So, with Christmas done and the crap from the January sales finally gone, the shops are in need of an array of cheap and tacky tat to adorn their shelves before the Easter eggs come in.
Oh, look, what's that on the horizon? It's Valenetines Day.
A pathetic excuse for the emotionally retarded to show their significant other how much they love them by the giving and receiving of a bear holding a plush heart.
Is it just my stomach that lurches at the thought of it?
Now some of you, reading this, may have jumped to the conclusion that I am a withering spinster, spurned by love and festering in my dusty old house, surrounded by too many cats. You may not believe my assurances that I am, in fact, happily married with two kids, but that fact is this:
Valentines Day is a Hallmark honey trap.
Hubby and I have shunned this offensive tradition for many years now, I do not need a tacky card or an overpriced bunch of forced roses to know that my husband gives a shit. Every day for the last twelve years he has told me that he loves me, genuinely, looking me in the eye without blinking.
Hallmark can't say it better than that.
Our corner shop has a seasonal stand near the till, a cornucopia of gifts for the desperate late night shopper. A scented candle, that smells of wax. A pink rubber duck that lights up. A small bear holding, yep you've guessed it, a plush heart. If you held his paw you could record a message for your loved one.
Someone had road tested the one on the shelf. If you pressed the heart it said 'You smell of shit.' It wasn't me, I swear.
Sunday, 5 February 2012
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
Sunday, 22 January 2012
Things My One Year Old Would Rather Play With
. . . than the hundreds of age appropriate and educational toys provided for her.
1) plastic bottles from the recycling
2) the TV remote
3) two wooden spoons and the hall radiator
4) coat hangers
5) a wireless keyboard dongle
6) the CD rack
7) a smelly trainer
8) a tissue box
9) junk mail
10) the mop
1) plastic bottles from the recycling
2) the TV remote
3) two wooden spoons and the hall radiator
4) coat hangers
5) a wireless keyboard dongle
6) the CD rack
7) a smelly trainer
8) a tissue box
9) junk mail
10) the mop
Sunday, 15 January 2012
The Iron Lady
I am so glad that someone has made a film about this formidable female icon of British history. I am even more thrilled that they found an American actress to play her and that it will hit general release before the real life Baroness pops her clogs. Perhaps, in a moment of clarity, Baroness Thatcher will see the film and, looking past the rosy glow of hollywood, feel sorry for those who suffered under her reign.
The Poll Tax riots
Privatisation
The Miners Strike
The Falklands
To name but a few of the ecomonic and political horrors we, as a nation, suffered under Maggie Thatcher. A iconic figure of hate in her conservative blue suit, stepping on the working classes in her patent two inch heel. Many will not mourn this woman when she shuffles off her mortal coil, I would say there may be a queue of people outside the cenotaph with their dancing shoes on waiting for the moment this woman is put in the ground.
Let's hope the film does well anough to allow the profits to pay for the lavish state funeral to be awarded this beacon of misery. But, no, it is perhaps a fitting end to have that bill fall at the feet of the tax payer. Her final insult to the working class.
The Poll Tax riots
Privatisation
The Miners Strike
The Falklands
To name but a few of the ecomonic and political horrors we, as a nation, suffered under Maggie Thatcher. A iconic figure of hate in her conservative blue suit, stepping on the working classes in her patent two inch heel. Many will not mourn this woman when she shuffles off her mortal coil, I would say there may be a queue of people outside the cenotaph with their dancing shoes on waiting for the moment this woman is put in the ground.
Let's hope the film does well anough to allow the profits to pay for the lavish state funeral to be awarded this beacon of misery. But, no, it is perhaps a fitting end to have that bill fall at the feet of the tax payer. Her final insult to the working class.
Sunday, 8 January 2012
Sunday, 1 January 2012
Dissolve the Resolve
Okay, I admit in the past I have trashed the whole resolution idea, being the dissolutioned old cynic that I am. But if you had to listen to as many people as I have as they harp on about the mental line they have drawn in the sand between them and their demons, you'd be cynical too.
The biscuit addict signing up to Weight Watchers (again), the forty a day smoker stocking up on patches (that they're never going to use), the scatterbrain buying her page-a-day diary.
I am not a kill joy by nature but I have grown weary of nodding my head and making those affirming noises that people need to hear, while knowing categorically that in a matter of weeks we will be here again, sat at this same table, having that other conversation about what went wrong.
My general (and relatively uneducated) feeling is that people are full of noise but that annoying clatter rarely amounts to positive and contructive action. I have lost count of the people I know whose New Year's resolutions have gone the way of the do-do by the first week of Febuary while the people who have succeeded in their goal, well I could count them on my nose. "Count them, Jim. One."
I personally threw in the towel on the resolution thing years ago, not through fear of inevitable failure, but because January is a stupid time to make these promises to yourself. It's freezing outside, blowing a gale, the tele is the best it's been all year (not saying much, granted) We've just spent the last two weeks stuffing our faces with rich food, chocolate and booze turning the twenty pounds we were planning on shedding this year more like thirty and the gym is full of treadmill hogging wankers.
We are doomed before we even begin.
I took to publishing an accomplishment list, stating things I had achieved in the previous year but, although we have a new baby and I'm now a fully qualified dispenser, 2011 has been otherwise uneventful. So it would be easy to fall back on old habits, listing resolutions for next year that I will struggle to keep and then feel like a failure when I fall short of my own exacting standards or I could list the things I DON'T want for next year and hope that this list written by my own hand (well, two finger peck) will stand as a reminder to my weaker self.
1) I don't want a wardrobe where 80% of the clothes don't fit me.
2) I don't want to spend every day doing what other people want.
3) I don't want to miss out.
4) I don't want to sit on my half finished novel for another year.
5) I don't want to teach my kids bad habits.
6) I don't want to lose any more friends to apathy.
7) I don't want to worry about money all the time.
8) I don't want to apologise for being myself anymore.
9) I don't want to be too tired to enjoy my kids.
10) I don't want to care what people think.
I hope 2012 brings you all a little more of what you want, a little less of what you don't but, above all else, good health and happiness to you and yours.
The biscuit addict signing up to Weight Watchers (again), the forty a day smoker stocking up on patches (that they're never going to use), the scatterbrain buying her page-a-day diary.
I am not a kill joy by nature but I have grown weary of nodding my head and making those affirming noises that people need to hear, while knowing categorically that in a matter of weeks we will be here again, sat at this same table, having that other conversation about what went wrong.
My general (and relatively uneducated) feeling is that people are full of noise but that annoying clatter rarely amounts to positive and contructive action. I have lost count of the people I know whose New Year's resolutions have gone the way of the do-do by the first week of Febuary while the people who have succeeded in their goal, well I could count them on my nose. "Count them, Jim. One."
I personally threw in the towel on the resolution thing years ago, not through fear of inevitable failure, but because January is a stupid time to make these promises to yourself. It's freezing outside, blowing a gale, the tele is the best it's been all year (not saying much, granted) We've just spent the last two weeks stuffing our faces with rich food, chocolate and booze turning the twenty pounds we were planning on shedding this year more like thirty and the gym is full of treadmill hogging wankers.
We are doomed before we even begin.
I took to publishing an accomplishment list, stating things I had achieved in the previous year but, although we have a new baby and I'm now a fully qualified dispenser, 2011 has been otherwise uneventful. So it would be easy to fall back on old habits, listing resolutions for next year that I will struggle to keep and then feel like a failure when I fall short of my own exacting standards or I could list the things I DON'T want for next year and hope that this list written by my own hand (well, two finger peck) will stand as a reminder to my weaker self.
1) I don't want a wardrobe where 80% of the clothes don't fit me.
2) I don't want to spend every day doing what other people want.
3) I don't want to miss out.
4) I don't want to sit on my half finished novel for another year.
5) I don't want to teach my kids bad habits.
6) I don't want to lose any more friends to apathy.
7) I don't want to worry about money all the time.
8) I don't want to apologise for being myself anymore.
9) I don't want to be too tired to enjoy my kids.
10) I don't want to care what people think.
I hope 2012 brings you all a little more of what you want, a little less of what you don't but, above all else, good health and happiness to you and yours.
Sunday, 25 December 2011
Next Christmas
Dear Santa
Thank you for a wonderful Christmas, all the lovely the presents, the delicious dinner . . . hang on, that was all down to me. Next year could you send the Christmas fairy to take care of all that so I can just put my feet up and enjoy it? Oh, and could I have Christmas Eve off rather than spending it stood in a shop being shouted at?
While you're at it, could you also make me worry less about other folk, take more time for myself and make people feel obligued to shower me in gifts in thanks for the hard work I put in all year making every other f**ker on the planet happy.
Other than that, booze and pyjamas would be fine.
Yours sincerely
Sharon
xxx
Thank you for a wonderful Christmas, all the lovely the presents, the delicious dinner . . . hang on, that was all down to me. Next year could you send the Christmas fairy to take care of all that so I can just put my feet up and enjoy it? Oh, and could I have Christmas Eve off rather than spending it stood in a shop being shouted at?
While you're at it, could you also make me worry less about other folk, take more time for myself and make people feel obligued to shower me in gifts in thanks for the hard work I put in all year making every other f**ker on the planet happy.
Other than that, booze and pyjamas would be fine.
Yours sincerely
Sharon
xxx
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