Win or lose?

Sunday Scribblings wants us to get lost this week! In the nicest possible way of course.
I’ve never been very good at games. I don’t really like them very much. Games like Draughts leave me cold and I’m no good at Snakes and Ladders because I don’t like heights. Noughts and Crosses make me tetchy and last time I tiddled a wink my little counter flew out of the window. I even lost when I played Solitaire last night!

But there is one exception. I never lose at Scrabble. As you know I LOVE words. Short words, long words, silly words and words I can’t even pronounce. Take me on at Scrabble at your peril.

A couple of years ago my friends heard about an Inter-pub Scrabble contest and we decided to enter a team. There was me, Jo, Rob and Keith. I decided we needed loads of training so went spent hours doing spelling exercises by playing lucky dip with the little tiles. I have to say, they were pretty useless.

But we persevered and by the time the competition came to our pub I was feeling quietly confident. Unfortunately we were drawn to play against a team of teachers from a local school of English. I was mortified.

My game went well, but the others struggled. They weren’t really taking it seriously enough and kept trying to use swear words and things so as captain I banned all alcoholic drinks during play.

Suddenly things improved. Some very high scoring words came from both sides, and the whole thing became very tense (minimum 5 points!). Three of us had played and it was two nil to them. It was all down to Jo!

We were in the middle of her game and she was beginning to fall behind. You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. It was so quiet you could hear the pub parrot breath. Then suddenly Rob sneezed!

To say he was unpopular would be an understatement because both players jumped out of their skins, bashed into the table and sent the tiles flying everywhere! The teachers said it was a deliberate act so that we could start again, and tried to accuse us of cheating.

Anyway we did start again and this time the teacher facing Jo really went for it. And so did Jo. There was nothing between them. And then it was over.

I suppose you are expecting me to say we lost. After all, that’s the theme of this week’s Sunday Scribbles. But we didn’t - we won!


Down amongst the brown

It’s True Colours Thursday and this week we are doing brown.

I once dreamt that I lived in a chocolate house. It was such a realistic dream. I remember licking the walls and nibbling the mantelpiece over the fireplace. It was then I noticed that the fire was burning chocolate logs, and the heat was starting to melt the ceiling. Then I woke up. I wonder what would have happened had I kept dreaming. I thought of that dream when I saw this picture on deviantArt

I don’t know how men drink it. I’ve even seen girls drinking it. Beer. Not the fizzy stuff in bottles that you see in America and across Europe, but the British beer that comes from a barrel via a pump with a long handle. Ale they call it. Ale or Bitter. It’s always at room temperature and smells like – well, I won’t say in case you are eating.

This is a pint of Keith’s favourite, Harveys Sussex Bitter which is brewed locally, and its sitting on a table in the garden of one of our fave pubs, The Cricketers Arms.

Most girls like clothes shops the best. Some like shops that sell makeup and smelly stuff. I like chocolate shops and the best ones of all are called Hotel Chocolat. I didn’t forget the E, it’s apparently the French way of spelling it which is strange because it's an English company.

As I was saying, they are unbelievable emporiums. There are only 33 in the country and recently they’ve starting selling their wares online in the USA.

And get this – they have a tasting club! Truly. You join up, and every month you get a selection of their goodies through the mail and you fill in a form to say what you like or dislike about them. Now you would think that they would pay you, after all you are providing them with a service. But oh no. You pay them a whopping £180 a year to belong! In dollars that’s errr – a lot! Worth it though.

And finally there is our Prime Minister Gordon Brown, though hopefully not for much longer. I mean, he always looks and sounds so miserable. No wonder the country’s in such a state. Listen to me! I sound a right old moaner..

I don’t know the first thing about politics. In fact when I was younger I thought politics was a parrot shaped clock! .

That’s it for another week. Next Thursday we will be featuring Yellow! I like yellow.


I have seven things to tell you!

Giggles wants me to list seven things that you don’t know about me. Do you think that’s her real name? Giggles? I’m not so sure myself.

It’s not an easy call as Keith has made it his business to tell you everything he can about me during the last year or so warts and all. So it’s on with the jolly old thinking cap!

I’ve thought of one thing. I used to play the guitar. I was quite good, as long as it was in C. Nothing fancy you understand. I didn’t have to plug it in, and I specialised in chords.

I remember one day thinking the guitar felt funny. I could only feel wood under one of my fingers. I thought maybe one of the strings had jumped ship, so I counted them – I had five. Then I counted the little screw things at the top and I had six! How long I’d played with a missing string I really don’t know! Anyway, it sounded alright so I never bothered to get it replaced.

Talking of missing things, I don’t think you know that when I was a child I had a three legged cat. Really!

By the way, what do you call a three legged donkey? Give up? Wonkey!

We got the cat from a rescue place I think. Mummy said we should call it Tripod but I said that we shouldn’t make fun of its missing leg. Well, it trotted with the front two, and it had to hop along on its back one. She then suggested we call it Cassidy and I thought that was quite a nice name so Cassidy he was. It was years before I realised that Hopalong Cassidy was a famous cowboy.

That’s two things. Let’s think? Oh yes, number three. I don’t do a lot of fancy cooking but I do have a couple of Specialites de Rosey. One is Vegetarian Lasagne which is double-delish, and the other is a meat dish which I do when meat-eating friends come round – Toad in the Hole. I don’t know if you have it in Canada Giggles, but it’s a delicacy here in England. Actually, that’s probably a bit of an exaggeration, but I give it a bit of delicate touch!

In case you don’t have it I should explain that we don’t actually eat toads. That would be like eating frogs and only the French do that. And even then they only eat their legs. Yuc. They also eat snails! What? I mean who would want to eat snails? That’s not all. They eat horses.

No, Toad in the Hole is a deep batter pudding with sausages poking their heads above the surface. I have to confess I once made it and forgot to put the sausages in! It was like a six inch deep pancake. Spot the sausage!

Now I’m struggling. Oh yes, number four. I have a beautiful gold and porcelain carriage clock which my Granny left me. It works perfectly well but it is missing the hour hand. I always know when it’s half past, but half past what?

Five, I love jigsaw puzzles but all of my favourites ones have pieces missing. I remember once I tried making replacement bits but it’s not as easy as you think.

Six, I love cycling. Actually Keith did tell you about a cycling adventure of mine once, but I don’t expect you read it. Unfortunately my bike’s missing its handle bars right now. I left it outside the corner shop for a couple of minutes and when I came out – gone, bell and all.

I’ve just realised there’s a pattern emerging here.

Now for number seven. Nothing missing here!

Leonardo da Vinci painted the Mona Lisa. Vermeer painted the Girl with a Pearl Earring and a dodgy looking bloke with greasy hair painted a nude picture of the lady at number seventeen.

But Giggles has painted me! Painted a picture of me that is, she hasn’t covered me in emulsion! As you know I don’t like having my photo taken, so I thought a little cartoon would be a nice alternative. I'll be unveiling it at the weekend and you will be the first to see it – or the second or third depending on when you visit me.

Thanks so much Giggles. My next project will be to do a picture of you! I've found my paints but I can't quite lay my hands on my brushes.

Ps. I'm supposed to list seven people to join me-me in this me-me, but I'm going to ask for volunteers instead. Hope you-you will take up the challenge.


Trust me!

It's Sunday Scribblings time again. I know it's only Friday but I'm ready so here's my piece

Trust me to keep opening my mouth and putting my foot in it.

That’s a funny expression isn’t it? I mean I’ve never seen anyone actually putting their foot in their mouth mid-conversation.

Now I think about it, that’s not quite true because I do it myself sometimes. Not metaphorically either, but actually. It’s one of my party tricks. I’m fairly bendy so I can do it quite easily.

Hey, I can bend over backwards and pick up a glass of wine in my mouth, then straighten up and drink it without using my hands. Cool or what? To be honest I spill more than I drink, but it always gets a laugh!

As I was saying, last time I put my foot in my mouth was when I asked Keith to buy me some peanuts in the pub. Well, I didn’t have any money on me and he’s always loaded. He says he isn’t but I’ve seen in his wallet. Anyway I said I was starving and he said ‘tough’, or ‘hard luck’ or some other put down.

By the way, I wish he wouldn’t make those little comments to me. Mind you I do get my own back sometimes. Like the time at the karaoke night when I predicted I’d win a prize and he said ‘if you win a prize I’ll eat my hat’. And I did win a prize. Okay, it was the Wooden Spoon for coming last, but it was a prize.

So I grabbed the salt, pepper and tomato sauce from the food bar and sprinkled it on his cap. I told him it might make it more palatable! ‘Trust you to do something like that’ he grunted. It was so funny I nearly – well, you know!

Where was I? Oh yes. I was famished, he wouldn’t buy me some peanuts so I said ‘alright I’ll eat myself’ and that’s when I opened my mouth and put my foot in it!




This weeks colour on True Colours Thursday is Blue!

I don't take many photos and I couldn't find any blue ones so this week I pinched them all from Google Images!

BLUE tune

BLUE tree

BLUE moon

BLUE sea

BLUE spoon

BLUE bee!
Next weeks colour is yucky old brown but I'm sure I'll find something.


Me and sport don't mix

I've got to write about sport for Sunday Scribblings this week. I hope you like this piece.'

I was never very good at sport when I was a child. I was a gangly kid, quite a bit taller than my peers with bits and bones sticking out all over the place.

I remember the embarrassment of sports day when I always came last in everything. Although I was very tall for my age I had a problem with brain/leg coordination. They sort of flapped around and my arms kind of joined in.
The egg and spoon race was always a disaster. I simply couldn’t keep the pesky egg from dropping to the ground every few steps. One year I decided to cheat rather than face the annual humiliation of bringing up the rear. I secreted a bit of that blue sticky stuff in my shorts and when nobody was looking I stuck the egg to the spoon!

It was great. I ran for all I was worth legs and arms flailing all over the place and the egg stayed put. Okay, I still didn’t win, but I didn’t come last. I was so thrilled when I crossed the line that I flung both arms up in the air in a sort of victory salute, pointing my egg and spoon toward the sky – and the egg magically stayed in place. I got into trouble for cheating.

I ought to have been good at the hop skip and jump. They call it the triple jump now - why’s that? I hop reasonably well, skip was a bit of a challenge but the jump not bad at all.
Trouble was I always got them in the wrong order! I’d skip when I should have hopped and jump when I should have skipped.
I liked the three legged race. Not because I was good at it, but because we always ended up in fits of giggles rolling on the ground!

Oh I must tell you about this. One year I was entered in the sack race. I put everything I had into hopping along. Hop, hop, hop, higher and higher and I didn’t do too badly. When I got to the end I dropped the sack to the ground and stepped out. Well, several of my friends were laughing at me! Suddenly my teacher rushed up to me and said ‘Rosey where are your shorts?’ It seemed that I had leapt up down so enthusiastically that they had fallen down and remained in the bottom of the sack.

When I went to big school my sports consisted of hockey, lacrosse and archery and I quite enjoyed it. My parents wanted me to take up polo but I think that was more to boost their standing in the local community. Royalty play polo so if it’s good enough for them it was good enough for me!

How things have changed. The school were I work has a non-competitive sports day. I ask you, whatever next? It’s supposed to be fairer towards the less sporty members of the school. But to really succeed in life you need to compete in just about every area, and where better to prepare yourself than in school. It did me no harm. I was useless at sport, but good at English. In that subject I shone. In that subject I always came first.

And that’s not all. This year we can’t do the sack race or the three legged race because the Health and Safety spoil-sports consider it too dangerous. What they are really worried about is possible claims being made against the school if little Johnny twists his ankle or sweet Jessica breaks a finger nail. What strange times we live in.


Let's hear it for Saint V!

It’s Valentine’s Day so I thought I’d drop by and tell you what I got!

I got – wait for it – 6 cards!

I had a pink one with hearts signed ‘xxx’.
A sparkly one signed ‘??’

A little one with a bow signed ‘Guess who’

A big one with a kitten on it signed ‘I’m yours’

A sensible one with picture of roses, unsigned - thanks Daddy!

And a jokey one with this written inside

I love your lips
your eyes so bright
I even love your cellulite

Now I wonder who that was from?

I also got a box of Belgiun chocolates, a bunch of pink roses (whoever sent them knows me well enough not to send red ones) a bottle of Chardonnay with a ribbon tied around it and two wine glasses (how romantic) and a heart shaped helium balloon which I accidentally let go of! If you see one passing over head it’s mine!

And I must mention the huge card I got from all the children in my class. They decorated it with hearts and flowers and inside it just says ‘We love you Miss Pinkerton’ I had a little cry when they gave it to me yesterday.

I hope you are enjoying your day. Happy Valentines!.



Valentines Day!

I’m glad I’m single on Valentine’s Day. I can get heaps of cards without having to explain anything to a jealous male!

That’s assuming of course I get lots of cards this year. But then I’ve done rather well in the past after all.

One card I know I’ll get will be from my Daddy. I know it sounds odd, but there’s a good reason for it. When I reached thirteen or so he decided that his little girl would never suffer the disappointment of a Valentine’s Day without a card dropping on the mat. I didn’t realise it was him for years, but even though I get more than my fair share each year, he’s kept the tradition up and I LOVE it!

Last year I had a card with this verse in it

How do I measure
The love I have for you?
I thought, while idly watching
A sparrow sippin' dew
And as I pondered thoughtfully
I gave my head a rub
And then I thought "Oh sod it
I'm going to the pub!"

Now I wonder who that was from Keith?

We’ve had great fun at school this week. All the kids in my class have made Valentine Cards. Some are excellent and some are a little rude! We gave them a whole lot of verses to chose from and write inside like

What kind of flowers do you never give on Valentine's Day? Cauliflowers!

What do you call a very small Valentine? A Valentiny!

Anyway, they put then in envelopes unsigned, and now they are sitting in a pink cardboard mail box which we’ll open Friday before they head off home.

The best thing about Valentine Day for me though is finding chocolates and flowers outside my door. I have to admit I prefer the chocolates to the flowers but that’s natural isn’t it!

This year four of us are going out for a meal together. We’ll have pink champagne and sexy food like asparagus and oysters, and we’ll have a giggle at all the lovey-dovey couples billing and cooing across candlelit tables.
And then we’ll raise our glasses to being single and loving every minute of it! (until Mr Right comes along!)


A few silver thoughts

This weeks colour on True Colours Thursday is silver.

I found this fabulous picture of a silver angel on deviant art and just had to copy it./

The shimmering boughs of a silver birch

sway lazily in the breeze above a sparkling

stream which dances and splashes

down a stairway of rocks

and glistening stones.

Did I really write that? Heck, I’m getting the hang of this!

Now, Whitebait suggested in a recent comment that I should write a piece about Keith’s silver hair. What a hoot!

Whenever anyone comments about his hair he always trots out the old cliché ‘there may be snow up on the roof but there’s a fire down in the cellar’. In his dreams! I tell him it’s more like slush up on the roof and ashes in the cellar!

Talking of silver and hair, what do you think of this hair slide? It’s from the Northumbrian Holy Island of Lindisfarne and I have been told it’s about two hundred years old – the slide that is, not the island!

Next week True Colours Thursday will be Blue.

silver angel by slekt at deviant art


All Dali could paint was melting clocks and things

I have to write about Art for this week’s Sunday Scribblings.
Do you remember me telling you about the flower and produce show in my parents’ village? One year as well as my vegetables and things I entered a painting in the arts and crafts section. Don’t laugh!

Well a few years ago I joined an art class. Up until then the nearest thing I’d done to a picture was painting by numbers or filling in a colouring book. But my Mum always thought I had flair. She liked the way I added my own interpretation the picture I was colouring . I was flattered of course, but if the truth be told I used to get muddled with the colours and had great difficulty staying inside the lines! She took that to be me expressing myself.

Anyway, I religiously went to the village hall for my classes every Wednesday night and really came on well. I didn’t always understand my teacher’s one word comments. He would say ‘yessss’ or screw his eyes up and say ‘mmmm’

The highlight of the six week course was to be a life study. I didn’t really know what a life study was but I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to appear stupid. So you can imagine my shock when a handsome young man came into the room and took his kit off!

At first I thought a streaker had invaded our class, but when no one else seemed particularly alarmed I realised that we were about to paint a nude. I was SO embarrassed. I didn’t know where to look. Actually, I did know where to look and ....wow....!

I thought I did a pretty good job of it. Ok, my painting was not exactly life like, It was a painting after all, not a photograph. But I was encouraged by my monosyllabic teachers comment – ‘I say!’ he muttered. I took that as quite a compliment.

So back to the village art and crafts competition. I entered my life study, in fact I titled the piece ‘Life Study’.

I didn’t win. The first prize went to my Mother for her dull water colour of a boring bunch of flowers. Second was a landscape which I reckoned was copied from a post card and third was a portrait of a man with big ears. It was called ‘Prince Charles’ but I couldn’t see any likeness - except for the ears!

Just as I turned to walk away a special prize was announced for the most original painting in the competition. As I kept walking I heard the name Rosemary Pinkerton called out. I thought lucky Rosemary then realised the prize was going to me!

I turned to see the Vicar holding up the painting with a huge grin on his face. ‘Strewth’ I thought. The vicar is smiling at a picture of a naked man! Whatever next?

Then he said something along the lines of ‘It’s not often we see impressionist paintings in our annual contest’

I was about to call out that it was not intended to be an impressionist painting, when my friend Keith appeared from nowhere and clamped his hand across my mouth. ‘Don’t say a thing’ he whispered. ‘Just smile and accept your prize graciously’

The vicar continued ‘The judges could not fail to be charmed by this amusing yet understated image of a.....of a.....’

Then he paused, looked at the picture and then at the judges. They all looked blank and old Major Trumpleforth shrugged his shoulders.

He continued ‘this image of .....of......a pig. Yes, a prize pig’

I gave up art. I clearly never was going to be the next Picasso or Constable. I still have the prize, a little silver sculpture of a dog – or is it a cow? I’ve never really been sure.


Oranges are so a-peeling!

This week True Colours Thursday is all about Orange!

I love oranges. Big juicy Jaffa’s, little tidley mandarins. Gorgeous. I adore crepe suzettes because of the orange sauce and duck l’orange is just yummy. There’s nothing like a glass of Grand Marnier orange liqueur, and I quite like Orangeboom Dutch beer even though it doesn’t taste of oranges.

And how about those Terry’s Chocolate Oranges? Whack and unwrap! As for Jaffa Cakes – I’m dribbling at the thought of them.

Orang-utans are kind of orange. Well, I suppose they would be. So are carrots.

I went to a fancy dress party as a carrot once. I already had some orange jeans, and I got an orange shirt from a charity shop. I then decided to dye my hair orange and tie some green ribbons in it to look like leaves! Someone asked me if I had matching collar and cuffs and everyone laughed. I didn’t see what was funny because I was wearing short sleeves and had no cuffs.

Anyhow,I thought the dye I used would wash out but it didn’t and I was known as ginger nut for weeks afterwards!

That reminds me of the time my friend Keith dressed up as the Incredible Hulk for a New Years Eve bash. He used green food dye on his face and hands and arms and legs. But the next morning it wouldn’t wash off and he had to take time off work until he looked less like a lettuce! He was not so much Incredible Hulk – more like Incredible Sulk!!

So, next week our colour is silver. Why don’t you join in?