About Keithy's Big 500

Hey, have you seen Keith’s blog? He’s just published his 500th post! What? Unbelievable.

Mind you he does spend an awful lot of time hunched over his computer. Take my advise and don’t ever ring him when he’s being ‘creative’. You’ve probably heard him complaining about people who use swear words. ‘Pure laziness’ he says. ‘Shows a poor command of the English language’ he says. He certainly gets lazy if you ‘interrupt his thought processes’!

Oh, I must tell you what happened today. I felt a complete idiot. I was buying a ticket for the train, because I was meeting Keithy for lunch in Bexhill (because that’s where he lives) and whilst I was queuing I couldn’t help noticing that one of the guys behind the ticket counter was pretty cool. Well when I got to the front of the line that funny electronic voice screeched ‘please go to position five’. Guess what? It was Mr Cool’s position! He gave me a lovely smile and said ‘How may I help you?’ I decided against saying the first thing that came into my mind (it was a little rude) and told him I needed a ticket to Eastbourne. He pointed out that this was Eastbourne and chuckled. How embarrassing!

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So I tried again and asked him for a ticket to Bexhill. Then he looked at me with that great big smile and said ‘Single?’

I thought ‘Wa-hey! I think he’s chatting me up’ so I looked him straight in the eye, moved my hand to where he could see I had no wedding ring, and half whispered ‘Yes, single’.

Then he went all serious and started tapping the keys on his machine and a ticket popped out. ‘£4.60 please’ he said. I said it was usually £6.20 and he said that £6.20 was the price of a return ticket. I said that I needed a return ticket so I could come home and he said ‘You asked for a single’. I felt a right prat, I can tell you!

Where was I, Oh yes, Keith’s big 500. That’s it really, not much else I can say about it except that he asked me to tell you that there is a glass of champagne for you if you care to join him in his celebrations. I said that was daft, nobody is going to travel half way around the world for a sip of bubbly. He raised his eyes to the ceiling (the way he does) and said he was joking. And anyway, he doesn’t have any champers. All I got was a bottle of luke warm beer.

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Reddy when you are!

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When I told my friends that this week’s theme on True Colours Thursday was to be scarlet someone said that it was the perfect colour for a scarlet woman. Everyone laughed and I did too although I wasn’t quite sure what was so funny. I thought they were referring to my similarity to Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind – strong, feisty and sexy. Anyway I thought I’d Google ‘scarlet woman’ and I was horrified to discover it means a woman of easy virtue. Actually it said worse than that but I couldn't possibly print it here! Just wait ‘til I see them.

As soon as I saw today’s colour I thought ‘Shopping!’ I’d find plenty of scarlet things to photograph in a decent store. So that’s what I did. I went shopping!
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I just had to buy those scarlet shoes......

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.......but I didn't buy this scarlet bag

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I couldn't resist this scarlet dress and I almost bought some plates and things, but I did resist resist those.

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Would I have made a good air stewardess? I often think I’d would. A dolly with a trolley. I must admit that one of the attractions has to be that gorgeous scarlet uniform the Virgin girls get to wear. But I'd get very embarrassed checking that the men have their seat belts fastened.

Do you reckon black and white are colours? No, nor do I, but that’s the theme for next week. Best put on my thinking cap!

We only wanted a bit of fun!

Oh dear, some of the lads aren’t talking to me. I’m in the doghouse, in the dog poo even.

Well, I thought what we did was funny and so did my mate Amanda. I mean, have you ever been to a football match? Not the American game where huge hunky guys look even huger and hunkier thanks that sexy armour they wear! No, that boring game in which twenty or so hairy sweaty blokes run around in baggy shorts, swearing like troopers whilst kicking a ball backwards and forwards between them.It just needed lightening up a bit.

Anyway we agreed to turn up at the match because some of our friends were playing. Apparently it was the final of some local village competition. Now I’m not talking about a big stadium game. Not even a little stadium game. We met on the village green and stood in the middle of a row of onlookers who were spread out along a white line at the edge of the pitch.

Now, put yourself in our position. It’s cold enough to freeze the do-da’s off a brass monkey. The game was going nowhere with not a single goal being scored in over an hour. And then the ball dribbled straight towards Amanda and me.

We didn’t need to look at each other, we didn’t even speak. We knew what had to be done and we did what came naturally!

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I tapped the ball toward Amanda and then ran back a bit. Amanda nudged the ball back to me, I kicked to Amanda and we were away. At last we were having fun! Both teams came lumbering after us as we ran all over the green and beyond. The footballers tried all sorts of moves to get their ball back, but our footwork was too nifty for them and all they did was trip over their own feet and bump into each other!

Then Amanda pointed towards the abandoned football pitch with its two empty goal net things. We knew what we had to do.We ran straight for the pitch and Amanda booted the ball high into the sky right over the heads of the lads. They just stood there looking up, helpless to do anything. It was like slow motion. Then it fell from the sky right above me. I just butted it with my head and the ball shot straight into the centre of an open goal!

Now, there are two schools of thought about what went on that day. The football fans say that we ruined the most important game of the season. We say that thanks to us it turned out to be the most entertaining game of the season. Right now the jury’s out, but I’m sure we’ll have the last laugh – just as we did on the day!

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An arresting performance!

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Sunday Scribblings this week wants us to write about 'Listen up' We don't say that here, but Keith reckons it's ok if we just say 'listen'.

This was so embarrassing. I was with my friends having a drink as I often do and the landlord, Jack flapped his hand in my direction. I thought he was giving me a little wave, so I waved back.

Then he did it again and put a finger up to his lips like you do when you want someone to say nothing. Odd I thought, then I realised he was discreetly beckoning me. Anyhow me and my big mouth. ‘Jack wants to see me’ I said. I instantly realised by the scrunched up look on Jacks face that I’d done the wrong thing. Mind you his face is pretty scrunched up anyway, but this was kind of double-scrunched.

So I changed the subject by way of a distraction, and then said I had to go and powder my nose. That’s a funny expression isn’t it? My Mother always says it when she needs a pee. She doesn’t powder her nose at all!

So I walked over to the bar, checked that wasn’t being watched and stood with my back to it the way private detectives do in the movies when they want to pretend that they are not talking to anyone.

‘Tss tss - Rosey’ Jack hissed. I’m not sure if that’s how you spell a hiss but I’m sure you get my drift!

‘Why are you whispering? Jack?’I asked.

‘Shh’ another hiss. ‘Listen, I need to tell you something’.

I leaned against the bar and Jack approached my shell-like ear. He whispered something.

‘You’ll have to whisper louder’ I said, and several people turned in our direction.

Well, I couldn’t really understand what he was saying. It was like ‘listen carefully, this is very important’. Then he carried on and even accidentally spat in my ear which was not very pleasant.

I worked out that he was planning a surprise for some girl’s birthday, and knowing that our group are always the life and soul of the party he wanted us to start cheering and clapping when a male stripper dressed as a policeman arrived in the pub. I explained to my mates what we had to do.

I must state here and now that I don’t approve of such things. But I daren’t say anything against it because I get teased.

Anyway an hour or so later a ‘policeman’ came in. Quite a dishy one actually. That was my cue. ‘He’s here’ I said and we started shouting – well, I didn’t shout, but the others were shouting ‘strip strip strip’.

An red faced girl wearing a big badge with 21 on it and a pink helium balloon tied to her wrist was dragged from her chair and plonked down on a stool in front of him, then everyone except me formed a circle around them. Jack turned the music up loud. I did not particularly want to witness this lewd spectacle so I stayed in my seat.

Then someone said something behind me. I turned round and there was another policeman. ‘This is the Three Bells isn’t it?' he asked. 'If so they seemed to have double booked’

It was when the first policeman put his walkie-talkie to his mouth and starting shouting for assistance that I realised I’d made a mistake.

No one was watching me, so I slipped away.
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It's no laughing matter

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There’s a club in Eastbourne called The Screaming Blue Murder Comedy Club. At least I think that’s what it’s called. Odd name really. Murder and comedy don’t normally go together! Having said that the compare did say to one of the acts ‘go knock ‘em dead’


So yes, I went to the SBMCC with a group of friends. Well, I can’t tell you – I’ve never heard bad language like it. And some of the so-called jokes were really rude. At least I assume they were jokes. I didn’t find anything particularly funny about them, but then jokes aren’t really my thing, not ‘my bag’ as they say.

Trouble is I don’t always get jokes. Actually that’s an understatement. I rarely get jokes.

For example or par exemple as they say in France. Oh, that reminds me, did you see Keith’s blog about on-line translators? Well I used one of them just then so I probably didn’t say ‘for example’ at all! He used to have a translator in the sidebar of his blogamy-jig but I noticed that it disappeared a couple of days ago. I guess he was worried about how his posts were translating!

Where was I? Oh yes. Jokes. I was going to give you an example of the problems I sometimes encounter in the hope you will tell me that I’m not as stupid as my friends think I am.

One of our group of mates works at the local crematorium. One night when we were all at the rub-a-dub (that’s cockney for pub by the way) I joked that she’s lucky she doesn’t work in 'dying trade', although hers was a bit of a 'dead-end job'. I thought that was quite amusing but the others just groaned.

Well that night she invited us all to her staff summer party. It was to be a barbecue at the crematorium. The others all laughed their heads off! Ok, I know it’s a little ironic having a barby in the crem, but not very funny. In an effort to join in I made what I thought was a mildly amusing comment. I simply wondered if we would be using the cremator thingy to cook our food to save that all that fuss trying to get the charcoal to light. Once again I was laughing and they were not.

Then John said ‘I’m not putting my meat in there – I’m fussy where I put my sausage’. And they laughed so much that Sandy started choking on her wine and John said she was having a coughing fit. Afterwards I realised he actually said ‘coffin’ fit, but even then I didn’t find it particularly funny.

Do you see what I mean?

Oh I just thought of something. The other day I said I would be unveiling the painting of me that Giggle’s done at the weekend. I didn’t forget, I just decided to use it in my piece for True Colours Thursday so you’ll just have to wait a couple more days.

So back to the crematorium thing. I did actually have the last laugh because I suddenly remembered a joke I’d heard some time ago.

There was an old man who always stirred a spoon of gunpowder into his cup of tea. One day he died and at his funeral were his wife, three children, six grandchildren and a fifty foot crater where the crematorium used to be.

We all laughed at that!
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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’.

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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!.

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Wooooo, woooooo - scary stuff!

I wrote this for Sunday Scribblings
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I noticed the clock on my kitchen wall had stopped. Apart from that, the morning was pretty much the same as any other.

I rummaged through the drawer in search of a new battery. I found AA’s, D’s and an old No.6, but the only A I came across was a lumpy sticky one!

Anyway I carried on with my routine – showered, got dressed and had breakfast. Toast it was. I prefer croissants, especially the pan-au-chocolat type, the straight ones with square ends and two chocolate worms through the middle, but I didn’t have any.

As I’ve told you before I have a bit of a short term memory problem. That’s why I often end my blog posts with a different subject to, woops, from the one I started with!

Where was I? Oh yes, I was just about to put my coat on and leave for work when I looked at the clock on the kitchen wall and thought ‘Oh, I’m early. I’ll have another mug of coffee’. It was only when I switched the telly onto News 24 I discovered it was nine o’clock and I was very late for work!

But when I got to school the children were still arriving! ‘How odd’ I thought. ‘I’m not late at all’

It was a normal kind of day and on my way home that afternoon I purchased a couple of new batteries for the clock.

When I walked in the door it felt odd. I can’t say exactly what it was, but something made me shiver. It was a really strange sensation.

I took my coat into the bedroom, and there on the floor was a white bed sheet, the one I’d folded up and placed on the chair the day before. Again I shivered, I don’t know why.

I joked with myself about there having been a phantom in the house while I was away, and a strange aura had remained!

I remembered being told once that ghosts pop white sheets over their heads when they want to be seen. When I told my friends they all laughed, but I thought there may just be some truth in it.

And right then the hair was standing up on the back of my neck. At least I think it was. I’ve never actually seen the hair on the back of anyone’s neck stand up!

I then noticed that the TV was turned on. It was tuned into Ghostwatch on Channel Four. Now I know I am in the habit of forgetting to turn it off so I wasn't entirely surprised. But ‘weird’ I thought, because the last thing I watched was BBC News 24 this morning. I was now getting more than a little spooked.

I went into the kitchen to get a bottle of chardonnay from the fridge and I noticed a cereal bowl with a few soggy cornflakes in the bottom. But I’d had toast for breckie and had fantasised about pan-au-chocolat. And the mug – it was half full of cold tea. I’d thought I’d had coffee.

Something was playing with my mind. I grabbed a jar of dried garlic to keep me safe – I didn’t have any of the real stuff, but I hoped it would have the same effect.

I was feeling a little shaky so I went back to my bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. It was then it happened. I could not believe my eyes.

The white bed sheet on the floor began to move!

I was petrified.

Then slowly a head appeared from underneath the sheet, a fluffy head with big round eyes.

It was my cat Fuzzybutt looking as frightened as me! Then a tail appeared from the other end of the sheet. I couldn’t help laughing – it looked as if Fuzz was six feet long! But it was Scruff’s tail. They both came out and jumped on my lap. They were shaking.

‘Let’s all pull ourselves together’ I shouted. I stood up and the cats jumped onto the floor. I remembered the battery for the clock and thought that then was the perfect time to stick it in. So the three of us went back to the kitchen.

And then the oddest thing of all. The clock was merrily ticking away. And not just that, the hands were showing the right time. ‘Oo–er’ I thought. Fuzzeybutt and Scruff looked up at me with their tails between their legs.

What happened that day, I really don’t know. Did time stand still? Did nothing I thought I’d done actually happen? Had a spirit – a phantom been in my home?

I guess I’ll never know, and if you believe that story you’ll believe anything!

My pilgrimage

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As soon as I saw the prompt ‘Pilgrimage’ on Sunday Scribblings my mind went back to my schooldays. I remembered the hymn that was our school song, To Be a Pilgrim.

I just looked up the words because it occurred to me that when I was a kid I had no idea what the song was about. It was all written in Olde English with heaps of words that meant nothing to me. Even now I’m struggling a bit!

I can remember that we all found the name of the writer a bit funny. Well, when you are ten you are bound to find someone named after a swollen toe somewhat amusing. Who on earth could be called John Bunion even if it is spelt Bunyon!!

Actually I’ve quite surprised myself. I remember that it was written in sixteen forty-something, about the same time as Keith’s fave pub The Five Ashes Inn was built.

I also recall that 'Billy' Bunion wrote it in prison as part of his book Pilgrims Progress though I can’t remember why he was there.

I also know that someone altered the words, and someone else, Vaughn Williams I think it was, changed the tune!

That reminds me of the character Trig in that TV sit-com who was a road sweeper and said that he’d had the same broom for twenty years and it had only needed six new heads and four new handles!

Looking at the words again I realise that the second line says Let him in constancy, not Let him incontinently! I also thought there was something about fancy flees in the last verse, but now I see it’s when fancies flee away.

I also thought that the third line of the second verse was about no foes staying the night. Wrong!

My journey through school was a pilgrimage. It was a journey beset (I like that word) with angst and acne. They say that the journey is more important than reaching your destination, but in my case the getting to my destination was one of my life’s greatest moments. I made it – I left school!
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He who would valiant be ’gainst all disaster,

Let him in constancy follow the Master.

There’s no discouragement shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent to be a pilgrim.

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Who so beset him round with dismal stories

Do but themselves confound - his strength the more is.
No foes shall stay his might; though he with giants fight,
He will make good his right to be a pilgrim.

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Since, Lord, Thou dost defend us with Thy Spirit,

We know we at the end, shall life inherit.

Then fancies flee away! I’ll fear not what men say,

I’ll labour night and day to be a pilgrim.

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Memorable mnemonics

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I was doing some laundry the other day and I noticed water all over the floor It seemed to be coming from the cupboard next to the washing machine. Strange I thought. I looked in the cupboard and I saw it was squirting from the pipe which sends water to the machine.

Now I’m a pretty practical person. Usually I carry out minor DIY things around the flat without too much trouble. Ok, I did have a problem when I smelt gas. It was dark so I looked for the leak with a cigarette lighter. I needed to re-grow my eyebrows anyway so it wasn’t a problem.

And I once I drilled a hole in the wall to put up a shelf and I hit an electric cable. My friends said that frizzy stand-up hair suited me.

I was pretty confident with the leaking pipe because I remembered a mnemonic. Mnemonics are sentences that help you to remember spellings, useful bits of info and things.

And I remembered how to spell mnemonic because of a mnemonic - Macabre Neanderthals Eviscerate Mammoths On Nocturnal Icy Coasts, or an easier one is Monkeys Never Eat Mayonnaise On Noodles In Canada.

Anyway, I knew I had to tighten the pipe so I said ‘Lefty Loosey, Righty Tighty’. Unfortunately I was a little over enthusiastic and I tightened it too much causing the connection to come off in my hand, and I ended up looking like a drowned rat.

Talking of mnemonics, when I recently wrote about birds I was a little unsure about the difference between rooks and crows. I looked up the mnemonic and it goes ‘a crow in a crowd is a rook. A rook on its own, is a crow’. That led me to look up others.

If you can’t decide whether to use Affect or Effect just say RAVEN – Remember Affect Verb – Effect Noun!

And Fahrenheit temperatures to Centigrade ‘30 hot, 20 nice, 10 cold, 0 ice!’

How to spell Necessary – one collar, two socks!

I after E except after C - but not in Keith, weird!

Draw a circle in the air – Never Eat Slimy Worms, North East South West!

Here’s one I learned at First Aid classes so I’d remember what to do in an emergency – DRAB stands for Danger, Response, Airways, Breathing. I can’t quite recall how it’s supposed to help though.

The order of the planets - Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto, My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas!

To spell Rhythm – Rhythm Helps Your Two Hips Move

If you have any favourites I’d love to hear them!

By the way, the plumber who came to mend my washing machine pipe was a really nice guy and very understanding.
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One plain one purl

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I thought I’d give an update on my knitting. I am getting quite quick at it now. I found this wonderful wool shop inside an indoor market and I thought you might like to see a picture of it.
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They also sell all sorts of other crafty things as you can see from this picture. Incase you are wondering, that’s not me standing at the counter. Well, it couldn’t have been, I was taking the picture!

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Anyway, I made all my friends little cell phone socks for Christmas and I was chuffed to see everybody using theirs when we all met up the other day.

My latest project has been a pair of gloves. Very complicated. You have to make sure each glove has five fingers. Then I joined them together with a long piece of elastic which I feed through my sleeves so I won’t lose one.

Unfortunately when I tried them on for the first time I realised I’d made two left hand ones by mistake. So now I’ve got to make two right hand ones, and then I’ll have a spare pair.

Actually Keith always says he gets cold hands at work, so he might like them. I know they are pink, but I’m sure he won’t mind. I saw his laundry drying the other day, so I know they wont be the only pink things he wears.

That reminds me, I saw a man the other day who was wearing one brown shoe and one black shoe. I commented on them and he said that he had another pair the same at home. Actually that’s a fib. I didn’t really see him, it was a joke someone told me.

I’m looking for unusual things to knit and if you can give me any ideas I’d be well pleased. Things like place mats, lamp shades and even a cover for my computer.

I was thinking earlier that as my fruit bowl is always empty I could knit some bananas and apples. Grapes might be a bit difficult, but oranges very easy. Well, they make decorative artificial fruit from other materials so why not wool?

I do eat fruit, in fact I love fruit. It’s just that I keep it in the fridge ( I thought I’d write that in case Mummy reads this!)

I tried a pomegranate the other day. What hard work. All those pips and all that squirty juice! Never again.

What’s that fruit that stinks? I had it on holiday once. I remember – durian. Wow, what a pong. I am told however that they are an aphrodisiac. They wouldn’t be if they were in the same room that's for sure.

A few years ago I tried planting some apple seeds. They didn't grow.

I must get back to my knitting now.

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I think I believe in Father Christmas

I’m dying to tell you about my Christmas stocking! When I woke up on Crimble day, there it was on the floor by the wall exactly where it would be if I had a chimney, only I don’t.

It was bulging! Now if you are thinking ‘silly mare, she filled it herself on Christmas Eve' then you obviously didn’t read my composition called Things I like about Christmas because Thing 2 (or was it Thing 3?) explained that I buy and wrap my own Santa presents a year in advance. It is well documented that I am somewhat challenged in the memory department, so when the time comes to open them I’ve forgotten what I bought! Clever or what??

As I was saying, there it was on the floor and I was so excited that a little bit of wee came out! How embarassing.

Then Fuzzybut and Scruff jumped up on the bed – they must have realised that Santa had brought them some gifts too, catty things, you know.

The first thing I got was a backscratcher! I love it, it’s like a finger on a stick. Then I un-wrapped a CD. It was by Basshunter and called ‘Now You’re Gone’. It was number one in the charts last January, but I obviously forgot it would no longer be number one when I received it.

And then out popped a squeaky rubber mouse. I guessed that must be for the cats, although I must admit I quite like it myself. Just think of the fun I could have with that in the pub!

And then came a packet of cigarettes - Santa clearly didn’t realise that I gave up in March. That was followed by a miniature bottle of vodka, so I took off the top and necked it!

And then a sort of muesli bar. The excitement was making me a little peckish, so I tore off the wrapper and took a bite. Yuk! It tasted dreadful. I picked up the wrapper and saw the words ‘Canine de-worming treatment’. I spat it out; Scruff sniffed it then ran out of the room.

There was a lippy, a Snickers, a notebook, a game.
A pen and a key ring, a brooch with my name.
A hair clip some chocolates a book and a comb.
A toy for the cats, and a photograph frame.

Right at the bottom there were some nuts and an orange – Father Christmas always left me those when I was little. And that, as they say, was that! Oh, I forgot the hat! A red Santa one with a sprig of plastic mistletoe that hangs over my head! You never know who might pop round.

So that’s it. On Monday I’ll go shopping for next Christmas’s stocking fillers. I’m just waiting for a call from Father Christmas telling me what to get!
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