestly, truly say that Rosie led a pretty perfect life. She was a total dreamboat that could charm the pants off most. When you know and love an animal, you find their ways so endearing that it breaks your heart you'll never know it again. Like the way she'd eat one hardnut at a time, the way she'd scritch and scratch at the door, incessantly, until you let her in, her obsessive-compulsive need to round up and herd other animals, her happy, excited tail-wagging when she saw a lead coming out, ah, the list goes on and on.

It's funny how the one weekend that I stayed in happened to be the last weekend I'd spend with Rosie. I woke up yesterday morning and she was lying curled up at the bottom of my bed. She lay curled up on mum's knee last night. She slept with Bert last night. She had her innings. But she'll be missed.

Pan-Aid-A

It's amazing the way reading the Sunday papers can inspire life-changing decisions. I always did want to join the circus (as a lion-tamer tamer, the person who tames the lion-tamer) and it seems that maybe it really is my true calling in life. I want to be a wheel gymnast like Achus Emeis. It looks like such good fun. All I need is a big wheel and a leotard. How hard could it be to find a big wheel?

I drank to the point of stupidity last weekend and vowed never to lip booze again. Of course I was as right as rain by Tuesday but I still had a quiet one this weekend. I was Pearlie-sitting while Mum and Bert spent a night away. Pearlie was no bother but it seems I actually need lessons in how to close hens up for the night.

I thought maybe a weekend of purity might help inspire a little creativity but, alas, no my brain cells must still be recovering from last weekend. The most constructive things I've done this weekend is build fires (I'd have made an excellent caveman) and learn how to cook panada* (is that how ye spell it ma?).

*Panada (or Panade, possibly?) pron. Pan-aid-A

Hannah's Dictionary Def: What you feed the cat when there's no canned meat or hard nuts; what you feed Pearlie when there's no spuds; a rare dish that rare people eat, consisting of a slice o' breed broken up, a wee taste o' warm water and a wee taste o' warmed milk; A culinary delight.

So, yeah, a really constructive weekend. I learnt how to make soggy bread in warm milk.

Hannah Hates Holly Cat

A happy person is not a person in a certain set of circumstances, but rather a person with a certain set of attitudes.

I read this little ditty off a calendar at work. Considering my present circumstances at work I thought it was good advice. In fact, it's good advice for every aspect of life. It's too easy to blame your mood on external factors. Of course, to some extent, it can't be helped but I think we are more in control of our emotions than we care to let ourselves believe.

Here are some other proverbs floating round my brain:

If you don't ask, you don't get: How true, but just because you ask doesn't mean you're gonna get.

Don't count your chickens before they hatch: You might have ten eggs but 5 could be rotten.

Look before you leap: I've always struggled with this one. I like being impulsive but it pays to consider all possible outcomes. Sometimes.


Anyway, pet update: Bonnie is so hungry because of her 'roids she's taken to bin-hoking. Thankfully she's off the meds now; Paddy is most definitely gay - ask Jonathan; Rosie has become a member of my Hollycat-hating campaign. Holly makes me wonder why I wasted all that time trying to befriend stray cats.

This is What I Am

You Are a Pig

You are very intelligent, and you enjoy being around people. You can trust others easily. You have great reasoning skills, and you are quick learner. You are able to adapt to most situations. You tend to be very territorial and picky. You don't like people messing with your stuff. You have keen senses and reflexes. You can defend yourself well and quickly sense danger.

What Animal Are You?

Last week I watched a film. I can't recall the name of it but it was a fantasy story where everyone had there demons on the outside and they took the form of an animal. Got me thinking about people I know and what animal would be their demon.

Nelly I thought would be an owl but Bert said: Are owls not meant to be wise?

When I told mum this she said she'd be more like a bison or some big herd animal. I thought Bert would be some kind of reptile, like a big iguana or one of them slow moving critters.

I asked a few people what they thought I would be. Jakers said a lynx. Dirt Bird said a fawn (yes a fawn, not a faun, I checked), Nigel said a Jack Russell, which worried me a bit 'cos it was a little too perceptive for someone who doesn't know me that well. As it turns out, I am a pig. A pig! Class.

Itsy Bitsy Thumbnail Size

I walked in yesterday to hear Bert playing this little gem on the clarinet. Yes, that's right, Bert is learning Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini. I think he was aiming for the Brian Hyland version but it was sounding a bit more like Timmy Mallet to me.

In other news: We have recently discovered that if you think of the most boring, mundane thing that's happened to you Pearlie will consider this to be the most exciting and entertaining news ever! If you tell her about something totally amazing, however, she'll look at you with a blank expression. Oh, and if she does ever eat anything it's only ever a bit the size of a thumbnail (but what kind of thumbnail? A human's? An elephant's?).

Doggy news: The cat is a bastard! Whiny, gurny, miaowing bastard! There is little joy with her. Bonnie has become a cunning food thief. Paddy proves time and time again that he's all brawn and no brains and Rosie is keeping a low profile (which means she's probably planning some kind of big drama).

Work Update: The less said the better. It's Friday, Yaaay!

How Long's A Bitch?

This is the typical kind of text conversation I have with my mate Kerm:

Me: WHAT'S YR GEN TO DA A (GET IT? I THOUGHT IT WAS WELL SMART) TONIGHT? WHAT TIME YE BE OUT?

Kerm: I AM OUT

Me: RIGHT THEN COVE I'LL SEE YE IN A BITCH

Kerm: HOW LONG'S A BITCH?

Me: AS LONG AS A WEE WIGGLY WORM WRITHING ON A WREATH

Kerm: FUCK YOU BOYROOT. TIME?

Me: HALF SEVEN GRUMPY BALLS X

Kerm has little patience for me being vague about what time I come out. As it happened, I went out about ten and I'm not even sure I saw him. When I came down from getting ready mum looked at me and said: I have to laugh at you, it takes you 6 hours to get ready and you look exactly the same as you started.

Now, back to what's really important. Halloween. Mel, Nelly and I need some costume suggestions. Dad, I know you offered some but if I'm going to be drinking a lot it's probably best I don't look like something so horrendous that I'm gonna want to puke when I look at myself. Any ideas, let me know.