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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Mellow yellow

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I can't believe it! It's True Colours Thursday again, and today our colour is yellow - I've even given my header picture a hint of yellow!

This first pickie I took in the pub on Monday. It's a box of little yellow daffodils which you can wear if you make a contribution to Marie Curie Cancer Care. I'm wearing mine now - the daffodil that is, not the box!

Now I know you are excited. I promised to unveil the painting Giggles did of me in today's yellow post. Well I haven't forgotten but you will have to wait while I show you my other yellow efforts. NO PEEPING!!

Oh, this was funny. I saw a police car and I thought 'look, yellow'. I took a quick pic of it and then suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder (no, not water tap!). I turned round and at first I saw no-one. As you know I'm quite tall and when I peered down I saw a little policeman! They say that policemen get younger every year, but this one looked like a boy going to a fancy dress party! He was so sweet I felt like patting him on the head and tickling him under his chubby dimpled chin. Anyway he wanted to know why I was taking a photo of his little car. I supposed I did look a bit like a terrorist, after all I did have my sunglasses on and the collar of my coat turned up. Once I'd explained why I took it he seemed alright about it, but he did suggest I don't make a habit of taking pictures of cop-cars again!

Last week Keith did an article about Eastbourne seafront. He took a picture of the yellow trucks on the beach shifting the shingle in readiness for summer. His picture was DREADFUL! So I took this one to show him how it's done.

Roll of drums - fanfare - tug on the rope to drop the curtain, and here it is. Giggles picture of me. Cool eh? I'll be using it instead of my photo which I hate. You must drop by her blog by the way. It's a great place to visit, and certainly the most colourful one you are likely to come across.

That's it for this Thursday. Next week it going to be violet. Now that is going to need a bit of thinking about.

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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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Win or lose?

Sunday Scribblings wants us to get lost this week! In the nicest possible way of course.

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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

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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..

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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.
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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!
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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!

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