Rhyme and No Reason!

Blogger, author and rhymester who likes to find the humour in life.

Episode 48: Dad Dancing…. — November 17, 2014

Episode 48: Dad Dancing….

I was thinking about my dad this morning, and what a character he was. Born and bred by the sea, he thought nothing of going swimming in all  weathers. Rain never hampered him, in fact, he used to tell us kids that it was warmer in the water when it rained! That was certainly true in his case as he always wore the same pair of skimpy Speedo trunks (no daughter, or son for that matter,should have to see their dad in Speedos, but he would not be told)!

His idea of sun tan lotion was olive oil! Turning frequently in the sun, and slathered all over in grease, he roasted up a treat and was always a golden brown colour in the summer! As well as the dreaded Speedos, he also had a penchant  for VERY short shorts, which he teemed with the obligatory ‘mandals’ (as I like to call them, you know, the strappy man sandals that look good on no-one)! This attire he would wear even into his early 80’s.

Aside from his love of swimming Dad loved to try and get the most out of life He and my step-mum would travel extensively all over the place and I have a lovely collection of postcards I received, with his indecipherable scrawl (it would normally take a couple of attempts at reading it before it sank in what he had written), detailing all the things they had been getting up to.

They also had a property in Spain where they lived for six months of the year to avoid the harsh  English winters (who can blame them)! When they came back home though they had all these clubs that they went to, one of which was the ‘Recycled Teenagers Club.’ This was my dad to a tee.. He was always up for a challenge, and I remember him and my step-mum at one of my niece’s 18th birthday party. Someone (probably Dad) had asked the DJ to play the ‘Macarena’. As soon as it started him and my step-mum were straight out of their chairs with a speed that belied their aging years, and onto the dance  floor, trying to drag some of us up on the way. (I have got 2 left feet and decided to sit that one out).

Anyway, off they went onto the floor with all the ‘youngsters’ . I can still picture to this day my dad’s face, eyes closed, totally oblivious to everyone around him, concentrating on the music and the steps he had to do. I roared my head off when it came to the hip thrust bit, although a bit alarmed that with the effort he was putting into it, his back might give out! He was having a whale of a time, and stayed on the dance floor for quite a while!

Not only did he like to dance, but he also loved music. Although he couldn’t read a note, he could somehow manage to play anything by ear, and he would sometimes sing along in his rich melodious voice, whilst the rest of us would bang on a tambourine, or plink on the electric keyboard to accompany him! So much better than sitting in front of the tv!

Needless to say, Dad reached out and grabbed life with both hands, he wanted to experience lots of different things. He loved food, and had a very hearty appetite (he was never overweight though). I don’t think there was anything he wouldn’t eat; even though the rest of us wimped out at the hottest curry, dad would relish it. if we were too fussy to eat out food, dad would polish it off, as he hated waste.

He was also very articulate and knowledgeable. It seemed to me that he knew something about everything! Education was extremely  important to him, and he always tried to encourage us to do well at school (whether we wanted to or not)! He was the type of man who mixed easily with anyone from any background. He always found something interesting to  say, and had a wicked sense of humour (I hope that some of this has rubbed off on me)!

My dad sadly passed away a couple of years ago now. He still did as much as he could right up until he was no longer physically able, and still kept his positive attitude throughout…I was feeling a bit down today, but thinking about my dad, has put a smile on my face, as he was always such fun to be around despite his dodgy taste in swimwear!

Episode 47: Ooops I Did It Again! — November 16, 2014

Episode 47: Ooops I Did It Again!

I am the undisputed queen of ‘putting my foot in it’, literally as well as figuratively! I just seem to  attract calamities and disasters, and can make a fool of myself without any help, or encouragement whatsoever!

Often it is because I have misheard something, particularly on the phone. Once  I have asked them to repeat themselves a couple of times, to make sure I heard correctly, I then confidently pass on the message, only to be greeted with a baffled look or stunned silence. For example, I took a call for my boss (he could give Mr Grump a run for his money) when I had not long started at a travel brochure company, I put the call through and informed him it was Mr X from PMT. When he had reluctantly taken the call,he came out of his office and roared at me that the caller was from TNT (the courier service)! I had thought that PMT was a funny name for a company but being new, what was I to know)?!

In my younger days, I remember going out with my two sisters to a pub, I had dressed to impress, and we went to the bar to order our drinks. It was quite packed, but luckily there was an unoccupied bar stool next to me so I thought I would make use of it. Being a little short, I kind of had to hike myself up a bit to get on it. Once I had plonked myself down, I realised I was not on it properly as it tilted dangerously to one side. As I attempted to right myself, I just ended up twirling round and around on one stool  leg at  a time. My sisters and some random bloke put their arms out to try to steady me, which eventually they managed to do. However, my pulling power was greatly reduced (actually it was zero), and we got out of there pretty soon after!

Weddings are the place where people like me can really shine in the glow of embarrassment! My sister and brother in-law had a beautiful January wedding in a country house where we all stayed. As luck would have it, the weather was pretty clear on this day and we went outside to have some group photos taken.. I was really pleased with my outfit, but especially the expensive purple four-inch stiletto shoes which really set it off! As we were gathering for the family photo, my lovely shoes seemed to turn into ice skates on the decking where we were standing. I was slipping and sliding, falling madly with my arms windmilling, trying to keep my balance as I hurtled my way towards the rest of the group. The gasps and guffaws of the onlookers intensified my mortification, but I did mange to stay upright!

At my niece’s wedding breakfast after the speeches, I was to read out a poem that I had specially written for her and her husband.(It is something I have done for years for any special family occasion), Even though I am no public speaker and get really nervous, I got up to recite my poem.  Everyone was giving me encouraging looks as I started reading with my voice shaking. As I continued, I realised that my fancy headband was slipping a bit. I tried to surreptitiously push it back up and carry on, but I jerked a little bit and it fell off with an almighty clatter onto the table, thus drowning out my words! I waited for the laughter to die down and carried on..cringing!

These are just a few of the many little trials I face on an almost daily basis. Even at work, I am not immune. I have tripped over more Zimmer frames than I care to remember, cleaned up countless puddles, where I have knocked over washbowls or jugs of water, and gouged out tracks in the polished floor where I hadn’t  taken the brake off the weighing scales properly when wheeling them along the entire length of the corridor! Luckily my colleagues know what I am like after all this time, but I remember when I hadn’t been there that long. I was walking along the corridor back to the ward from the toilets when the ward sister behind me called me and informed me that I had got my dress tucked into my knickers thereby showing off my big bum to all and sundry…nice!!!

Episode 46: Turning Full Circle….. — November 15, 2014

Episode 46: Turning Full Circle…..

Me and Mr Grump go back quite a long way (30 years to be precise)! We first met at a small Army Barracks where we were both stationed. I had literally just got out of  basic training and was still quite a shy and quiet 18-year-old (One of the reasons I joined the Army was to ‘come out of my shell’ a bit). He was a cocky and confident 21-year-old Army chef (definitely a good start there, he loves to cook, I love to eat)!

Anyway, I didn’t pay that much attention to him at first, preferring to concentrate on the food he was dishing up. I had not been on the camp that long, and it was still a bit of an ordeal for me going into the cookhouse as it was always packed, and I didn’t know many people yet; however, if I wanted to eat I had to go in…simple!

I had made a  couple of friends in basic training who had gone before me to this posting, and I ended up sharing a room with one of them,who went on to become my best friend (we are still in contact today) Karen, (this friend) and I decided to take advantage of the private strip of beach that we had on this camp, and headed off for a paddle in the sea.

We ended up going for a proper swim as it was a gorgeous, hot day, we had a little time to kill, and wanted to make the most of it. what I didn’t mention is the fact that, as it was an ‘off the cuff swim’, we hadn’t dressed for the occasion, and were just wearing shorts and t-shirts. Mr Grump, (actually back then he was spiky haired, and very lean and fit) and a friend of his had the same idea and were also having fun in the sea, swimming and splashing about.

They got out a little before Karen and I, and were just hanging around on the beach. As I came wading of the water, Mr Grump came over to me with his jacket which he thoughtfully wrapped around me. I thanked him for his kindness and we eventually went on to have a rather tempestuous two-year relationship.(oh, and he  later told me that he knew exactly what was in store for him, as my yellow shorts, white top, plus underwear,  had gone completely see-through in the water AND he had a bloody good look before bringing me the jacket to spare my blushes)!

We did get engaged during the two years, but were much too young and immature really, plus Mr Grump was being posted elsewhere and was a bit of a Jack-the lad in those days! We ended u going our separate ways, and although Karen and I both left the army after 3 years, Mr Grump continued to serve.

I came back to my home town, and life moved on…I did occasionally think about Mr Grump, and at one time, went to visit his mother in Wales for a few days. I didn’t see him at that time, as he was off serving abroad somewhere. Anyway, I ended up getting married, and much later  I had my beautiful daughter . He of course also went on to have children and marry.

As I mentioned, I was still in touch with Karen, and one day she told me that she had seen Mr Grump on Forces Reunited, and that he would be pleased to hear from me. I was really shocked  after all the time that had passed, but was so curious. After all, I had thought about him many times over the years, so anyway I bit the bullet and contacted him.

We sent messages back and forth for a while but then finally decided to meet up. I had been single for a few years as Miss Hap’s father and I had split when she was a very young baby. I had arranged to meet him in a local Supermarket car park, but he got lost as had to drive for a couple of hours to get there, Finally he made it there and seeing him was like the years just melted away (well aside from the fact that he had put on a few stone and his  hair was bald on top and long at the back which he put into a pigtail)! That was it for both of us…. after a few weeks, he moved in, and six months later we married! (By this time I had got at him with the hair clippers, he lost a load of weight, I put a load on), but we were happy

Karen and her family of course came to the wedding, and she was one of our witnesses;  Miss Hap was our gorgeous bridesmaid and  we had a small, intimate ceremony (so intimate I didn’t realise the room would only hold 4 people (and the huge dress that I had chosen), so a few of our family stood outside the window looking in at us exchanging vows!! We did have a reception at the local pub though for everybody and it was a wonderful day.

It just goes to show, how unpredictable life is! I never would have guessed, that after being apart for 25 years, Mr Grump and I would not only meet up again, but I would eventually become his wife, even if it took me 30 years to do it!!

Episode 45: Don’t Let The Grass Grow Under Your Feet… — November 14, 2014

Episode 45: Don’t Let The Grass Grow Under Your Feet…

I do love autumn…the beautiful colours, the fresh, crisp days,the overgrown garden…(hang on a minute, that bit I don’t love)!I I don’t have a very large garden at all, but the 40ft I have got is nearly all grass, apart from a little path that goes straight up the middle, and the border where I have my rose bushes.

The reason that the grass is so long outside is all Mr Grump’s fault! He is chief gardener and mower of the lawn.I might occasionally dead head a rose when the need arises, but I like to appreciate, rather than create, or maintain! Mr Grump made the fatal mistake of lending our trusty lawn mower to my younger sister (Mrs OCD), and her husband (Mr Cack-Handed). He should have known that it would all end in disaster!

The end result was that the lawn mower went ‘BANG’, the cable was somehow cut, and both of them blamed the other for the demise of our mower. However, Mrs OCD assured us that they would carry out the necessary repairs,and return the  mower back to us fully restored to life….

Now I know my sister is pretty meticulous in everything she does, and she is a dab hand at most  things (cooking, sewing, crafting, painting and decorating to name but a few), but I know she is not too keen on DIY jobs, which meant that Mr Cack-Handed was going to take up the challenge to revive the dead mower!

I have to enlighten you at this point, that a screwdriver, pliers and a hammer are the extent of Mr Cack-Handed’s tool kit! Mr Grump has a whole load of stuff in his tool armoury  which clutter up my shed and cupboards, but he at least can be relied upon to tackle most DIY jobs with a relish and do a half-decent job of it! My poor hapless brother-in-law, by contrast hates DIY with a passion, and is not known for his accomplishments in this department.(Although when it comes to composing lyrics of a song, or playing a guitar and performing, he is amazing).

A couple of examples of his ‘handy’ work: He built my sister an archway in the garden which she has covered with roses, unfortunately it was a little wonky to say the least, and after a few failed attempts to straighten it out, Mr Grump and my nephew stepped in and sorted it. The other ‘job’ he botched was the guttering outside their patio doors. A clip was missing and it leaked so he found a Barbie credit card ( God knows from where), folded it in half and wedged in place! To be fair, that has lasted over a year in all weathers!

Anyway….we waited with bated breath for our  mower…and waited….and…borrowed next door’s as it was summer and the grass was taking over the garden! Mr Grump did say he would do it himself, but I think it was a pride thing and Mr Cack-Handed wanted to do it.

Finally we were told it was repaired (the cable replaced) but not re-assembled as he couldn’t remember the order in which he had dis-assembled it! Mr Grump went over to collect it. As he was putting it back together, he realised that the cable was too short; it has been wrongly measured and cut too much. Luckily my brother was visiting from Malaysia that day, and suffice to say, he and Mr Grump fixed the mower!

The only problem now is waiting for the ground to dry up. Ever since we have had the mower back, it has either been raining or the ground too wet to mow properly., and as I have not got Mr Grump insured yet, I don’t want him getting blown up!!

Meanwhile. Mr Grump informs me that he and other family members are trying to build up a bit of a tool collection for Mr Cack-Handed, leaving odd tools over there when they visit him. Personally, I am not sure this is such a good idea. After all, you wouldn’t leave a load of ingredients with someone who couldn’t cook, and expect them to produce a gourmet meal!

Episode 42: It’s Awkward Being Me…. — November 12, 2014

Episode 42: It’s Awkward Being Me….

Don’t you just hate the type of women that always, without fail, manage to look perfect; from shiny, healthy, beautifully styled hair to their manicured (or is that pedicured)? toenails! Unfortunately, I am not, and never will  be one of those women, but how I envy them!

Take how I dress for work, for example; aside from the very unflattering uniform, (which by the way, is  the shade of grey that is only normally achieved by putting a white and black item in the same wash on a high temperature; it looks dirty before I have even started). I never bother to wear any make up (it would be pointless as I get soooo hot on the ward) and I usually put my hair up in a clip so there is no styling involved. If I did make an effort to wear make-up and have some stylish up-do (which iI would have to get someone else to do anyway…I’m rubbish with hair)  then it would all be ruined within the first hour of me being there!

As I mentioned I get really hot and after a while of running around, the sweat is dripping down my face, which is bad enough (and embarrassing) without imagining what the end result would look like if I had carefully made up my face. Not only would I have ghastly streaks down my face from rivulets of sweat spoiling the foundation, but no doubt, the mascara would run, causing hideous black, spidery smudges mingling with streaky foundation! (Remember I am there to try to help the patients feel better, not scare them into an early grave)!

Talking of work, I used to have a colleague called Jenny who was one of these perfect women. We used to work in the Operations department of a busy travel brochure company,  so could mostly wear what we wanted to work. On this particular day she and I both turned up in identical outfits! We had on hot pink 3/4 trousers, a black top and black mules. Neither one of us knew the other was going to wear said outfit, and that was only the start of my humiliation!  Jenny is tall, willowy and blonde, and she looked fantastic…. I am blonde, but that is where the similarity ends, as I am also short and chunky!  Needless to say everyone commented on our outfits, and my other friend made it worse by calling us Bim and Bo (put it together and you get,,,,,the picture)!

Jenny and I became good friends, and used to go to the gym together during our lunch hour (why do I set myself up to fail)?! The day I  remember vividly (branded in my brain as one of THE worst embarrassing moments) started when both of us were on adjacent treadmills… We built up the speed until we were running… Just before ten minutes were up, I was gloating over the fact that  Jenny had slowed down and I had managed to keep up the pace! Well, we all know what pride comes before… and sure enough I lost concentration, and my footing…I was flailing desperately trying to stay upright..but no…BANG. I fell on the treadmill which was still going and it resented my falling on it. so it spitefully chucked me right off ,so I landed with a thud in a heap at the foot of one of the other exercise machines!

I sat there winded and rather red in the face, and my leg hurt. Oh no…here comes Mr Hunky Gym Instructor Guy…great.. I look like a right bloody fool. He comes over solicitously, helps me up and leads me off to the changing room to minister to my wounds, which I reluctantly showed him, ( I was dying of shame showing him my tree trunk legs, which were bruised and scraped)! No real damage was done so manfully (or womanfully) I decided to go back out there and work out on one of the machines. I chose the one where you could sit down, and use the weights to bring your arms backward and forward( you can tell I am no Gym bunny as I don’t know what any of the machines are called). Anyway….there was a bloke that was working out opposite me who was giving me a bit of a funny look. I assumed he had seen my little ‘accident’ and carried on. He still kept glancing my way, and I knew it wasn’t a lustful look (God knows, if it was he must have been desperate)! I looked down and to my utter mortification, noticed that the underwire from my bra, had somehow broken free and was poking out of my top! That was it…time to go…and never to return!

Jenny of course, looked as elegant and fresh when she had finished her workout as she had before she had started!!!

Episode 40: Christmas Crackers!!! — November 10, 2014

Episode 40: Christmas Crackers!!!

As we are well into November, everything is getting geared up for Christmas. The shops are starting to get decked out, and the festive goodies are already on display in some Supermarkets (even though most of the Christmas food will be out of date way before then)!!

As I may have said before, I come from rather a large family, most of whom have had the same upbringing, but it is funny how we all have our own ideas and traditions at Christmas time…..

My Mum, up until fairly recently lived in quite a large house which had separate dining room, living room and kitchen. The cupboard under the stairs in the dining room was chock-a-block with Christmas decorations. There were those huge plastic placards with snowmen or a Father Christmas on it; she had a box with her nativity scene, baubles, tinsel, strings of coloured lights (every year we sat there going through bulb by bloody bulb trying to work out which one had gone so the lights would work); she had church candles, christmas candles, a hanging santa which said ‘Ho Ho Ho!’ when you smacked it’s arse; another hanging Santa that everyone smacked their head on as they went upstairs; plus all of the dangly garlands and hanging sparkly bits…oh yes Mum loves a bit of sparkle at Christmas.

The only problem with that is, once my step-dad had sadly died and Mum got older,  one of us had to put the damn things up. Now this was a mammoth task..and more often than not involved a few of us, which was not always easy to co-ordinate! The end result was to look like a fairyland Grotto. My younger sister always got the job of taping up the front-room windows and stencilled little snow shapes onto them, which always looked nice but was a pain to do. I usually tackled the lights which never worked, and then our husbands would set about putting up all the other hanging bits and pieces under Mum’s fierce direction

Instead of leaving us all to crack on with it, she would tell whilst balancing precariously on whatever furniture was handy, “could you just lean over a bit more to the left as it’s not straight” . You try to oblige and  are struggling to keep your balance, but just manage to reach the desired spot when the drawing pin bends and breaks, so you have to start again!

All of this is usually carried out to the sounds of Westminster Cathedral Choir (one of Mum’s favourites) belting out Christmas carols in their high-pitched voices, (which actually feel like a drill through your head after a while) or if we are lucky, the usual Christmas album that nearly everyone has which my sister or one of the kids has brought over!

Anyway, once the job is done, and we have stood outside on the street to admire the decorations, lights and windows, Mum is left to fill up her shelves with ornaments, candles and other nick knacks. This is not the end though because of course, the tree has to be put up as well. She used to have a real tree but bought an artificial one some years ago which needs to be assembled!

I have done this job on many an occasion and it is not pleasant!! Firstly, the tree has to be retrieved from the garden shed, where it has become buried under all the summer stuff, chairs,, loungers etc. The garden shed has MICE which means I will scream my head off at any movement, and run out of the shed, This of course means that it takes ages to find the tree..

Once I have got it assembled a while later,  it is another fight with the lights that have to go on it, not to mention all  the baubles, bells, bows,robins and God knows what else, (not forgetting the obligatory fairy at on the top) before Mum would be satisfied with it. It was usually, by the way, only about the first of December at this point!

I just have to mention the one and only Christmas i spent with my Dad and step-mum. Myself and younger sister were about 11 and 13 at the time, We had traveled down to see him by coach and were excited to see what kind of Christmas we would have…..

My step-mum was a bit fussy about the decorations… she did not want any drawing pins in her walls or ceilings so poor Dad, with our help, put up everything we could with Sellotape! She was also not a very good cook either and as Dad wanted some home-made mince pies, and hers had turned out so hard they could be used as breeze blocks, me and my sister made them.

On Christmas day my brother and his wife (who lived in the same town) were invited over for lunch with us. He was in his early twenties, and at the time belonged to a motorbike group. He could appear a bit intimidating with all of his tattoos, earrings and leathers, and I know my step-mum was a bit wary of him….anyway we waited AGES for lunch. All of us in my family take after my Dad as far as large appetites go (step-mum eats like a bird) We offered to help but it was refused, and finally we were asked to sit around the table. At last!!! We sat there for a good 20 more minutes, until finally the sliding door to the kitchen opened (which was in the same room) and out she came with the turkey. We all clapped and cheered which nearly made her drop it, such was her rage!

As we sat around enjoying the meal, something strange happened….the decorations we had put up started falling down around us, one by one!  On this occasion she had shut the kitchen door, so the steam and heat from the kitchen had built up and rendered the Sellotape useless thereby everything around us literally came unstuck!  Me and my sister were trying not to giggle as yet another decoration landed around us! Dad caught step-mum’s eye, and  carried on tucking into his turkey blissfully!!

Episode 38: Saturday Sport… — November 8, 2014

Episode 38: Saturday Sport…

Mr Grump is in his element today, as the Rugby is on.  Apparently it is the Autumn Internationals (?), and as Wales (he grew up in Cardiff) and Australia are playing, it promises to be a riveting game. I am not that bothered myself, especially as England have failed to qualify,  but will enjoy rooting for Australia to wind him up!

I will say I certainly prefer rugby to football though. For a start, the men are REAL men, with their cauliflower ears, squashed noses and thick thighs, unlike some of the footballers with their perfect hair, chiselled looks and manicured nails. Rugby players get stuck right into the game, and if they get hurt (especially if there is a punch up), they just carry on bloodied and bruised. Footballers however are very precious; They get a foot away from another player and down they go, rolling around on the floor for a few minutes, faces contorted in agony even though there didn’t appear to have been any physical contact!

God help them if their hair gets messed up or someone gets hit in the face….oh dear, bye-bye advertising career. You can’t have some ugly broken-nosed, wonky-eyed footballer advertising Nivea or L’Oreal for men…no that wouldn’t do, and worse still who would want to seem them in their (very snug) underpants?! Not me, that’s for sure. Rugby players however, if they do any form of advertising, it is usually beer or pizza, not some namby-pamby skin care/shampoo/hair dye etc.

Another huge difference are the fans. As a general rule, there is rarely any trouble at rugby matches. Adults and kids seem to really enjoy themselves, and opposing fans are seated together. Alcohol is even allowed in the stadium!! This is a far cry from some of the football matches. Fans normally have to be separated, even to the extent of travelling to and from the stadiums, often using different busses and trains, many having to be supervised by a strong police presence. Plus you get the ‘yobbos’ that are just there to make trouble, and pick fights, with no regard for the game itself! Such a shame.

Mostly, the fights that occur in Rugby are on the pitch, when one or two players get involved in  fist fight, which is duly forgotten after the match, when everyone mingles together in the bar. If two opposing football team fans met in the same pub, it would more than likely kick-off, and would end in serious injury.

The biggest advantage of all though for me, is that Mr Grump only really watches the  International games, which are not that often. I can quite happily sit through the odd match now and again, especially as there are plenty of big, burly guys running about in their little shorts to keep me interested!!

Episode 37: I Hope Chivalry Never Dies!!! — November 7, 2014

Episode 37: I Hope Chivalry Never Dies!!!

I thought that I would have a bit of a rant in today’s blog. If there is one thing I can’t stand, it’s bad manners. In one of the blogs I follow Storytime with John (http://storytimewithjohn.com/2014/10/31/manliness/ )    he mentions how his brother held open the door for two ladies at the University he attended, and rather than just go through it, they became offended, refused to go through the door, leaving this poor man standing there holding the door open for nobody, THEN berated him for his act of chivalry declaring  that they are quite capable of opening a door themselves!!!! Oooh, how I would have loved to have slammed it in their faces, rude and ignorant people!

I am all for equality and feminism  but good  manners have absolutely nothing to do with this whatsoever. I would hold open the door for anybody, regardless of age or sex because it is polite to do so!! I would also hope that someone would do the same for me. I certainly wouldn’t be offended by it…..

Another pet hate of mine are rude shop assistants! Yes I know everybody picks on them. I have worked in shops myself dealing with rude customers, but they are there to do a job, and if they hate interacting with the public, then why on earth work in a shop? The thing that winds me up the most is when I go to pay for something at a checkout in a shop or supermarket, and the shop assistant carries out the entire transaction without even acknowledging my presence! They are still carrying on a conversation with a previous customer/friend/colleague on the next till!!! The only interaction between us is when they hold out their hand for the money, which they snatch off you, before dumping your change in your hand and receipt. You are then dismissed, and they move on to ignore the next poor customer!

I am not keen on Supermarket shopping at the best of times, but I do resent the fact that I am so insignificant,  that the assistant carries on their discussion about their weekend/boyfriend/sex life (in my experience these assistants have all been women). If you DARE to actually talk to them and interrupt their important conversation, you are subjected to a withering look and a bit of huffing and puffing, especially if there is a problem with something!

I think it is very respectful for someone to give up their seat on public transport for an elderly person, or heavily pregnant woman, or anyone that is more deserving. I know I have done it myself, and I would expect my daughter to do it as well. I”m  not out to offend anyone by doing it, I just think it is common courtesy.

I am no lady, and when I get in a rage,can swear and curse with the best of them, but I also believe that in public, it should be toned down a bit! The amount of times I have heard mothers and fathers shouting at the top of their voices in the town centre, something along the lines of ” Come here Johnny, you little shit, before I knock your F**king head off!” I particularly hate it when parents swear directly at children, it just seems very aggressive and unnecessary!

I am pretty lucky that my husband Mr Grump, is pretty chivalrous! When we go shopping he carries all of the bags, regardless of how weighed down he gets, (Bless him, he is only skinny, and I sometimes think he will snap when they are particularly heavy)! I do offer to carry some, but he insists on doing it. This is just the way he has been brought up, If I am cold, and haven’t got a jacket, he will give me his, he opens doors etc, but not just for me. he would do the same for anyone.

As far as I am concerned, if a man wants to act like a gentleman, then I have got no problem with it. To me it just comes under the same umbrella as being kind, courteous and well-mannered, and that costs nothing, but makes a huge difference!

Episode 36: Too Cool For School…… — November 6, 2014

Episode 36: Too Cool For School……

When Miss Hap returned from school yesterday afternoon, I was really annoyed! It had been raining heavily all afternoon,and she came squelching into the house absolutely drenched! To say she looked like a drowned rat was an understatement. Her hair was shedding droplets like a dripping tap, her school blazer sopping wet, and for some reason, she had draped her new dance hoodie around her neck so that was sodden as well!

The reason I was so cross was that she had been warned that it was going to rain, and that she should wear a proper coat to school (with a hood) over her blazer so she wouldn’t get soaked.It is bad enough that I am already ill and feverish, I didn’t want her to become unwell also. What made me so mad was the fact that she would rather get soaked to the skin than wear a coat that is not the right brand,or considered ‘trendy’ enough for her. She once wore her Superdry coat to school (that is the right brand) but it is not really designed to fit over a blazer, jumper plus shirt, and after feeling bunched up and uncomfortable ditched that idea, but still refused to wear the ‘sensible’ school coat….

I am one of six children, and when I was her age I didn’t have a clue about fashion, or brands or anything like that (according to Miss Hap, I still don’t)! I remember when my sister was 11 and I was 13 we had  crimplene jump suits (mine was red and had a little logo on it saying ‘The Fonz is Cool’ (remember him from Happy Days)?! I thought I was the bees knees in that suit, It was nicer than my sister’s which was green and the logo was ‘Mercedes Benz’. Unfortunately even though I am 2 years older than my sister to the day, we were always dressed in matching outfits as children.

Most of our clothes used to come from the Supermarket when, even then it was not cool, and myself and sister were often called the  ‘Tesco Tearaways’ due to where Mum bought most of our clothes from!  Having said that we did have Clarks shoes, which may have been a bit more upmarket but were clumpy, ugly and worst of all ‘sensible’. (Miss Hap has only just stopped wearing them, as even I know it will kill off any street cred at secondary school)! Oh yes, I know all about wearing the ‘wrong’ clothes but I think I was about 15 before it bothered me not 11!

I was talking about this to Mr Grump, as this has been an ongoing issue between us and Miss Hap, as it is not just clothes, it is phones, and the latest games/consoles/laptops and God knows what else. If Miss Hap feels that she has got it rough then she should spare a though for poor old Mr Grump as he was growing up, He also didn’t have a lot when he was young, and his mum struggled to meet ends meet. However, she was a very creative and clever person, and used to knit him things. I roared with laughter though when he told me that his mum had knitted him a pair of swimming trunks,yes SWIMMING TRUNKS!!! As soon as he went into the water with them on, they went all baggy and saggy, and it was a job to keep them on!

Miss Hap is pretty lucky really, All of her school clothes  had to be bought especially because of the logo that is on each item, except for shoes and coat. I still have an old school photo of when I was about 15 with a jumper on, that my mum had knitted and I’m smiling!!!

Episode 34: Unexpected Praise…. — November 4, 2014

Episode 34: Unexpected Praise….

Isn’t it strange that sometimes a compliment can make you feel really awful!…I am a person that likes to get things done, if I have got a job to do then i am going to do my utmost to get it done,, and also do it to the best of my ability…

However, life does it’s best to throw a spanner in the works whenever it can. Working with people is at best unpredictable and at worst chaotic, means that even with the best intentions in the world, things often end up going pear-shaped regardless of how hard you try.Today was one of those days….

I was working in my usual Bay looking after 6 ladies with a newly qualified nurse. Half of our patients were due to have various procedures which involved them leaving  the ward, so we wanted to try to get them washed and ready first. Breakfast was late arriving, and drugs took a while, so were slightly late in starting washing the patients. Unfortunately my colleague had got embroiled in a complicated fight between relatives of one of our patients… It was all to do with a lot of money the patient had brought into hospital with her; it involved the Police, Adult Protection, a wife-beating husband (who looked the picture of innocence sitting in his wheelchair), and conniving relatives, who all turned up at the same time. I didn’t know who was who, but had been told to limit the visitors to two at a time. Great, I didn’t know who the bad guys were!

Still as my workmate had now gone off to try to untangle this mess,I was left to get on with looking after the rest of the patients…I ended up spending a good 4 hours of my shift on my own trying to cater to everything my patient’s needed, as well as carry out other tasks that had to be done as part of my job…

I was starting to get a bit frazzled, as other relatives had turned up (It was still nowhere near visiting hours) demanding to know things like,where the bag was that Aunty Mabel had brought in, and why weren’t  they told their relative had a blood transfusion?(she hadn’t, Aunty Mabel told them she had for some reason). I did my best to answer their questions, but at the same time wanted to continue to try and wash the poor patients that were still waiting, and I was being distracted,

One of my ladies went off for her procedure in a wheelchair, and I was able to get on with helping the lady opposite to have her wash. As I appeared from behind the curtain, I was appalled to see a female patient from the next bay asleep in the freshly vacated bed opposite! I gently woke her up and escorted her back to her own bed, much to the amusement of the visitors!

I stuck my head in our handover room to get a quick swig of my cold coffee, and had a bit of a moan to some colleagues that were in there writing notes. However, as soon as I returned to my bay, I breezed in cheerfully and carried out with my duties. That set the tone for the rest of the shift really, getting further and further behind,and feeling frustrated because of it, Just before I finished, I had to carry out an unpleasant procedure on the patient with the relatives and the ‘Aunty Mabel.’The daughter had gone but her granddaughter waited outside whilst I did it. I explained to the patient what I was going to do and made her comfortable, and it went off without a hitch. As I came out from behind the curtain, her granddaughter said to me, ” you are such a cheerful person, I really wish all nurses were like you” …

I felt absolutely awful. I had been moaning to all and sundry every chance I got, because I had been left on my own so much, and was still washing patients after lunch, not to mention behind on all my other jobs, yet this relative had praised me for being so chirpy! Although I would never dream of being miserable in front of the patients, (they have got enough to worry about as it is) I did have a face like a smacked arse (a Miss Hap special) the rest of the time! I felt a right hypocrite!!

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