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Showing posts from July, 2008

Help! It's the School Holidays!

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Well this will be a very short post because it's that dreaded time of year...The School Holidays. Of course, whilst I relish the idea of not doing The School Run, I'm still Mrs T's Taxi Service running my Terrible Trio in my deadly Cmax all over the place. Our summer vacation to Ireland approaches too so I'm vaguely thinking about packing some stuff but as usual I will endeavour to leave it to the very last moment just so I can remember what the word "excitement" means. "Excitement" usually means a giant sized bar of Cadburys these days but the stress of packing which always nearly brings Mr T and I to blows is always good for letting out a little bit of pent up frustration. At the moment I'm trying to figure out how to get Mr T's fishing rods into a 4x4 sq inch space. Fortunately, I have a rather good idea; it may involve a mallet or possibly a small chainsaw. Who knows, I'm feeling daring today...maybe both!

Well I had some sad new on M…

Mrs T is back with a load of gibberish..

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The last week has not been one of my best. The bad news of my last post set me off on one of my rollercoaster emotional periods which for Mrs T is like having laboured over the preparation of the most exquisite meal I have ever attempted (home made sausages rather than the shop bought ones) and then to drop the lot just as I’m about to serve it up to an eagerly awaiting Mr Brosnan. Not good! To top it off this week I had my first proper interview for a job for about 12 or 13 years which induced some mixed feelings. (These are the same mixed feelings that I normally reserve for viewing Sylvester Stallone movies; i.e. boy is his body hot but he just can’t act….)

To continue… Surprisingly, I was not particularly nervous about this interview because I knew I could do the job and do it very well and also I’m one of those people who enjoy challenging situations; yep I was one of those weird breed of people who actually revelled in doing exams at school. (Obviously, not maths as you would hav…

Mrs T takes a leave of absence......

*Ding dong* the doorbell chimes, and Mrs T excitedly walks to the door.


Oh Pierce. It is you! I always knew this moment would come!” Mrs T croons.


Jane, my love, can I come in?” Pierce smoothly replies. His eyes smouldering with passion.


Of course Pierce. Please. Come in.” Mrs T replies. Her nightrobe falling slightly open to reveal her tazmanian devil nightie, with stains of a Cadbury caramel bar.



Oh, do excuse the stain!” Mrs T says, as she starts to suck on the chocolatey goodness stain.


"GO! GO! G O! Hold her down. No, harder. She is escaping! Come on...just a second more. OK, I got the sleeves around the back and the straps done up. That’s it. Take her away!"


*cue face peeled off a’la mission impossible styleeee*


Ahaaaaa! It is I. Master Sy. It is time to end this insanity of Mrs T’s.


Dear readers, after several “dodgy” posts, Mrs T has been replaced. As you read this, chocolate is being dangled in front of her eyes, and every time she goes for it, the straight jacket gets …

A life worth living

I was going to write a humorous post today. But I’ve had a change of heart. I’d like to tell you a story instead. I hope you don’t mind.

This is the story of Divya.

I first met Divya when she was in her early twenties. She was born in the UK to parents who had emigrated here from India. She was a pretty, petite woman. She was skinny but also had a quite sensual appearance with long dark curly hair, big brown eyes and the sallow skin inherited from her parents.

I suspect she must have quite a tough upbringing in many ways. She was raised in a small red brick terrace that opened directly onto the street in a large urban town and I’m guessing there wasn’t a lot of money for life’s little luxuries. I suspect Divya struggled too with cultural differences. From what I ascertain, her parents retained their own culture as much as possible but she appeared to embrace a more British way of life; a life with perhaps more personal freedoms than her heritage had foreseen. She studied and went to coll…

Knowledge & Music

Now Mrs T has a little announcement.

Firstly, no, I’m not pregnant! In fact, I’d rather smear myself in lard and climb in the Lion’s den at London zoo than live through another pregnancy. The only benefit about being pregnant is the excuse one has for “eating for two” which unfortunately backfires when you realise that it is a HUGE fib put out about by the likes of Sheila Kitzinger that all the weight will dramatically fall off you if you breast feed. Lies, all lies! And what’s more it actively encourages you to become addicted to lovely fattening goodies you wouldn’t normally have eaten. (Well that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it!)

Now what was that announcement? Ah yes…. Pierce and I……..

Oh no it was the other one…..

Now Mrs T has very kindly been invited by Mike French of The View From Here to administer its associate Book Readers Group run on Blog Catalog. Basically, I will be initiating some discussions on Books and perhaps fuelling them in the calm, rational and thoughtful way I …

A little bit of silliness

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Oh dear. Last night Mrs T had one of her major cooking disasters. I decided to cook lamb chops, fried in a little olive oil. (Noticed how delicately I wrote that… as if I actually cared…. )Anyhow this was supposed to be a little treat for my boys as Master Sam has finished his O Levels, Master Jacob received two awards on Saturday for football (Player’s Player and Supporters player) and Master Benedict got Player’s Player for his team. Mrs T was even more pleased because on Friday Master Jacob was asked to train with the County Tennis Squad. Finally. And Mrs T is very, very proud of her little boy because I doubt if there a sweeter, more deserving boy.

Anyhow back to the lamb chops. Well I divided them into two pans. One has more chops in than the other and the one with less in begins to sizzle nicely. Mrs T is pleased; the chops will go very nicely with the oven chips and the imaginary vegetables she can’t be bothered to prepare. (God I love those vitamin tablets) The other is not siz…