Showing posts from January, 2008

To Cook or Not to Cook? That is the question. Oh - and bottoms. (Just because I felt like it.)

Some women love cooking. They live and breathe cooking. They have shelf upon shelf of cook books; basic, speciality, charity and, of course, the celebrity-chef cook book. They have glorious kitchens filled with dozens of gleaming pots and pans, rows of aromatic spices and cupboards full of exotic ingredients. (I prefer eroticingredients like chocolate, strawberries and clotted cream. You’ve seen 9½ weeks haven’t you? (Hey, I may be approaching the Knackers Yard but I can still fantasize you know…)Let me assure you there is nothing “gleaming” about my kitchen; it’s a godforsaken place where even the living dead fear to tread. I’ve also only got two cook books; that’s all and frankly that’s enough. One book was given to me by my mother in law. (Possibly as a hint that her son required some nutrition in order to remain alive.) The second I bought myself for a pittance. Whilst I happily waste Mr Turley's hard earned cash on books of almost any description I draw the line at cook books…

Capital Crusader.

A Novel in Progress She would die.
He had been watching her for the last few weeks. She was predictable. Every time taking the same path, that led to the seat at the top of the incline overlooking the pallid lake below. The path ran between two grass verges which were littered with decaying ochre leaves. A sudden thud made him quickly glance to his side, but it was only a lustrous conker, newly fallen; the last solitary fruit of autumn.
He moved stealthily forwards. The ground was damp and the dank leaves did not crackle underfoot; his polished patent shoes out of place in this earthy, natural environment.He could see her more clearly now. The collar of her suede coat upturned against the enveloping chill. Her long auburn hair draped around her shoulders, blending with the copper tones of the early morning sun that filtered through the ravaged trees. Her face was tilted upwards, lost in the languid rays. A hand rested lightly on the pram, which was at an angle so that it could not roll d…

A Short History of Alzheimers in English. (Dementia and lying but fortunately no tractors.)

Let me tell you about Alzheimers.
Let me tell you about Alzheimers.
Let me tell you about Alzheimers.

Yep, you may have worked it out by now that people with Alzheimers tend to repeat themselves. This is something I never do.

UNLESS I’m drunk or I’ve forgotten what I’ve said and to whom. Unfortunately, as a mad, premenopausal woman close to insanity repeating myself is something that is becoming more frequent, is becoming more frequent. The worse case scenario is of course when I’m drunk AND I‘ve forgotten what I’ve said and to whom; my brain is then working on a level of stupidity comparable to Mr Bush’s; a potentially very dangerous and catastrophic situation indeed.

Anyway here’s a useful tip to avoid embarrassing fallout from such situations… Never Lie… or there is a distinct possibility you will be caught out.

On the whole lying is not good. Although there are times in life when a little white lie is acceptable. For example “I only had one piece of chocolate,” is an acceptable lie; it …

Book Review; The Undomesticated Goddess by Sophie Kinsella

This book is one of the biggest loads of tosh I have ever surpasses A Devil Wears Prada and that's saying something. Now, I have actually read 2 of Sophie Kinsella's novels..her first Shopaholic was at times mildy amusing..the second I can't remember at all...pretty much says it all... (By the way they were given to me..I didn't actually buy them.. I don't want my reputation as a chick lit hater ruined) But it looks like Miss Kinsella has just run out of ideas.. a top notch lawyer believes she's made a terrible mistake..goes into some sort of a trance, takes the first train she sees, gets off, wanders around ends up at a house where they think she comes for a position as housekeeper and ends up shagging the gardener.... I'm sorry but it was truly wasn't funny and was on a par with the worst of Mills and Boon. I fail to believe that any woman who has fought her way through law school could be so inherently stupid.. doesn'…

Hotels, sausages and funerals. (Yep, I know it's weird but I've never pretended to be normal.)

Well this year I've had two encounters with Hotels. One of them was in Weston Super Mare, an English coastal resort and the birth place of the comedian John Cleese of Monty Python fame and where this writer originates (which may explain my peculiar type of British madness.) It’s also the home of the infamous writer, ex politician and dubious businessman Jeffrey Archer (who with a cane I will ably whip for bringing the name of this once great Victorian seaside resort into disrepute with his lying and cheatin’ ways.) Fortuitously, I bear no resemblance to Lord Archer whatsoever. In fact the only cheating I've done was in a German test when I was 14. (I still got a crap result.) However, I've noted that odd people come from Weston… In fact I would go so far as to say\;

There’s something in the air
In Weston Super Mare
Who knows what it is
But it frequently smells of piss

And if you've ever been to Weston you’ll know exactly what I mean.

Anyway, I react badly to Hotels. Here’s…

Ssh...I'm going to tell you a secret...(looks around furtively) mustn't tell anyone...but... I LOVE CHOCOLATE.

Yes, it’s 9 days since I gave up chocolate and the withdrawal symptoms are beginning to kick in. I’m feeling slightly crazed and like I could snap at any moment. (Although not without the use of a chainsaw to break through the first few layers of insulation.) I’ve sharpened the blades of my kitchen knives and I’ve started digging a new patio… ….because I’m a woman living on the edge…

I’m even dreaming about chocolate…

In fact do you remember the Milk Tray advert where the man dressed in black does daring deeds in order to place the box of chocolates on the woman’s pillow? Well I keep having similar dream versions of that; a gorgeous man, dressed in black leather sprints like a stallion across fields, leaps across roof tops until finally he stands poised on my balcony. I’m lying on my bed, hair tousled, lips moist, salivating at the thought of the delicious chocolate inside the box which glints enticingly in the moonlight. The mysterious man flings open the window… my heart is beating, m…

Life and language; a personal story.

"The limits of my language mean the limits of my world." Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico Philosophicus 1922
Every individual has their own story; a history that makes them who they are. The personal history of our language development is an important factor in the way we evolve as individuals; how we perceive ourselves and how people perceive us. The truth is we all make judgements about people when they speak; variety, lexis and register all subconsciously affect our opinions of people. Sometimes these opinions can be subjective, particularly when style is valued over content.

To examine the way in which an individual’s language develops we must go back to the beginning, even before birth, because it is the language and nurturing of our parents, influenced by their own social and cultural backgrounds, which determines the course of our language development in early childhood.

My own language was heavily influenced by my parents. My mother spoke Standard English with Recei…

Book Review; Five on a Hike Together by Enid Blyton

Gee whizz what a smashing, rip roaring read; my favourite Famous Five adventure. Now it's about 35 years since I read it, but here's the basic plot; Julian, Dick, Anne, George and their affectionate mutt Timmy go hiking. There's a tent, a criminal, some potted shrimp, crusty bread and some ginger Beer; mix these ingredient together and you get a rather messy camp site surrounded my maraudering cats and Jeffrey Archer looking for a plot for his next book. Excellent stuff. And why hasn't it had a resurgence in popularity? 'Cos George's character is very PC these days you know.. infact it's a wonder it isn't actively promoted in schools. By the way have you read Noddy? What a greedy, selfish, sixpence- grabbing boy. Just because he wears a silly hat and has an amusing head wobbling disorder doesn't mean he makes a great read. Enid must have been having a bad day; maybe some kids had thrown their ginger beer bottles on her lawn.....

© Jane Turley 2008

Book Review; The Story of The Little Mole Who Knew It Was None of His Business by Werner Holzwarth

A crap read... literally... this book is all about animal excrement.. and I assure you, your children will absolutely love it (as all children are fascinated with doggy doo doos and such like.) You will instantly go up in your child's estimation if you give them this book and what's more if you can do some animal impressions in a squatting position you'll be in line for an Oscar. Only slight concern.. it seems to have been written by a German (who as we know have no sense of humour) although they're particularly fond of frankfurters of which there are a number of in this book......

© Jane Turley 2008

Oh God, it's nearly time for...( tense Hitchcock music plays dramatically)...The School Run.

I hate The School Run. It’s a wicked and cruel device inflicted by men who mainly drive to work ON THEIR OWN in their clean cars with relaxing music playing and pleasantly humming. Whereas us women are frequently left in such a state that we have to consume entire bars of chocolate on our return or in my case not able to do the housework until about 30 minutes before hubby comes home because I’m so stressed out. (Or possibly both….he… he…he) Of course I’m seriously worried about tomorrow when The Run begins again as I’ve given up chocolate as part of my New Year Resolutions… what am I to do? I may have to watch one of those abominable morning chat shows where some idiot admits having an incestuous affair with his sibling and doesn’t understand why it’s wrong.( On the other hand I’m not that stupid so maybe I’ll just watch a rerun of Starsky and Hutch instead.)
Now in one way or the other I’ve been doing the school run for 12 years because unfortunately I managed to conceive my children…