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Millennium Housewife



In the middle of the Midlands in the middle of her life in the middle of one husband, two children and a dog called Twizzle.



Updated: 2017-09-11T12:00:08.701+01:00

 



Things I have Said To My Husband Today

2014-08-31T11:41:03.449+01:00


  • Oooh thanks
  • Lovely
  • I do love my birthday
  • No no that's fine
  • Lots of little ones are great
  • I don't need a big present
  • Hmmm
  • I wonder what it is
  • Oh
  • Err
  • Lovely
  • Yes I know
  • I know I need a new mug
  • It's great
  • It's 
  • Just
  • Well
  • It's pink
  • And got a willy for a handle
  • I'm sure you did have a laugh
  • I'm glad you enjoyed shopping
  • For the first time
  • Yes yes
  • What a funny shop girl
  • I bet she does have great taste
  • And loves willy mugs
  • But
  • Well
  • What do I do when friends come over
  • And they see me with a willy mug
  • Oh
  • I see
  • All of them?
  • Six?
  • I do like matching sets yes
  • It will be a talking point
  • I do like lots of presents
  • I just didn't think they'd be willy themed
  • Should I expect willy mugs in every present?
  • Excellent
  • Excellent
  • So there's nothing else?
  • Oh
  • Ok
  • I'd love one last surprise
  • I'm glad you're excited
  • Yes I'm excited too
  • Hmmm
  • I wonder what it is
  • Oooh
  • A sleeping bag
  • Yes I did need a new one
  • It's just
  • Well
  • It's in the shape of a willy
  • Yes I do appreciate the theming
  • It will be lovely and warm
  • What do you mean that's not all?
  • What else could there possibly be?
  • Oh
  • I see
  • I'm glad you got one too
  • Yes it will be fun camping
  • We will look good
  • Ohh even better
  • Yes that's certainly the best bit
  • I'm really glad they zip together
  • Excellent
  • Yes I get the joke
  • Two peas in a pod wasn't exactly what came to mind
  • You're right
  • I am the luckiest wife ever
  • I can't wait to go camping



Things I Have said To My Husband Today

2014-08-22T13:24:52.857+01:00

That’s lovelyThank youYes I doI do love being on holidayWith youOf course I like being with youWellBecauseWellWe’re marriedAnd that’s what married people doWhat do you mean bored?Why would I get bored/Who’s bored?YouAhRightOkWellWhat would you like to do?What football?In Spain?OhWellOkJust this onceYou’re not doing me a favourI don’t need you out of my hairYou’re not very annoyingYes even when you dancePlease don’t danceI like your jokesInappropriate is goodNoNo I haven’t wished you had someone to play withWaiting for what mates?We’re in SpainYou don’t know anyone in SpainSo you don’t have any matesYou’ve what?Invited who?Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head?What do you mean I’m welcome?Oh good Lord Jesus ChristYesYes I hear itGo and open the door thenThings I Have Said to Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head TodayOhHi guysYesLovely to see you tooNo thanksNo thanks Bucket HeadI can do my own suncreamReallyWell I tend to yesWell alwaysI always wear a bikini topNoI never take it offNot even nowI know we’re in EuropeI don’t mind looking like a touristI don’t mind standing outPlease stop nudging each otherAnd grinningStanding out is not a funny phraseVery mature PokeyPretending to have boobs is a classic I agreeYou’re all very funnyHere you goAll of youIt’ll get you an ice creamYes you can spend it on beerNow go and watch the football[...]



Things I Have Said To My Father Today

2014-08-04T10:18:17.049+01:00


  • Hi Dad
  • It's me
  • Fine thanks
  • Yes, yes fine
  • All fine yes thanks
  • No I don't want to speak to mum
  • Well, you
  • Ok
  • Well
  • Err
  • Right
  • Um 
  • Well a package arrived addressed to you
  • At my house
  • Oh right
  • Glad you're not surprised
  • Oh that's lovely of you
  • Well I suppose surprises are nice yes
  • Mum does love surprises
  • Especially on her birthday
  • Well anything would beat the trowel you bought her last year
  • Or the comb from the year before
  • Yes she does use it daily
  • On the cat
  • The Internet is magic yes
  • All sorts of things
  • Excellent
  • I'm glad you're having such fun with it
  • And enjoying ordering surprises
  • It's just
  • Just
  • Well could you come and get it sometime
  • Before her birthday
  • Well I'm very sorry for ruining the surprise
  • But it's been sitting on the mantlepiece
  • And vibrating
  • And Jack asked me all about it
  • And made a rrrr ing noise
  • Well I said that you'd ordered a razor
  • And then it vibrated off the mantlepiece and the packaging split
  • Yes I did like the colour
  • Very nice
  • Well a sort of purply pink I suppose
  • It does suit mum's colouring yes
  • Could you come and get it?
  • It's just not suitable here
  • I left it on the floor
  • Rrrrr ing
  • Would you want to touch it?
  • Oh good lord
  • I don't need details thanks
  • I know we're all grown ups
  • No thanks
  • I really don't want to try one
  • It's not an investment 
  • My future happiness is fine
  • I don't care if there's a sale
  • I don't feel I'm missing out
  • Honestly
  • How's what going?
  • What do you mean in that department?
  • We're fine
  • I won't thank you in the future
  • Please don't suppose anything
  • Or make suggestions
  • He won't look at me with new eyes
  • No more details please
  • Could you just come and get it
  • Please
  • Ok
  • Fine
  • I'll think about it
  • I know how to work the internet thanks
  • I'll look it up
  • Yes I promise
  • And we'll never, ever mention this again.



  • Old Kid On The Block

    2014-08-01T11:15:57.345+01:00

    Crikey restarting this blog is like starting school all over again, except this time you're the old and wrinkled one sitting at the back wondering where your friends went and if any of this new bunch bought a corkscrew.
    Firstly, I don't know my way around this new fangled blogosphere, the corridors smell funny, there's no set seating for lunch and my spot with the comfy grass round the back of the bike shed has been taken. I feel a Pile coming on.

    Secondly, I've got to make new friends. Which is painful, I'm terrible at it, I tend to fall over my words and make inappropriate jokes about anything that comes to mind. I was once introduced to a Mum at the school,  and all I could think of to say was:
    "Haven't you got even teeth"
    To be fair she had got really really straight teeth, but this was in answer to the question "is this your puppy?" Which it was, so I should have just said yes and would you like a stroke? Of the puppy not me hahahah - see, I do it on the keyboard too. I mean, would you be friends with me? Doubtful, I steal (WHY, why do I do that?)

    Anyway it's been four years away from this blogging malarky, my new career in interpretive dance went quickly by the wayside, apparently interpretive dance still means you actually have to be able to dance. Which the Cruise Liner didn't specifically say on the advert. Also, turning up dressed as a pantomime cow to the Captain's Welcome Dinner was seen as an interpretation too far even though we were having beef. Honestly, no sense of humour the lot of them.

     I did try and lighten the dinner up by taking up the captain's hat and spreading my arms out wing-like and singing My Heart Will Go On but he just looked crosser and went red. In one last attempt to get him to bloody cheer up, I winked at him through my costume and suggested I'd like him to draw me, "wearing this (tugging at cow costume) and only this" Flutter flutter, simper. So that was the end of my interpretative dance career.

    Last year I went to register as a childminder but they suggested I take a breathalyser before the next interview and to consider carefully if this was the career for me. Obviously I insisted that it was, I'd be ace at it.  I've got two kids of my own and they're alive, and I've had one of them for ten years, speaks for itself really.
    "Hand me a couple of kids and I'll show you" I said winningly, "come back in ten years and they'll be alive, I SWEAR". 
    I don't think they could find any children that needed minding that week so I didn't get to do that job.

    Eventually I did some dog walking, no one really interviews you for that and dogs don't talk. You can tie them up anywhere - anywhere!- as long as the General Public can't see, and have a sit-down, a bit of a snooze, anything really and get paid for it. The dogs are really grateful too, especially if you wear your cow outfit. They think you're trying to be their friend.

    But I missed the blogging, Mistress of my own domain, charting my own course, laying wherever I set my dogs, and I think I'm dead employable online; it's anonymous, you can't tell whether I passed the breathalyser and I have endless, endless inappropriate relatives. Lucky, lucky me.
    And lucky you for getting to join in.








    Will You Have Me Back?

    2014-07-31T19:04:50.594+01:00

    I know, I know, bloody fickle. You close one blog down four years ago, only to beg, weep, sob gently into your Pinot in sweeping gestures of contrition in hope, nay, prayer, that you'd have me back.I'll be good I swear. I'll post regularly, I'll give credit where credit's due - all hail Husband's underpants and general lack of hygiene for most of my fodder - and I'll fill you in down below with all the smutty innuendo you can swallow. If, if, you'll take me back I will endeavour to give you a four to one smut ratio. So, rather hoping the answer will be a yes, I'll make good on my first promise - see, I can be trusted*Here we go:HusbandStill smellsHas learned to lift the toilet seat while spraying. We threw a party.Is working on the spraying using a kind of plastic bottle contraption he, Pokey, Stu and Bucket head worked on together.Is trying to patent his Spray-AwayDecided to become vegetarian for a year until he discovered bacon is meat.Has switched from beer to cider for health reasons.Measures his bald spot in area rather than circumference and enjoys remarking on how long until he can feasibly buy a merkin.Has agreed to change his underpants at least every other day Says hello to you all and would like me to remind you that he's four years older and therefore wiser. Quite.TwizzleIt turns out Twizzle is allergic to his own fur. It seems we picked the only self allergic, incontinent dog on the planet. Lucky, lucky me.Also, his ears drag in the water when he drinks out of his bowl and we have to peg his ears up with a clothes peg. Picture it.Also while I think of it, he humped the baby sitter last night. Just thought I'd share that, it's not really an update, rather a tally.IslaIS TEN. TEN!! And away at pony camp learning about Really Expensive Hobbies and things you can buy to accessorise Really Expensive Hobbies. You can get bling stirrups and everything.Is bringing out a line in pony hair dye and non pierced hooped earrings.Continues to out smart, out cool and out socialise her mother.JackIs seven. I was going to put that in block capitals with an exclamation mark and everything but meh. Your second's way less exciting when hitting new ages. Sooo last season, as Isla would say.Has decided that he wants to be seven when he grows up and mistakes the black and white pony Isla rides for a cow.My MotherStill has a key to my house.Has decided to outwit Shirley-the-Competition this week by forgetting to water her plants for her while she's away. "that'll teach her to reach above her station and go to Istanbul" Sniff. My Mother pronounces Istanbul as Standing Bull.Asked Husband if he could get dad a merkin when he finally bought his.Still wears boots from the Transexual shop.DadHas found a new place for the porn mags. My Mother once took an interest in his potting shed and moved the seed trays. There were Words.Has started trying to work the internet.Has replaced his paint stirring stick with much mourning. He wore a black band for a week, with a playboy bunny appliquéd at the side.Is talking to Barry Next Door again when they both lost to Clive From Down The Road in the Most Knobbly Cauliflower competition. They're working on a carrot-shaped beetroot prototype with an eye to a Most Hilarious Vegetable rosette.Millennium HousewifeContinues the quest for stable sanity. It's all down to you.*Cannot be trusted[...]



    So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye

    2010-11-09T20:51:19.075+00:00

    It is a truth universally acknowledged that a Mother in possession of two children in school must be in want of a life. One that isn't virtual that is.
    So dear readers it is with some regret that I close this blog and attempt to find some kind of existence beyond the four walls of my kitchen, one hopefully with more padding than this kitchen chair I've been sitting on for the last three years.
    It's been wonderful knowing you all, I've made some great virtual and some non virtual friends, followed your adventures and laughed and cried with a lot of you.
    Rest assured I will still be haunting your blogs, I'll just comment anonymously, just to keep you all guessing...
    You'll forgive an old gal some indulgence won't you if I repost my four favourite ever posts? Call it nostalgia, call it blatant hooting about the glory years, call it plagiarism from the past. Whatever, just indulge me, there's a love.
    So long,
    MH xxxxxx



    Things I have said To My Parents Today

    2010-11-09T20:23:33.797+00:00



    • Ooh thankyou
    • Happy early Christmas to you too
    • I like the wrapping
    • Shall I guess?
    • Ok
    • Err
    • Well it doesn't rattle
    • It's squareish
    • It's quite light
    • I'm guessing a book
    • Shall I open it?
    • Excellent
    • I wonder what it is
    • Yes I was right, a book
    • Sex As You Age?
    • Sex As You Age?
    • What do you mean I'm quite welcome?
    • It may well have got you through some tough times
    • But I'm in my thirties
    • My Thirties
    • I'm not aging
    • Or in need of an elderly person's sex manual
    • Oh crikey
    • There's notes in the margin
    • Especially for me?
    • Was this your book?
    • Dad please don't say Ours like that
    • While putting your arm round mum
    • Because I'm holding your sex manual
    • And sitting next to you
    • And trying desperately to think of something pleasant
    • And Christmassy
    • And not look at the chapter entitled Arthritis Of The Knee And You
    • Dad
    • Stop winking at mum
    • Put your hands where I can see them
    • Both of you
    • I'm taking away the sherry
    • No you can't have it back at bedtime
    • Because we're in the room next to you
    • And I can see you've put your knee bandage on
    • Yes of course safety comes first
    • But so does your daughter's mental health
    • I'm sure you do have a book on that too
    • But really
    • No more books OK
    • Because my nerves can't take it
    • No thanks
    • I don't want my other present
    • Because it looks suspiciosly like a pot of chocolate
    • And a box of knee bandages






    Things I Have Said To My Husband Today

    2010-11-09T20:25:27.362+00:00


    • Ooh, yes I'd love a night out tonight
    • What do you mean just you?
    • But I do like them
    • I love Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head
    • Oh
    • Right
    • Of course I want you to have a good night
    • I know Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head don't have girlfriends
    • Apart from each other
    • Nothing, sorry
    • I didn't say anything I just coughed
    • Will you be coming home after?
    • Are you sure you don't want to stay at Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head's
    • Yes of course I want you to come home
    • Well you only have to sleep in the spare room if you snore
    • I know you snore when you're drunk
    • So you're guaranteeing that you're going to snore?
    • Well then it'll have to be the spare room
    • Because I have to get up with the children
    • What do you mean where will Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head sleep?
    • Invited them here?
    • After a night in the pub?
    • Hmm
    • Well OK then
    • Could you just make sure you all throw up in the toilet?
    • I know there was a queue but the wok's just never been the same
    • OK I'll put buckets out
    • Send my love to Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head



    Husband Flu

    2010-11-09T20:25:38.422+00:00

    This post was going to be entitled 'man flu', not very original I know but could we really get through the Winter without reporting on this annual epidemic of such grave proportions that it results in so many near death encounters? Indeed it would be scandalous to ignore it, heartless even when we consider just how much our men folk have been through.Luckily none of them, despite predictions, assurances (promises even) and some evidence to the contrary, have passed away. We emerge once again unscathed by such suffering (them), and a little scathed by such ministering (us) and of course the worry.Husband's flu started about the time he first needed to blow his nose. It was a scary moment obviously, something was wrong with him, he might even feel poorly or, heaven's above need to go to the doctor's. In fact if a visit to The Scary Man was nigh the best thing to do, of course, was to take himself to bed and nurse himself until he was completely better to avoid such an encounter.The best thing about me, thought Husband, is that I make absolutely no fuss, in fact no one will even know I'm here. Unless I get really ill you understand. Yup, I understood. He sat in bed like a small boy in an Enid Blyton story, special striped pyjamas on (kept from his childhood and saved for the really serious cases), knees drawn up and duvet up to his chin. There was a weak smile as I entered the sick room with a cup of tea which he bravely sipped while quite hot. I had blown on it like he'd asked, but still, it was brave. I placed a box of tissues on the bedside table and a bucket as requested just in case. Then I duly went downstairs for the forgotten items (hot water bottle, Lemsip, cough drops and a newspaper in case his head felt up to reading). Yes, he was a little trouper, no one but me knew he was ill, and he was nursing himself through it in his own way. Of course he was too ill to get up and actually nurse himself, so I had to do it but the thought was there, he whispered weakly.It was a long afternoon for him, tea made his nose runnier so warm honey was duly administered, the hot water bottle was tricky to keep at just the right temperature despite him checking it on his thermometer, and the TV just wasn't up to scratch. He got through it somehow and struggled to bedtime managing a bowl of soup and chocolate pudding before checking the water bottle temperature and falling asleep next to me, exhausted.In bed that night he proceeded to groan as loudly as possible and thrash about wildly as he tried to deal with his flu. Every nose blowing event was performed accompanied by an expletive and a comment on how much he wasn't sleeping and how long to go until I had to get up. If I had managed to go to sleep between these events then I was sure to be awoken by loud retching noises away from the bucket as a demonstration of what might possibly happen were he to feel sick and I had missed the warning signs.By 2am I had had enough, he'd only used up one tissue all day and the 'sweat' patches were really spilled Lemsip. Risking a lifetime of references to my uncaring nature and pub near-death stories that I had no authority to refute so he could embellish at will, I moved to the spare room. I did explain to him why, but all he could reply was that he could see a bright light and should he go towards it?The dread of a cold bed and having to clean the guest sheets tomorrow were no deterrent to the thought of a decent few hours before getting up with the children. It was bliss, heaven, worth the lifetime's condemnation. For a while. He missed me you see, it may be his last night of sleeping next to me and wouldn't it be lovely to savour the moment? I felt the bed springs sink as he dragged himself into bed beside me. The groanings were louder this time although giving him the warm bit of the bed went some way to soothing them. The r[...]



    One Day

    2010-11-09T20:25:52.037+00:00

    One day I will have a small car again. One that only fits me and the occasional passenger and is clean, shiny and hand print free at all times.

    One day I will go with my husband on a second honeymoon (for two), wake with the sun high in the sky, get ridiculously and dizzyingly drunk at lunch time and go straight to bed until the next morning.

    One day my house will stay the way I left it, not mysteriously mess up the minute I turn my back.

    One day I will pop out to the shops - and I mean pop - and be finished in five minutes. I may even treat myself to a basket rather than a trolley-for-three and queue up giddily in the baskets only aisle.

    One day I will go to all the shops in my village and buy elegant things for dinner, stopping to chat or for a coffee at leisure. I will be able to fit myself (because there is only myself and no pram) into every tiny specialist shop, smug and happy that I'm 'buying locally'.

    One day I will have a cup of tea during nap time without the tension that someone may wake at any minute and ruin the moment. In fact I may even have a set cup-of-tea-time that I adhere to religiously just because I can.

    One day my children will refer to me as That Mad Old Bat or The Parental Guidance rather than Mummy Can I Have and I will be pleased at my eccentricities and lack of responsibility.

    One day I will actually go on a 'date night' (ha ha ha, did anyone really believe they would ever get to do that?) with my husband without the little knot of tension that everything's alright at home.

    One day my kitchen will be my own, the high chair, mini chair-and-table set and play mat will be gone and I will dance a waltz with my husband around our own elegant dining table in all the space.

    One day my day will end when I want it to, possibly as late as 11pm, rather than at 3pm when I start thinking about school pick up and tea.

    One day evenings will be for relaxing, possibly a glass of wine or even the cinema, not getting-ready-for-the-morning, ironing, sandwiches and signing notes.

    One day I will sleep all night long without nightmares/coughs/toilets/monsters to wake me.



    But



    One day the house will be ever so quiet, I will be able to whisper to myself and hear the echo.

    One day strangers won't smile at me on the street, pause and say; isn't she/he lovely, envious of my status, my life, my treasures.

    One day I won't get up to two smiling faces, ever so pleased that I'm awake and ready to play.

    One day the worry will be further away and thus more scary and less controllable.

    One day my tea break will be interrupted by the phone ringing, and it will be one of the children and I shall be very very glad.

    One day my heart won't burst with pride every morning just for the existence of another human being.

    One day the feeling of a tiny hand slipping into mine, skipping and pulling at it while I go, will be a distant, precious memory hard to grasp and pin down.

    One day tiny clothes and underwear that are so cute your heart skips will be missing from my washing line, my ironing pile.

    One day I will wish for little cold feet and snuffly noses to creep into bed with me. I may even wake in the night thinking they have only to find it was a dream.

    One day I won't be a hero, a queen, the focus and meaning in my children's lives. Just an ordinary person living invisibly.

    One day life will be for filling, but not necessarily fulfilling, not in the same way anyway.



    Until grandchildren.



    Position Of The Month

    2010-11-05T14:10:15.610+00:00

    These were my resolutions this week: Be Useful, Get A Job, Make A Difference. It's now Friday and I've just finished all the facebooking I needed to do and eaten the Halloween sweets that I hid from the kids so I really ought to get down to some work. Thank God it's the weekend tomorrow, I'm bushed.
    Talking of bushed, I did come across something the other day that may solve all three problems in one, fancy that! And with very little effort (my favourite kind of job).
    I was flicking through one of my (pre teen) cousin's magazines and there, in full blazing glory was a column entitled 'Position Of The Month.' This is not, dear puritan readers, an illustration of a likely position in order to prevent backache during long exams, or even, oh naive one, of a useful career position, one that includes the word doctor or lawyer. Of no, this was as in sex position, you know, like the one Playboy runs, they must have stolen the idea the swines. Note to Mr Heffner: please sue pre teen magazines before they steal any more of your ideas, (also personal note: please buy longer dressing robe type thing, I can see your willy every time you wear it, many thanks).
    Obviously I'm not shocked, of course I wasn't, I'm a woman of the world, a pre teen me read Bunty and Twinkle, well, now they've grown up. I did think though, that therein I may not only find my new career, but also a way to be useful. You see, these pictures were of real life couples in certain ahem, positions. Well, I could do that! Easily. Just watch (or not, there's no test at the end of this).
    I could pitch to the magazine a brand new column, one entitled 'Labour Positions Of The Month', this dear readers would not only earn me a bit of money and find a use for my now defunct vagina, but it would also contribute significantly to the lowering of the teenage pregnancy rate. The thought of stuffing a doll up there, even if it was good for the nation, puts me off a little but still, you've got to take the rough with the smooth (as I shall wisely tell the nation's teenage girls).
    Think about it - it's genius (and please forget all the other genius things I've proposed on this blog, this is the Real Deal, I'm in the zone!), money and usefulness for me, less babies for the under thirteens! It's brilliant! It's marvellous! It's something I may have to persuade Husband about.
    But still, I'm sure he'll come round, especially when I tell him about the awards I've been given, one's for services to humanity and all that. They could even put my labour pictures on milk cartons and things like they do with missing kids in America, that'll put them off their coco pops/copulation/dolls.
    It is indeed an idea for Humanity, one that may yet get me the knighthood I feel I so deserve. In fact if any of you feel the need, nay, the urge to nomintae me next time you see the queen please do, be sure to mention the milk carton idea.



    Thirty Nine Reasons Not To Get A Cat

    2010-10-27T18:45:23.573+01:00

    1. Because you already have a dog
    2. A mental one
    3. With a possible eating disorder
    4. Who still hasn't forgiven you for removing his balls
    5. Or calling him Twizzle
    6. They eat food that smells like a toilet
    7. They have a toilet in your kitchen
    8. Even the dog isn't allowed a toilet in the kitchen
    9. Even Husband isn't allowed a toilet in the kitchen
    10. Despite what he thinks
    11. You are expected to clean up their toilet
    12. Never ever Husband
    13. They sleep on your feet peacefully
    14. Until you are asleep
    15. Then they eat your head
    16. Never ever Husband's head
    17. Who insists you are paranoid
    18. They need their gonads removing
    19. They have spent the night locked in the kitchen with the dog
    20. Who has had his gonads removed
    21. And told them the whole sorry tail
    22. And pointed out that animals are the only males in the household to have their gonads removed
    23. Husband still has to get his done
    24. Despite what he may think
    25. They attempt to mate each other
    26. They are brothers
    27. They attempt to mate the dog
    28. Which is ill advised
    29. Just ask next door's cat
    30. Once his head brace is removed
    31. They never ever come when you call them
    32. They do what suits them
    33. They look at you with contempt
    34. They eat all your food
    35. And never thank you
    36. They resemble the rest of the family
    37. Because you would have liked a parakeet
    38. One that said thankyou
    39. And maybe came with gonads pre removed



    Things I Have Said To My Husband Today

    2010-10-08T10:31:04.899+01:00

    • Uuggghhhhhh
    • Huh?
    • Oh
    • Hi darling
    • Did you have a good night?
    • A very good night from the looks of it
    • Ummmm
    • Darling
    • It's 2am
    • I'm asleep
    • Night
    • Errr
    • Sweetheart
    • Can you move the kebab off my pillow?
    • That one
    • That kebab
    • The one spilling ketchup everywhere
    • Oh
    • Right
    • That's really kind of you
    • Thankyou
    • Yes I love my kebab
    • It's really kind of you
    • I do appreciate it
    • It's just that it's 2am
    • Can't I eat it in the morning?
    • I do love you
    • Yes I really do feel how much you love me
    • I do want the kebab
    • I love you and I love the kebab
    • I do hear how much you love me
    • Yes I really really love you too
    • I do mean it
    • I do appreciate the kebab
    • Ok just one bite
    • because I love you
    • See?
    • I love you
    • Because I'm sitting up at 2am eating a cold kebab
    • Did you have a great night?
    • How were Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head?
    • Oh good
    • Any sign of a girlfriend?
    • Or a shower?
    • Oh
    • Never mind
    • Did you hear that noise?
    • That noise
    • That scraping sound
    • It's what?
    • What?
    • Here?
    • Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head
    • Well where have you put them
    • Outside our door?
    • On the floor
    • So they can hear everything

    Things I Have Said To Pokey, Stu And Bucket Head Tonight

    • Errr
    • Hi Guys
    • Good night?
    • Excellent
    • Excellent
    • Oh thanks
    • Yes lovely
    • I'm really glad you thought to bring me a kebab
    • Yummy
    • I am eating it
    • Yes I love my kebab
    • And I love you all
    • Yes I can feel how much you all love me
    • Yes I love you too
    • Even you Bucket Head, yes
    • Um
    • Well
    • It's just
    • Could I ask that you all put some clothes on?
    • Left them where?
    • Well yes,
    • It was very thoughtful
    • No I wouldn't have liked muddy clothes walking through the house
    • Leaving them outside was a good idea, yes
    • It's just
    • Well
    • Maybe you could have remembered to take your shoes off too
    • And left your pants on




    Thirty Two Ways To Get Your Boot Camp Instructor To Give You Ten Press Ups

    2010-09-21T10:35:54.089+01:00

    1. Pretend not to hear when he yells through his loud speaker
    2. Call a taxi mid session
    3. Offer everyone free Starbucks if they stage a sit in with you
    4. Complain
    5. About Anything
    6. Even lack of refreshments
    7. Especially about lack of refreshments
    8. Refuse to 'wake your butt' by slapping it vigorously and with passion
    9. Enquire about the need for passion when slapping butt
    10. Refuse to slap your butt in front of three teenage boys
    11. Joke about slapping other people's butts
    12. Slapping other people's butts
    13. Making up what you ate last night
    14. Arguing that chocolate is raw and therefore counts
    15. Agreeing to work hard and smirking
    16. Smirking
    17. Laughing when doing the plank
    18. Talking when doing the plank
    19. Telling jokes when doing the plank
    20. Not concentrating when doing the plank
    21. Not taking the plank seriously
    22. Doing the plank badly
    23. Failing in plank performing
    24. Bringing gin to a session
    25. Swapping instructors Evian for gin
    26. Laughing at gin spitting
    27. Producing tonic water
    28. And an ice bucket
    29. Taking a picture of instructor swigging gin
    30. Refusing to hand over your camera
    31. Posting gin swigging on facebook
    32. Writing expose stylee blog posts



    Get Over Here So I Can Kick Your Ass Personally

    2010-09-14T11:48:28.280+01:00

    OK guys, I've signed up for a Bootcamp. At the risk of being accused of attention seeking (moi?) I'm going to give you another chance to read that sentence in lots of little dramatic sentences: I've. Signed. Up. For. Bootcamp. Did you hear me at the back? Audible gasps please and a change of background scenery if you will, to one befitting GI Jane et al, complete with abs you could mistake as breasts. Because that's going to be me! Me! With breast abs and everything. Just imagine, Husband won't know whether to jump me or milk me (a gross too far? Sorry mum).I still can't quite believe I've done it. I mean, I am far, far away from the ab thing (I won't mention the breast thing again, a case of over milking the cow don't you think?), about several vats of Chardonnay and hours of Oprah reruns away. If I ever do attempt any sort of exercise, and sitting down and standing up count, I only succeed in making everyone else gasp at their own relative super-fitness as I stagger behind sounding like an asthmatic wombat. I did once (once) drag my sorry soggy arse (Americans that's Ass to you, I put it in the title to help, sometimes I'm all heart) on a 5Km race only for it to take so long that the bin men picked me up on their rounds the next morning. By now you're getting the gist: Me+Exercise=Diseased Wombat+Soggy Arse, not an equation I would like to foist on any adolescent maths class.So I'm quite pleased with myself really, it really shows determination and forward thinking doesn't it? In fact, I'm positively a forward planner, gasp at my organisational skills! Marvel at my strength of character! Envy my multi tasking endeavors! (you have to move arms and legs together you know). In short, this is a fantastic achievement for me.Obviously I have yet to start the bootcamp, the first session is on Thursday, but still, it says a lot about how far I've come surely?And I promise I'm going to do it, every week and everything, not least because I've paid £97 for the privilege. Yup, mouths closed please, £97 of my hard earned cash. £97 for someone to kick my ass, and it's not hard to miss; it's been used in emergencies to hold up dams.I have paid someone to shout at me, make me run around outside, get me muddy, sweaty, laugh at my nail varnish, and generally abuse me in much the manner of a psycho. I have, in short, rented a psycho, one who I plan to meet alone at 8.30am (this just gets better and better doesn't it) in the park. Reading this back I conclude astutely that this may not have been my brightest moment.Not only all of the above, but psycho shouting person has furnished me with a welcome pack. Do not be fooled dear reader as I was that this welcome pack includes anything so welcoming as a cheery hello or a lighthearted suggestion that I go shopping post haste for some shiny new exercise gear. Crikey they didn't even throw in a free chocolate bar, surely, surely the cornerstone of any great welcome pack?But oh no, this welcome pack contained a five page diatribe of all things I have to give up: food, chocolate, alcohol, sex, (joke, Husband, joke) during the next four weeks, and all the things I'm expected to do: exercise, not ask questions, run at the double, cry only when instructed and keep an honest food diary.Which is my sticking point to be honest, I mean how on earth am I expected to keep an honest food diary without lying? I'm working hard on it obviously in case I starve but really, why include the word honest? It's just more abuse as far as I'm concerned, why can't they just say keep a food diary then I can write whatever I like. In fact I'd keep Paula Radcliffe's diary, that'd impress them, think how much praise I'd get for that; they may [...]



    Things I Have Said To My Parents Today

    2010-09-05T17:29:32.117+01:00

    • I came as quickly as I could
    • Well it sounded pretty urgent
    • When you phoned
    • You know
    • You phoned about twenty minutes ago
    • Saying get here quickly
    • Well
    • I got here quickly
    • Where's mum?
    • Out?
    • Well what's the problem
    • What chaffing?
    • Where?
    • Oh crikey
    • Just tell me what it's like
    • Uhuh
    • Umm
    • Errr
    • Well dad it sounds like you have piles
    • Piles
    • Haemorrhoid's
    • Little painful sores
    • Where do you think?
    • Around err
    • Around um
    • Well where you said it was painful
    • I'm sure it's nothing to worry about
    • No thanks
    • No no, that's fine
    • I said no
    • Please Dad
    • I don't think an inspection is necessary
    • Oh Lord
    • Well
    • Err
    • Yup,
    • Definitely piles
    • Well I can see them
    • Yes they are impressive
    • I'll take your word that they're worse than mum's
    • Oh Hi Mum
    • Yes it's me
    • Looking at Dad's piles
    • What do you mean you've inspected them already?
    • He said it was an emergency
    • And that you were out
    • You were where?
    • Getting pile ointment?
    • Well why did he get me to come over?
    • Oh
    • To see if they were bigger than mum's
    • Thanks dad
    • I'm sure they are
    • No thanks Mum
    • I really really don't want to compare
    • I wouldn't be useful
    • Or impartial
    • Well I'd probably go blind
    • And have to call a therapist
    • I'm not being dramatic
    • Or over reacting
    • Oh OK,
    • That's a great idea
    • Yes, you call the neighbour
    • I'm sure Barry would love to be the independent adjudicator
    • I'm sure he is very fair at scrabble



    Three Rings To Come and Get Us

    2010-07-12T17:52:55.239+01:00

    The children have gone to stay at my parents. This, for most of you out there would be a cause for grand celebration, glorious freedom, a night out with lashings of wine and a spot of sex without locking the bedroom door, I know! Heady times. But over here in Millennium Housewife Country (population: 4, sane residents: 1) it's a tiny bit tense; the time is spent not in the pursuit of lost, youthful hedonism but instead sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring three times. Because that's the signal you see. In case of emergency Isla will surreptitiously pick up the phone at my parent's house, dial our number, let it ring three times and whoosh, we swoop to rescue.Obviously this is nothing against My Mother, or dad for that matter, it's just she's not a natural Grandmother. When I took a newborn Isla for her first ever visit to Granny, My Mother made us enter the house via the backdoor "In case the neighbours see and think I'm old enough to be a grandma" She hissed, patting her shampoo and set and adjusting her pearls. We were swept into the house at great speed, I was at least heartened by the fact she didn't insist on covering our heads with a tartan blanket in much the same manner as a murderer. Every cloud.Once in, My Mother ushered us into The Front Room. The Front Room! That deserves a line all of its own don't you think?The Front Room If you knew, if you knew of the sancity of the front room you would have given it its own line too. You may even have stood up to salute and applaud and sing the national anthem lustily and with vigour. You see, I've never been in the front room, we weren't allowed; the front room is for best, for guests, it has sofas with the plastic still covering them, a little slippery perhaps but staying put until the pope visits. It has lush, plush carpet untouched by shoes, a chandalier reminiscent of Marks and Spencer's take on Dynasty. Little occasional tables litter the room, nestling under each other like fake mahogany Russian Dolls, doilies adorn every surface, the ubiquitous Portrait of my parents, naked except for mask and snorkels, framed in the finest gilt and lit overhead by a special portrait illuminating light. It was the holy grail of my childhood, glimpsed only on special occasions between legs of grown up aunties and uncles before being ushered upstairs to play with the other abandoned children. If I'd know all it took to get in there was producing a grandchild I'd have done it years ago, which is probably why they didn't tell me.So, you can see what an occasion it was, it may have taken me nigh on thirty(ish) years to get in, but Isla had managed it in six weeks, just by existing. Life was looking up. My Mother opened the door formally and invited us in with a slight bow of her head, and then, well, we stood around really. My Mother stood in the centre looking slightly puzzled, resplendent in her smart suit, freshly laundered hair and much loved prostitute boots that she bought from the local transvestite shop (you can't actually buy a transvestite there, just the clothes). She looked at Isla quizzically and quietly offered her a small dish of peanuts and enquired after her health. "She can't talk you know mother""Oh yes, yes of course" she said in an accusing kind of way, and sat down under the portrait and sighed wistfully, "I'm sure you were doing more at this age" she added and mournfully ate a peanut. "She's six weeks old" I protested, hugging Isla tightly and refusing a gin and tonic"Still," She said, "I think we had you walking" and at this she attempted to take Isla and demostrate a walking motion. So that is why we're spending the next fe[...]



    Books I Am Planning To Write

    2010-06-21T20:37:34.965+01:00

    • De Worm Your Family In Seconds
    • How To Ask Your Friends To De Worm Without Giving Yourself Away
    • Concealing Worm Medicine In Sandwiches
    • Sex Education For Six Year Olds - the avoidance approach
    • Sex Education For Six Year Olds - how to defer to your Husband
    • Sex Education For Three Year Olds- how to defer to your six year old
    • Lose Fifteen Pounds Instantly - put your toddler down
    • Get Your Kids Hooked On Veg! alternative uses for nicotine
    • Sex! And Other Ways To Jewelery, Attention and Shoes
    • Talking To Teachers: tuck your shirt in and stand up straight
    • Child Proof Your House: lock them out
    • Crikey Your Pecs Look Good! and other ways to get your husband to do absolutely anything*


    *not a guarantee




    Things I have said To My Parents Today

    2010-06-12T11:29:13.523+01:00

    • Hiya
    • Hellooooo
    • Mum?
    • Dad?
    • Muuuum
    • Daaaaad
    • The doors open
    • It's only me
    • Where are you?
    • Oh Good Lord Jesus Christ
    • Err
    • Hi mum
    • Hi dad
    • Sorry
    • Sorry to er
    • Well disturb you I suppose
    • I'll just
    • errr
    • Look over here
    • La la la la la
    • La la la la la
    • No no
    • No trouble
    • I'm not behaving strangely
    • It's just
    • Well
    • It's not what I expected to see
    • Not in that position anyway
    • I'm sure it was in a book
    • No thanks
    • I really don't want to borrow it
    • I'm sure it is informative
    • With clear illustrations
    • But I don't need the book
    • I'm not embarrassed
    • I'm well aware you're not embarrassed
    • It's just
    • Well
    • What will the neighbours think?
    • Well do you have to do it in the garden?
    • Well you should have stayed in the potting shed
    • I don't care if it was uncomfy
    • Dad's trowel?
    • Stuck where?
    • Oh Good Lord Jesus Christ
    • Sorry
    • Sorry for taking the Lord's name in vain
    • Twice
    • But the Lord would take his own name in vain if he knew about the trowel
    • I don't care what Oprah says
    • Why do you have to listen to Oprah?
    • I'm sure she does give great advice
    • About wallpaper
    • What did she suggest?
    • Spicing things up?
    • Couldn't you just have added curry powder or something?
    • Rather than doing it in the garden
    • In that position
    • Oh
    • OK
    • I'm going to write to Oprah

    Things I Have Written To Oprah Today

    Dear Ms Winfrey

    Please could you do more programmes on things like home makeovers and being nice to other people, you're very good at them. My Mother watches you every day and they're her particular favourite.

    Please could you stop doing programmes on sex for older people, specifically ones where you suggest new places for them to do it. The place they used to do it was just fine: in bed with the lights out on a Sunday. That way we all know where we are.

    Many Thanks, and keep up the good work,

    Millennium Housewife

    PS, if you don't stop the sex stuff I'll tell you the trowel story.




    Things I Have Said To My Husband Today

    2010-05-29T18:42:23.084+01:00

    • What are you doing?
    • Right now
    • What were you doing just then?
    • I know you're putting your pants on
    • But they're inside out
    • Oh you know already
    • Right
    • Well
    • Err
    • Why?
    • Why are you putting your pants on inside out?
    • What do you mean you've worn the other side?
    • What other side?
    • The inside bit?
    • You mean you've worn those already?
    • Three days?
    • And now you're turning them inside out
    • To wear the clean side
    • I am not grateful
    • No I should not be
    • I really don't need you to save me washing
    • Because I'd rather you wore clean pants every day
    • It's not bad for your health
    • I don't care what Pokey, Stu or Bucket Head say
    • I'm really not interested
    • What competition?
    • With Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head?
    • A pant competition?
    • Well just tell them you lost
    • Because you have a wife
    • Who has a nose
    • Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head only have each other
    • Well I don't feel sorry for them
    • No they can't come tonight
    • I'm very sorry if they're starved of female company
    • There's probably a good reason for that
    • I'm sure they do say a lot of nice things about me
    • And praise my lasagne
    • But that's because it's the only non takeaway meal they've ever eaten
    • Well you'll just have to un invite them
    • What important job?
    • Me?
    • No
    • I won't do it
    • I'm not judging the pant competition
    • Or washing the winner's pants
    • Well you shouldn't have told them I would
    • I know I'm the only woman in their lives
    • Perhaps if they changed their pants more often they'd find someone
    • What do you mean they tried that?
    • One week?
    • Well of course it didn't work
    • I think it'll take a bit longer than a week
    • And perhaps a toothbrush



    Hips, Dips And Trips Down The Aisle

    2010-05-18T17:44:14.290+01:00

    Last weekend grandma got engaged. This is not My Mother you understand, the kid's grandma, but my grandma, you know, the 95 year year old who lives in a nursing home. Obviously if it had been My Mother this post would not have opened in such a calm, measured, mature way without a hint of hysteria about it. Oh no, if I were talking about My Mother you would have been treated, nay gifted with a multi paragraphed diatribe on the evils of the older generation; their lack of staying power and commitment; how they expect everything on a plate nowadays without striving; and most importantly how you should never ever remarry once your children know about sex, because that's about all they'll think about once you announce you're about to remarry. And thinking about your parents and the merest hint that they may possibly have a sex life is To Be Avoided At All Costs, because you'll go blind. Or something. It'll be their fault anyway whatever the outcome.So it's My Mother that gets to do the diatribe thing and obsess over not obsessing about the possibility her 95 year old mother-in-a-home (Delia does a recipe) is planning to tie the knot (to the bedpost - ha ha! Joke mum, joke) and possibly embark on a new spring in her step chapter of her life.It has, to be honest been a bit of a shock, not helped by the fact that grandma is a bit mental. She regularly attempts to buy plane tickets to Belgium at the nursing home desk, thinks that all biscuits talk but only in Spanish and has an unholy interest in s-e-x (as she calls it before describing select portions of it in interesting detail).Anyway, it's fallen to me to deal with the whole getting married thing and all it encompasses. There are only so many things I can expect My Mother to do and dealing with her own mother's impending (mental) nuptials and subsequent buying of negligees for the Wedding Night is not one of them. Firstly I had to visit grandma and her betrothed Vincent on Monday to have The Talk. I approached this as a useful practise session for when I have to have The Talk with Isla and Jack. Husband is not doing this, whatever he says; Jack would simply be furnished with a few choice chat up lines and a bumper pack of condoms, and Isla would be encouraged to marry God.The Talk was no nonsense and to the point (see how mature I'm getting?) and (obviously) loud, neither of them hearing at a level which would be preferred when discussing intimacies. I encouraged them both to wait until they were married (again! so mature!), not least because if the physical effort finished one of them off all my efforts for the wedding day would be wasted and, more to the point, unappreciated.I was spared the whole gauntlet of contraception for obvious reasons (and if the reasons aren't obvious you sure did miss biology on the wrong day). But I did ask them to pay particular attention to the fact they've both had hip replacements and to be extra careful when thrusting, and perhaps remove their magnetic arthritis bracelets if attempting anything sub naval. I'm thinking of purchasing them a large road sign to place above their marriage bed saying Mind The Hip. Should do the trick.I've also begun to plan the wedding; I've found a lovely venue with no steps or loose carpet, they've promised to provide a loud hailer for the speeches and a stand in for the best man should his bunions play up and best of all a couple of commodes dressed as thrones. Very Victoria Beckham. I'll keep you posted.[...]



    Model Behavior

    2010-05-11T14:21:56.392+01:00

    I have been terribly remiss about updating this blog, I do apologise and I know you will all be breathing a sigh of relief that the absence isn't because of My Mother's bunions again. Thanks to dad's ministering of God-knows-what they're healing nicely (cue global out breath and subsequent raising of CO2 levels, sorry Mr Gore, forget industry, three inch stilettos are where the problem's at).
    It's just that I've been lazy, lazy and a little tired. I do love my family, despite what you all may think, and I do love being a stay at home mum, sometimes. But it's been a long time, over six years of being home alone with a baby/toddler/preschooler and I could do with a break. One which doesn't involve finding something new to do with Jack during the day.
    Mother and toddler groups just don't cut it anymore. There's only so many times I can stand in a circle, gripping a child's hand to make him/her stay beside me while waving enthusiastically at the teacher during Hello Hello It's Nice To See You; and I'm not sure how long I can stand to look surprised to find my knees again, or how long Jack can put up with me whispering fiercely at him to make him stay during ring a ring o' roses so I don't have to hold another mummy's hand. The biscuits at the end of the session are a small consolation I suppose, but they do insist on giving the children all the good ones and us mummies the ones that look suspiciously wholemeal. I'd do a lot for a custard cream.
    Anyway, during one such session last week (where I rebelled a little and neglected to find my knees), I came up with a great idea to make mummy and toddler sessions (there are no daddies in ours) a lot more fun: Male Model Teachers.
    Think about it, it's perfect. As Carlsberg would say, this, Ladies and Gentlemen is probably the best playgroup in the world. The Male Model Teachers (TM) could have a uniform of simple, ripped jeans while their torsos could be all oiled and ripped too.
    It would mean that the Hello Hello It's Nice To See You song could have a lot more meaning and feel to it, you know? It really would be nice to see them; crikey you'd even arrive early to see whether they actually change into their uniforms at the village hall as the rumours suggest.
    Jack and Jill going up the hill would be a chance to snigger quietly as you winked at each other through the version that has them coming (snigger) down with a daughter. And the Goodbye Goodbye song could provide its own opportunity for pathos and real regret as those glistening pecs were put away for another week.
    Biscuit time would be changed forever, especially as the wine suggestion was taken up (and paid for generously) by the committee. Conversation would flow as we all waved away the wholemeal biscuits, and failed to look longingly at the custard creams. Who needs custard creams when you're watching your oh-so-slim figure? (this is a fantasy playgroup remember).
    I do hate to gloat, but this really is a simple and quite honestly genius way to transform the lives of any stay at home parent. Groups with dads in them could include female models, or any peccadillo really as long as you clear it with the committee. Let me know what you think, and any models out there looking for a change of career, do get in touch, I'm setting up an agency.



    Judgement Day

    2010-04-06T15:09:38.080+01:00

    I really do miss judging other people's children, little ones I mean. Having two young ones myself, obviously I have to be kind and understanding and nod ruefully at the lamentations of various parents about their child's behaviour. There's absolutely no place for judging, no way. Not even when they're shouting in the supermarket (Because Of Additives), or being bribed in the trolley (Filling Them With Additives), or moaning incessantly about wanting something in a shop (Because They're Spoiled) or throwing one helluva tantrum about going to school (Lack Of Discipline In The Home). You see?I have all these brilliant judgements and no one to pour them on. This is because, as you may well have guessed due to the lack of Parenting Pride themed posts on this blog, it's normally my kids doing all of the above, I am not even able to delete any as appropriate.But because my kids refuse resolutely to grow up faster than the average child (despite what it said on the tin), I'm stuck with two young ones, and therefore doomed to be Understanding about everyone elses. Especially ones showing behaviour learnt from my two.Before children I used to have a good old judge of other people's children (and by default their parenting skills) at least once a day. Ahhh, it was a beautiful time of ego boosting as I watched behaviour that my future offspring would never be allowed to get away with. Oh yes, you see I knew all about bringing up children, why, I read the Guardian family section every week, I knew all about the pitfalls of parenting, from psychological damage to paying out too much pocket money. Oh yes, I had it all planned out, including the type of labour they would be expected to do to earn the perfect amount of pocket money for their age.The only light relief I get nowadays is watching the faces of first-time-pregnant mums when we're out and about. Ok, they're still in a place where they may be able to convince themselves that their child experience will be different (because it just will, ok?); they may even be a little smug, still a little judgemental, but in a slightly wary and rabbit caught in headlights way. Oh yes. Because you see they have yet to have their child, their child that may possibly behave in the manner that my child is demonstrating so exquisitely right this minute. They are well aware that Life May Be About To Change. Thus they are extra careful with their accusing glances and even attempt a child-bonding proffering of sweets or hair ruffle in an attempt to say 'ah, it'll be my turn soon ha ha ha ha.'Of course they don't believe this, in their (hormone flooded) heads, their children will be awash with rice cakes and good feeling. They will bring colouring books and sparkly stickers to the supermarket with which to entertain their children in a healthy and absorbing manner. They will even, when pushed, agree to an Organix Everything Free biscuit, but only in emergencies.It is opposite these new-pregnant-mummies that I display my children to the fullest. A peacock if you will, to the pea hen's lair. They daren't complain, they're too busy watching me smirk at their bump and daring them to criticise. I even pull my best parenting stunts in front of them, just to give them some tools for later when their little treasures are burying Bob The Builder in the freezer section. I am adept, you see, at the yanking-one-arm-harsh-whisper-in-the-ear-and chocolate-shoved-in-mouth manoeuvre; regard with Wonder and Approval my removal-o[...]



    Things I Have Said To My Husband Today

    2010-03-19T13:06:57.524+00:00

    • No
    • No thanks
    • I said no
    • I don't want to pull your finger
    • Because I know what will happen
    • I do know
    • Because I've been married to you for years
    • It will not be different this time
    • It won't
    • Because I've been married to you for years
    • And every time you pass wind
    • Pass wind
    • It's the polite way to say it
    • I'm not doing it
    • I don't think I'll be pleasantly surprised this time
    • I'm not doing it
    • I'm sorry if you're getting desperate
    • Stop hopping around
    • I know it's trying to come out
    • Well just go to work
    • And do it in the car
    • Sorry if that's no fun
    • And your boss doesn't like it
    • Your finger does not need to be pulled
    • It's not a biological necessity
    • Or a unique quirk of your physique
    • Please don't try to dance your pecs when you say that
    • I'm sure it does impress your boos
    • And the lady at the checkout
    • Because I've been married to you for years
    • Just get ready for work
    • And put your finger away
    • You will not burst
    • I assure you
    • Stop hopping
    • Oh, ok
    • I said ok
    • I will make it a good one
    • Let's just get it done shall we?
    • Give me your finger
    • There
    • All better?
    • What?
    • What was I supposed to be pleasantly surprised about?
    • Oh
    • Well
    • Yes
    • I suppose it is your best yet
    • Yes aged oak with citrus undertones is what I was going for



    Things I Have Said To My Mother Today

    2010-03-06T14:19:06.980+00:00

    • Oh hello
    • I didn't realise you were coming over
    • No you didn't
    • You didn't warn me
    • Well I'd have remembered
    • And been out
    • Yes I suppose you are here now
    • A cup of tea?
    • Oh OK
    • Yes the milk's fresh
    • What's that?
    • Your own mug?
    • I do wash up properly
    • And use good tea bags
    • You really didn't need to bring your own
    • Why don't you just sit down
    • And stop dusting the door
    • Over there
    • On the chair
    • You don't need to do that
    • Put a napkin on the chair
    • Before you sit on it
    • Because it's clean
    • OK, but just sit down
    • Lovely
    • Errr
    • Mother?
    • Those are interesting boots
    • Hmm
    • Very red
    • And shiny
    • And knee high
    • Yes you were lucky to get them in your size
    • I do like them
    • It's just that
    • Well
    • They're a bit
    • Um
    • Prostitutey
    • It's not a rude word
    • What woman in what shop?
    • Which shop did you go to
    • In town?
    • At the bottom of Mill Street?
    • Err
    • Was this shop woman rather large?
    • And tall for a woman?
    • Any sign of an adam's apple?
    • No, no
    • It's just that it's a transvestite shop
    • Transvestite
    • You know, women's clothes in men's sizes
    • Well some men like to
    • That's how you managed to get large boots
    • Lot's of men do
    • Sorry?
    • I thought you said like dad
    • You did
    • Ah
    • Err
    • I'll just pretend I didn't hear it
    • I'm not being prudish
    • I'd just rather not know
    • Yes I suppose I do know now
    • What girl's day out?
    • You and dad?
    • No thanks
    • I said no
    • I really don't want to join you on your next one
    • Because dad in a dress is not my dream excursion
    • I'm sure he does look very becoming
    • But I'd rather see him in his gardening trousers
    • Like I'm used to
    • I'm very sorry that he finds the look restricting
    • And rather drab
    • But it's just for a while
    • Until I leave the country