Tuesday, February 9, 2016

The Temptation Trap

I was bored last night and went for a surf on Amazon. And, by chance, I fell upon a unique item.

A life-size cardboard cut-out of Tom Cruise!

Now me and Tom have had a bit of a thing going on over the duration of this blog. I don't know why - I don't even fancy him. It's just some folks tickle the comedian in me and Tom happens to be one of them.

Yeah, so even though I tried to restrain myself I eventually succumbed to the temptation to leave a review. (Admittedly I didn't try too hard to resist -I am just too shallow.)

Now I know I've failed as a human being and will be damned in the fires of hell for being so cruel but, on the plus side, I'll finally get to meet Tom whilst I'm there because I'm fairly sure that believing in little green men is not okay with Him Upstairs either. We'll be able to hang-out together and he'll be able to regale me with tales of Mission Impossible retakes and how he missed out on a role in Tom Thumb to Danny Devito.


Anyway here's my review:

Short but succinct. Like Tom.

Monday, February 8, 2016

Pronunciation please, Jason!

For an old(ish) gal, I'm still a bit of a pop babe which is why Want To Want Me by Jason Derulo is one of my songs of the moment.

However, I've had a bit of a problem with it. For a while, I was convinced that the first six lines of the lyrics were:

It's too hard to sleep
I got the shits on the floor
Nothing on me
And I can't take it no more

It's a hundred degrees
I got one foot out the door
Where are my keys?
'Cause I gotta leave, yeah

I'll be honest this situation rings quite a few bells with me. And I don't blame him for wanting to get out of his house if he's had the shits and it's a hundred degrees. I have a problem with the shits at normal room temperature.

Also, what normal person wants to sing about having the shits? 

Oh, okay, I wrote about having the shits.  Maybe folks do want to sing about it too.

Hmm... maybe that's what Bridge Over Troubled Waters is about?

Anyway, eventually I realised it's not the "shits" Jason is singing about but "sheets."

I was bit disappointed really. I was beginning to think Jason was a music rebel - turns out he was singing yet another love song. Humph.

Well here's Jason singing Want to Want Me. It's a great funky song and he's a pretty cool dancer so it's great entertainment. I wasn't quite so keen about the young lady sticking her butt in the air all the time like a meerkat on heat though. Give me Dame Shirley Bassey in a full-length gown any day. Now that's what I call classy.

Sunday, February 7, 2016

Yet another embarrassing moment for Mrs T

I've recounted a few embarrassing moments on this blog so it may come as no surprise to hear that I've had yet another...

So the other day Mr T dropped me into our local town and arranged to pick me up a short while later outside the library after he had picked up Master Jacob from school. I duly did my shopping and rushed back to the library to see Mr T and Master Jacob parked in our silver-coloured car outside the library as agreed.

I waved at them and rushed into the library to drop off a book and dashed back so not to keep them waiting any longer. However, when I came out, to my annoyance, Mr T was already reversing out of the space. (A few choice words about impatient husbands may have crossed my mind.)

I duly ran over to our car, opened the door and was in the process of hauling my arse into the back seat when a voice piped up;

"Not this car, love."

Yes. That's right. I got into the wrong car. Fortunately, the two blokes in it thought it was very funny and had a good laugh at my expense.

I felt a bit of an arse though. And I had to take back all those naughty thoughts I'd had about Mr T.

Bah humbug.

Thursday, January 21, 2016

A Second Night of Insomnia

I am on my second night of insomnia in a row. Now long term readers will know that I go in phases with my insomnia and have frequently posted in the middle of the night. (When I've got fed up reading The Daily Mail.) However, my insomnia hasn't been too bad for a while but the last two nights it has come back with a vengeance and tonight I also can't stop sneezing for no apparent reason and instead of reading The Daily Mail I have been forced to run numerous virus checks on my PC because of a potential threat. As we say in the UK:

It never rains but it pours.

So no doubt tomorrow I will get run over by a bus.

I just pray to God that this perimenopausal phase I am in doesn't prevent me from forgetting to change my knickers as if I am going to die, I want to die wearing clean undies.

Mind you, if I get splattered by a bus it probably wouldn't matter too much: I guess it would be kinda messy.

Well, that's a happy thought for 4 am in the morning. Truly. I don't have to worry now if, in my mad perimenopausal state, I forget to change my knickers and get run over by a bus. You see you can find a positive side of things if you want to.

Now you may be wondering what I have been doing lately. I have been wondering this myself. The life of a Housewife Extraordinaire/tennis mum/author is somewhat peculiar. This has all been complicated by the fact that the good Mr T has been out of work since last May which has rather interrupted my daily routines of doing just what the hell I like.

If there is a God, I pray he releases me from the agony of the Good Mr T invading my kitchen. A job for him too would be pretty good but, most importantly, I need him the hell out of my kitchen. In the last two days he has sliced up his finger with a one of those razor sharp vegetable slicers and (worse) served up LIVER to the kids.

They were not impressed. Luckily, I avoided the liver as I am on a diet so eating my own concoctions. (Which don't involve liver in way, shape or form.)

In fact, my diet is a particularly awewsome one which allows me to have chocolate when stressed.

So not much of  a diet really. But hey it's the thought that counts!

So what news do I have apart from the one that I am being driven close to insanity. Well, I am editing a book at the moment. It is my first "official" edit. Obviously, my edit won't include proofreading as most of you will know that where grammar is concerned (especially on this blog) it is not a top priority. Quite bizarrely, having done a few beta reads (that sort of morphed into edits) I think editing is something I am really rather good at. (Which makes a change.) What's more, this book I am editing is really rather unique. In all likelihood, it's going to be totally different to anything you've read before. It is going to be very interesting indeed to see the reaction to it.

Anyway, it's 5 am now so I am going to have some breakfast and see if I can lull myself into sleep with some carbs. If I am lucky I won't dream about the no 72 bus.

Sunday, January 3, 2016

New Year, New Me

Thank goodness last year is over. It was not one of my best. (And that's putting it mildly.) I've also a feeling that the rotten phase I'm in at the moment has not yet reached its nadir. Humph. However, as you know, I don't like to whinge too much so instead of an in-depth, knee-deep whinge I shall simply sum up my present state of mind and my 2015 with the picture below.

Okay so as 2015 didn't go all that well for me, I think it's important I start 2016 in a positive mindset.

So my positive mindset begins with the news my short story Fantasia is free (yes FREE!) on Amazon Kindle until the 6th January and, at the time of posting this blog, it is 379 in the US Kindle free charts and no 1 in two children's categories. They are only small categories but, nevertheless, I am pretty pleased as Fantasia is only a short unillustrated story. You can pick up a free copy HERE.

Right, so my diet starts tomorrow. The boys are back at school on Tuesday when I also start my new yoga class.

Roll on 2016.

Saturday, December 5, 2015

Inspirational Music and Books

Since we're on a countdown to Christmas I am throwing into the mix some of my favourite songs and books of the year. The first song is Let It Go by James Bay who is from Hitchin in the UK. Hitchin is a place I travel through quite often so it's rather a nice surprise to discover that such fine musical talent is emerging from somewhere which I have only ever thought of as a thoroughfare.

My first book choice is a contemporary comedy set in the UK and New York about a underachieving British thirty-something man who gets drawn into a bizarre competition, requiring him to run the NY marathon, in order to win a place on a trip to the moon. There are some real laugh-out-loud moments in 26 Miles to the Moon, particularly in the early chapters. I think it would especially appeal to male readers looking for something a little different and to those who are interested in competitive sports. It's not often I come across a contemporary comedy striving to be a little different so kudos to the author, Andrew Males, for daring to be different.

26 Miles to the Moon: The Great Space Race Is On!
Bored of your life? Find some inspiration in 26 Miles to the Moon.

Thursday, December 3, 2015

Inspirational quotes or just bullshit?

I was reading an article in the Daily Mail today about a Canadian study which suggested that people who post lots of inspirational quotes and messages on social media might have less cognitive abilities. The study also suggested that many of these inspirational messages may be just pure meaningless bullshit. In other words - gullible people are prey to believing in any old crap.

This may or may not be true. I am not casting any judgement. (Yet.) However, I thought I'd conduct my own experiment and make up a few inspirational messages of my own and post them on social media and see what effect they have. I'll be reporting back in due course.

Here's my first inspirational message. I'll be testing it out tomorrow.

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

A Lesson for The Housewife Extraordinaire

As you all know I am a Housewife Extraordinaire. Essentially, this means I'm an expert at household cleaning. However, since Young Sam returned home (bringing the total number of males in the household back to four) and I acquired a new pussy cat called Shand The Shitter (the name is self-explanatory) I have been struggling with my excessive cleaning duties.

Therefore, I decided that in order to improve on my cleaning skills I needed to take a household cleaning refresher course. I found exactly what I needed on YouTube. I am now feeling far more comfortable about my cleaning abilities - I know exactly what I am going to do the next time I need to unblock the loo or find a stack of unwashed dishes left by the sink!

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

I'm not a celebrity, but I know how to become one!

So one of the reasons I've been silent is I have become to addicted to the TV show I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out of Here! I've occasionally dipped into it over the years, but this year I've become intrigued by it due to the presence of the indomitable Lady C, otherwise known as Lady Colin Campbell.

Yep, I've become fascinated by Lady C and her epic rants which make Hitler's tirades look amateurish. The bizarre thing is that by being completely rude and obnoxious Lady C is getting loads of publicity which seems a tad unfair on the other celebs who are far more polite.

But there is a lesson to be learnt from Lady C and I've worked it out...

If I turn myself into a vile, ranting witch I will get way more visibility for my books!

However, I have a problem: How do I make myself as mean and nasty as Lady C when I'm such a fluffy bunny rabbit type of person?

I finally figured it out today that there is only one method - I must inflict on myself the ultimate torture. A torture so severe that all the suffering I will endure will turn me into a bad-tempered, vile, monstrous creature and, therefore, propel me to celebrity superstardom.

What is this torture?

I think most women out there will know what it is...

I must shave off all my pubic hair and suffer the pain of spiky regrowth. 

Pubic hair re-growth - guaranteed to make any sane women insane.

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Thoughts on Book Clubs and Women's Fiction

For many years I’ve been a member of a ladies’ book club. We’re all middle-aged with one or more aspects of our lives in common: teenagers or young adult children, jobs varying in pressures and fulfilment, husbands facing redundancy or career changes, and increasing responsibilities for our parents. At the same time, we're also facing the joint onslaughts of the loss of youth and age-related health problems. We’re a strong, supportive group with individual and yet universal problems that unite us beyond our mutual love of books. Our meetings are filled with lively, vocal discussions that sometimes go on until the early hours of the morning on just about any topic.

Except the books that brought us together in the first place.

It’s not that we never discuss our chosen books; it’s just that we so rarely discover a book that all of us have read and enjoyed to the very end that it warrants discussing it for any length of time. And forcing ourselves to read a novel to impress or to satisfy some quasi-intellectual need isn't necessary: We know each other too well. So, by the time we’ve got past the excuses: “I was too exhausted to read it,” (any lengthy literary novel); “It was too depressing,” (any novel featuring a child killer); “It was so predictable I watched a rerun of The Professionals instead," (any book with “teashop” in the title); and “How did this get on the Man Booker shortlist? My navel fluff is more interesting,” usually we're left with very few books that meet all our expectations.

Now I don’t want to make my friends sound uneducated or overly fussy because they’re neither. We have occasionally talked at length about some great books: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian, The Help and so on. But what these particular books have in common, despite their literary statuses, is that they're easy to pick up and put down but are still absorbing enough to be entertaining and informative.

There is, of course, a lot of “women’s fiction” that is worthy of discussion which never grabs the headlines like the more literary novels. Anything by Jodi Picoult ticks that box, as would undercover successes like The Memory Book or Me Before You. These are the type of books that many women enjoy. They're books which don't require a degree or in-depth analysis to appreciate. They're emotive, engaging and frequently explore situations or moral dilemmas that create food for thought and conversation. To women with busy, exhausting lives these easy-to-read but captivating books are a gift because, after a harrowing day, not many of us want to face the challenges of Hilary Mantel or David Mitchell.

It was with these thoughts that I set about writing The Changing Room. But I also wanted to factor in one further element and write not just an easy-to-read and thought-provoking novel that would be appreciated by the ladies of my book club, but a humorous one. It would have an older heroine that readers would empathise with but who also did things they’ve wanted to do but haven’t quite had the courage or opportunity. A woman who would make them laugh and cry and, hopefully, inspire them.

I'm not sure why there is so little meaningful comedy fiction available for older women, but certainly finding any agent or publisher actively looking for any humorous writing that isn't a Christmas coffee table book, chick lit or dry literary humour is like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. Nevertheless, I was determined that it shouldn’t just be girls or academics who have fun in literature, but mature women too.

And so I created 45-year-old Sandy Lovett: mother, wife, carer and sex-chat expert. A resilient woman with a sense of humour and a strong moral, social and political conscience who was changing direction in her life.  A woman, I hoped, whose character and story would appeal to the ladies of my book club long enough to make it through several bottles of wine and a selection of exotic nuts.

Only time will tell if I have succeeded in my mission. But whatever the reception for Sandy Lovett, I will always hold the same affection for her as I do my book club ladies. All of them ordinary women, just like you and me, living their own extraordinary lives.

This article originally appeared on Random Things Through My Letterbox .

Friday, October 23, 2015

When the simplest things go wrong

Sometimes I wonder if I am cursed as it seems even the simplest things go wrong for me. Take for example, the last 36 hours...

I am the tennis centre working and I get some unfortunate news about one of the boys' tennis coaches which requires my contemplation. Whilst I am contemplating, I get an email from my publicist which is good news but requires my immediate attention. My brain is busy whirring over these two issues so when I get home at about 8.30 pm I discover I have left my handbag at the tennis centre. I ring the tennis centre and luckily they are able to locate it but I am not sure if all the contents are all there. I decide because I've only "lost" it for an hour and it was in the same place I left it that I'm going to trust to luck and honesty that all my essentials are still in my bag and collect it the next day as I've already done 5 hours driving and I'm knackered.

Initial trauma over, I go back to dealing with the publicist enquiry. At 11.30 pm I go to bed. I get up early the next morning, do a little more work and then attempt to get the boys off to school on the bus at 8am. I am exceptionally pleased with myself that after visiting my MP a place on the school bus has miraculously appeared for Master Jacob so I don't have to do the school run and can press on with my work earlier than usual. So the usual frantic pre-school checks begin. I tell Master Jacob to take money from his own wallet as he has overnight school trip and my handbag is still an hour away. I see him take it out of his wallet. Great. Master Ben packs his PE kit. Great. They both get out the door (late) but they don’t come back. Great.

I am free! I sit down to continue my work and...

The phone rings. I hear Master Ben's voice. The phone cuts off. It rings again. Garbled teenage talk. I try to make sense of it but I'd have more luck deciphering the Enigma code. The phone cuts off again. My anxiety starts to rise. I decide to ring back. Master Ben answers. There's more teenage garble and phone interference. I finally work out (whilst my blood pressure is rising) that he has left his PE kit on the sofa and Master Jacob has forgotten his money. By this time I am shouting:


The phone cuts off again.

So far I have deduced that Master Ben doesn't need his kit till lunchtime. However, then I realise that Master Jacob will need his money before he sets off on his trip at 9.00am and it is already 8.35am. We live approximately 12 mins by car from school travelling at 60 mph for approximately 10 of those minutes. In normal hours. At rush hour that journey can easily take 35 minutes. 

I am about to spontaneously combust. The side effect of this near and very vocal combustion is that Mr T, who is off work, decides he will get up and see what is going on. In the interests of road safety, I give him the football kit and extra money from Jacob's wallet (as I have no idea where Master Jacob has left the original money) and send Mr T off to school.

I decide to chill for five minutes before resuming work. I make a cup of tea and check up on the listing of my children's story Fantasia on the professional review service NetGalley which I have been told will go live that morning. I follow the link the administrator has sent me to its page and see it listed. The cover looks great and has already got 8 "likes". I read through the blurb I'd sent just to check all it as it should be. It reads fine. However, when I get to the bit that says "Advance Praise"  I read this:

Advance Praise

"I don't have any reviews for this book, Kellie. However, I've seen some traditional publishers just pick out general praise for the author in these circumstances So I've done that. If you can beat 'em join them!"

Yep.The admin has just copied and pasted. So everyone knows that the following three (awesome) comments I have listed have been selected by myself.


Eventually I decide that my 8 "likes" are either sympathy votes or a reward for supreme navel gazing. I contemplate a) murder b) spontaneous combustion (again) c) toast heavily laden with butter

I opt for c). Only because I haven't got a shotgun.

Mr T comes home. I ask him whether Jacob has any idea where he left his money as I still can't find it.

Mr T informs me that Master Ben was just joking about that. Master Jacob had his money all the time!

I butter some more toast.

* * * * * *

So today is a new day. I have my handbag safe (complete with contents). Master Ben has gone to school. Master Jacob is still on his trip. Master Sam and Mr T are still in bed. All is quiet. I have just made my tea and checked my netgalley listing to see if the adminstrator has acted on the email I sent her regarding the faux-pas.

She hasn't.

I am going to butter some more toast.

Friday, October 16, 2015

Gransnet and a new experiment from Mrs T

I am on Granset this week espousing on one of my favourite subjects: The Problem With Plumbers. Do pop over and give it a social share or leave a comment if you enjoy it.

This week I have also been busy working on my book promotion and I have taken time out to make a video for my book.

I am also currently putting a few articles together and I'm looking for anyone who has had some bad/funny (or even good!) changing room experiences. So if your knickers have fallen down in public, or you've lost your child while you were trying on a bathing suit in M & S, or you split some trousers and put them back on the rail then I want to know!  Please leave a comment or email me at jane@sweetandsaltybooks.net. You could be immortalized in one of my articles!

*So long as you promise not to sue me*

Monday, October 12, 2015

New Release: Fantasia

Those of you who have read my short story collection for adults, A Modern Life, you may have read my short story, Fantasia.  It was different from the other stories in my collection in that it was a universal story whereas the others were what I considered to be "adult" fiction. (Yes there was even some sex in A Modern Life.)

Yes, I know - shocking! Who would have thought the mild-mannered Mrs T would write about sex?

Ho hum.

Anyhow, I really wrote Fantasia as an educational story for children as a way of discussing climate change and the social responsibility we all have to each other and to our environment. (Alongside the fact that I'm just a big kid and like writing silly stuff.)

Well, at long last, I've finally got around to publishing Fantasia as a separate entity so it can reach its intended audience. Currently, it's just as an eBook on Amazon but long-term I'd like to make it into an illustrated book if there's enough interest. I also have plans for two more children's books. One is a story that I made up to entertain my eldest son in the car when he was feeling travel sick and the other is a recent story that came to mind when I wrote about Johnny Potato VC during the April A to Z blog challenge. Both these books will also have to be long-term projects because illustrated books cost a serious amount of money to produce.

Now Fantasia is finished, my next project will be The Very Best of The Witty Ways of a Wayward Wife where you will be able to read the best (or worst) of this blog in book format edited and proof read. Yep - you'll finally be able to read one of my blog posts without the obligatory typos. I originally intended to publish The Very Best of  The Witty Ways Wayward Wife late last year, but I had a rather nasty health scare which, fortunately, turned out to non-life threatening but meant that I shelved the project and have been somewhat preoccupied with my health this year. It's time though to get back to writing and editing. Life is short and I still have a lot more to do!

So I leave you with Fantasia. It's on Amazon for 99p/99c or free if you're a member of  Kindle Unlimited. However, if any of you would like a copy for your kindle to inflict on your children, grandchildren or on yourselves please email me at jane@sweetandsaltybooks.net and I'll send you one. In return, a few words, good or bad, would be welcome on Amazon.

The year is 2031 and Walt Disney, suspended in cryogenic suspension since 1966, has been brought back to life by Dr Corey, a scientist researching brain function for the purpose of suspending life for space travel. But Dr Corey gets more than he bargained for when Walt awakens. Opinionated, arrogant and still in love with films, Walt is overawed when he discovers what has happened to the world in the intervening years: films are a whole-body experience, all human organs except the brain are replaceable and research is underway to preserve life so mankind can reach the outer edges of the universe.

But what affects Walt most is the shocking news that the world is being affected by catastrophic climate change...

Sunday, October 11, 2015

A Fashion Rant and My Design for Rick Owen

Yes, it's time for my annual fashion rant. Hoist up the bridges, affix your armour and be prepared to do battle with a host of Mrs T's anti-fashion hyperbole and rhetoric.

Now, as usual, I manage to keep calm about the catwalk most of the time (even though most of the designers are clearly bonkers) until I see an outfit that is truly horrendous and my fashion steam gauge goes ballistic.

This happened a few days ago when I saw these pictures from designer Rick Owen's exhibition at the Paris fashion show. If you feel you can suffer the video footage the YouTube clip is below.

Now I've looked at this video several times. Apparently, the concept of female models carrying other female models is meant to be meaningful and saying something sincere about The Sisterhood. ( etc etc.)

Give me a break! I can read about that sort of feminist claptrap in The Guardian. But at least when I'm reading their diatribes I'm not vomiting over my keyboard.

Now it's not that I have anything against the idea of  The Sisterhood - I mean us girls having been watching each other's backs for years and many of us have been forced to wear sacks and babies on our backs since the beginning of civilization. So what we don't need is some overpaid, pretentious male fashion designer thinking he's saying something new and profound about The Sisterhood whilst his models have the indignity of having each other's backsides in their faces. Because, Mr Owens, us women already know what being a woman is all about and the difficulties we've faced and continue to face all over the world.

Also, Mr "Fashion" Designer, we don't want to see these poor women further humiliated wearing ugly, overpriced, ludicrous, not fit-for-purpose hideous carbuncles of clothing which are falsely masquerading as "fashion."

God, I am enjoying this rhetoric. I should have been a speech writer. If anyone out there needs one, I'm available for hire. Furthermore, you can get me for a reduced rate if you supply me with a selection of this season's designs from Marks and Spencers.

Now, I don't want you folks to think I haven't considered these designs seriously. I have. I also considered them alongside Rick Owens earlier fashion show which had men wearing designs with peepholes in them so you could see their assets.

Glorious. Just the sort of outfits I want to see when I'm picking up my kids from school or a loaf from the bakery.

Now we've all heard the argument that designs like these are just trend setters and when they translate into high street fashions they're more conservative.

So, in other words - the "women carrying other women" concept will become a very small backpack. Made of hessian. However, in Top Shop it will have sparkly bits stuck on it and a machine-stitched patch that says "Love Me, Love My Bag."

Joy. I so need one of those. I must ask Mr T to get me one for Christmas.

And the men's peephole garments will turn into...um.... um...ordinary trousers. Because anything else with a hole in it below the waist will result in being charged for public indecency.

So basically, the original designs don't translate into anything remotely similar and all this silly stuff on the catwalk is just exhibitionist, pretentious, arty-farty, egotistical fashion gibberish.

Rant over.

Anyhow, because it's a Saturday night and I'm in an artistic mood (and have nothing better to do) I've designed my own outfit especially for Rick Owens using his "peephole" concept. Imaginatively, I've called it "Man Wearing Romper Suit.". I am showing the "below-the-waist" rear view. Hopefully, Rick will wear it at his next show.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

One Small Moment, One Big Tear

There are few words I can say to express my joy at having finally receiving my first press review for The Changing Room.

So far The Changing Room has been wallowing in obscurity. I am certainly not foolish enough to believe one review will alter its future but, for a brief moment in time, it gave me a deep satisfaction to know that for at least for one professional reviewer my story worked. In fact, I couldn't have asked for a better review and it's true to say a tear of joy ran down my cheek. It is only one brief moment, but for me it will be a memorable one.

The review is now circulating up North in the UK and so far appeared it has appeared in the Lancaster Evening Post, The Blackpool Gazette, St Helen's The Reporter and the Yorkshire Evening Post.

You can read it HERE.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Daily Challenges

I am on Shaz's book blog today doing a Question and Answer session.

I amazed myself by actually giving sensible answers. Well mostly sensible ones - a few rogue answers may have slipped through the net.

In other news, I have been having a fairly traumatic time of late. Luckily, this has not been open heart surgery. However, yesterday it consisted of blocking the sink, spilling caustic sink unblocker over my trousers and visiting my MP to let off some steam about a) Britain's overlooked children in the state school system and b) the lack of school transport which now requires me to do the school run twice a day again. Ugh.

On the plus side, a) I made a lasagna which I didn't burn (too much) and b) the cover for my children's short story Fantasia arrived. More about that soon.

Now I feel I should end this very short post with a Justin Bieber song now I am an official fan. However, I think I'll go for something even more (dis)tasteful and get you in the mood for Christmas.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Female First

You can find me on Female First today with my Top Ten Things I Want My Readers to Know About Me

And yes, I did steal a few one-liners from my blog and drop them in amongst the new stuff. Time was of the essence.

You know I've discovered the pressure of being an almost celebrity is enormous.

Although, sadly, I still have to make my own lunch.

Bah humbug.

Right, now I'm off to do some more work.

*Runs bath water*

Monday, September 28, 2015

My World Comes Crashing Down

Oh. Dear.God. I've had the most horrible day. I am in terrible despair and must call into question my whole outlook on life.

Now I know, readers, that you will be concerned about poor Mrs T and curious to find out what has brought her to the edge of the insanity. So let me now regale you with the tragic event which has been the source of my misery and which happened this very afternoon...

Mrs T (moi) is having a bit of a jig to an unknown but rather catchy tune at the service counter in the restaurant at the tennis centre.

"Who is this?" says Mrs T the to the gentleman making her tea.

A flash of  horror passes across his face as he plops Mrs T on the counter.

"Justin Bieber," he replies.

And so, dear readers, my world came crashing down.

It's official. Mrs T has lost all her musical taste.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Why I Love Being British

I love being British. There's a lot of rubbish that's said about us but frankly I wouldn't want to live anywhere but in ol' Blighty.

Because we have stories like these.

Now I know I shouldn't laugh, as potentially this could have been very serious, but I'm afraid I am.

Other countries have wars, terrorists and mass murderers - we have a lone ginger-haired guy who wants to shoot Prince Charles and put red-haired Harry on the throne.

If that idea wasn't funny enough, this fella's reading material consisted of:“The Terrorist Handbook,” “The Complete Improvised Kitchen”, “The Jolly Roger Cookbook,” “Assorted Nasties,” “Silent Death” and “The Poor Man’s James Bond.”

Oh God. I fear I may never stop laughing.

There's a story in this story. It might just have to be me who writes it.

"The Ginger Who Would be King."

Oh lord, this is too much entertainment for a Wednesday afternoon. I do hope this poor man gets the help he needs.

It's not the hair colour that worries me. It's the haircut.
 And the vest. Especially the vest.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Do men ever grow up?

I am interrupting my lunch to report on this important article at The Daily Mail.

Now if you can't be bothered to read it, I'll summarize. Apparently some dating guru did some research and came up with this astounding theory:

Men of all ages like young women best. Preferably about 20 years old.

No, really? You could knock me down with a feather.

This dating guru also put his research results into graph format and gave a lecture on it.


What the *uck?

I feel sorry for him. Pity the PhD in philosophy or atomic structure didn't work out. But a hey a job' s a job! 

Anyway, I need a job so I reckon if I stick some really obvious crap onto a graph and get myself a microphone and a couple of speaking gigs I could make a fast buck too.

I'll start with a comparison of the two graphs below.

Ps. I should add that I love men. Just not the stupid ones.