Showing posts from July, 2015

School Holiday Ramblings No 2

There's no other way to say it. I had a miserable day yesterday when my pet chicken, Miss Agatha, died.

She was a chicken like no other. For a start, she had a partially severed claw which, no doubt, was the reason why she was the only West Sussex available at the farm we purchased her from. 
She also thought she was a cockerel. 
Which was slightly problematic. Especially, if you're expecting a nice placid hen who makes an occasional cluck and generally behaves herself.
So Miss Agatha was definitely not a well-behaved hen. Every morning for the last four and a half years she woke me at the crack of dawn with her loud cock-a-doodling. In fact, she would cock-a-doodle anytime she fancied some attention. (Which was a lot and particularly when in pursuit of luxury food items.) She was tenacious, stubborn and had no fear. She would chase off cats and other birds no matter what their size.
As the years passed, Miss Agatha would wander inside our home with increasing regularity. Her …

School Holiday Ramblings No 1

So the school holidays are upon us. The best thing about this is I don't get hypertension trying to get the boys to school on time and the bad thing is I am doing even more driving than usual. This is not good for the life expectancy of hedgehogs, rabbits and low-flying pigeons.

So we are now into the second week of the holidays and the boys and I are in the midst of their summer tennis campaign. In between the driving and competing I am trying to manage my publishing endeavours, write and do all those other things that mothers are supposed to do. (Excluding ironing which I try to avoid as much as possible - it's the feminist in me.)

And the rest of the time I am trying to catch-up with the TV series Ashes to Ashes which I highly recommend, especially if you want a taste of less politically correct UK in the 1980s and surreal drama, or string tennis rackets. Master Jacob, in particular, has a beast of a forehand and even though he is now restringing most of his rackets himself…

A Truly Awful Poem

It annoys me when I have to be polite
And sound all erudite
When I want to be rude
Stick my fingers up and be crude
It's such a pain being an English Rose
Who would never pick her nose*
Sometimes I want to say naughty words
And call people nerds
But I don't
Cos I'm nice
And always think twice**
I also write particularly bad poems
Not even half as good as Wilfred Owen.
Who was very unlucky and got shot
Whereas I have just lost the plot

*in public
** only sometimes

My Analysis of Recent Articles at The Guardian

Blimey, I haven't even had time to write my list of lost things yet and The Guardian are already banging on about feminism again. Apparently, it's not okay to call women "girls" but it okay to call men "boys."

Surely, there's more to life than that to complain about? I can think of some really big issues worth having a rant about. I could even make up some stories to rant about. Maybe about something I've lost. (Not a ring obviously - see last post.) How about when I lost my virginity? That's got to be a hell of a lot more interesting to just about everyone including feminists and misogynists.

Anyway, I am happy if a man wants to call me a "girl." The fact that he would probably be 95 years old, blind and suffer from senile dementia is irrelevant - it would still make me feel young and sexy.

The Guardian are also whinging about the niceness of the Royal Christening photos today. What bores. Anyway, I can't take that article serious…

What the hell is going on at The Guardian?

For the benefit of you folks abroad, I must first explain that The Guardian is meant to be a bastion of British newspaper intellectual reading. However, of late, I've had some weird clickbait stuff feeding into my Facebook stream which has caused me to react rather like this:
"What the heck? Did I click on The Daily Mail in error? Oh crap. I didn't. It is The Guardian."
"No really? Another article on feminism?"
"Hmm. What? Another article on Jeremy Clarkson and Top Gear? "
"Okay. This definitely looks like a clickbait article. Let me sexual deviancy in feminists is fashionable. Hmm...where's that link to The Daily Mail?"
"Hmm. What another article on Tim Hunt? Leave the man alone, he's a nobel prize winner. He made a poor joke - he didn't massacre innocent babies! I'm going to stick my head in a bowl of sand in a minute. But first, I'll have a quick look at the culture section..."