Supercalifragiliciousexpialidocious

I'm finding it hard to title my posts.

The weekend is almost done, and I'm going to bed early so that I'm fresh for the working week. There's something wrong about this, exhausting myself from Monday to Friday and then recuperating over the weekend. I'm not the first to say this, but the balance is wrong.

My parents had no real money when we were growing up, yet we had food, clothes, our own home and a (cheap) holiday every year. My Mum didn't work and there were us three kids to look after. How did they do it? I know they were frugal, but they are the first to admit that it would be harder today, particularly with the long hours we have to put in. I made a decision to work less, although it's still over my contracted hours. I get marginally less work done, but it's probably better. When I leave, I feel as if I'm skiving.

How did this happen? I'm a public servant, I haven't got anyone looking over my shoulder to see if I should get a nice fat bonus this year, there isn't one. I don't get as much as a Christmas card from my employer. When we were inspected by the Social Services Inspectorate we were rated excellent, only one of three London boroughs to achieve this. What did we get for all this? A standard letter from the Director.

I was feeling a bit demotivated as I kept seeing and hearing in the media about how crap Social Workers are. Apparently we're complete incompetents, but we should be able to stop any child in the UK being killed by their parents. This stuff makes me feel so angry I had to write to the Sunday Times today. It's one email, but it's the beginning of a new militant attitude. No longer will I tell people that I work for the council, I'll hold my head up high and say:

I am a Social Worker.
I help families.
I protect children.
I work hard for little reward.
It's something to be proud of.
I would like to be independently wealthy so I can hand my notice in.

Mrs McMuffin

cover story

Mr McMuffin and I like to have little story about how we met in the corps de ballet. We were somewhat past our prime as Mr McMuffin had injured his back, and I had just grown too tall for that glittering career.

It was quite amusing to us as Mr McMuffin was quite portly at the time, and being almost 5'10" I clearly hadn't been small enough for ballet since I was 11. We were trotting out this sad little tale to Mr McMuffin minor and his new beau, when the beau told us that he had been a twirly, and had danced in major West End shows until a really bad back injury had forced him to leave. By the time we had heard about the operation, 3 months in hospital and the year where he had to return to his parents to be cared for, I was beginning to think our little bit of fun was in poor taste. Not that the Beau was anything but nice, but it had never occurred to me before that this did happen to people.

I still like the idea of meet deceit, but think we need a new story, something improbable and a tad glamourous. Any ideas? By the way, I have still not found a Russian mail order husband anywhere despite strenuous efforts. I think it's the new Googlewhack.

Mrs McMuffin, keeping our promise to post regularly, Mr McMuffin.

self pity

Contrary to MrMcMuffin's deeply held beliefs I do not cherish illness. I am fond of talking about illness, but only in the past, and never look forward to being unwell. At times I have been plagued by cluster migraine, and ordinary migraine every bloody month. Yesterday and today I had headaches, and today's was so bad I couldn't work or do anything except sleep. What a waste. Why can't I have the 'perfect illness', never actually feeling unwell, or in any danger, but just contagious enough that you can't work?

A good example of this is the chickenpox virus. You can be really sick from this, especially if you catch it as an adult, but sometimes fortune favours you; a single spot, a period of contagion and before you know it you're in the garden drinking wine, guilt free.

It happened to a friend who recalled it as the best moment of her working life. If only I could be so lucky. I'd probably end up like my Dad described by my mother as not having 'a single square inch that wasn't covered in spots', not an image to relish or even dwell on-he's my father, for God's sake.

It occurs to me as I fantasise about the perfect illness, that maybe what I really need is a holiday. Not a fab city break, but a proper week off doing nothing except reading, watching bad daytime tv, and occasionally venturing out to do a spot of shopping. I could also go out in the evening on a week night, I seem to remember doing that =///////////////5 (thankyou for that contribution, Slinky). I think I'll take little Slinky's hint, time to stop indulging and return to my off duty role as a cat bed.

have i told you...?

Have I told you that I am going to be out of work next week? The local authority that I where I have worked for the last three years have decided that I am too expensive and they are 'letting me go'. I am not surprised, really, I think I would probably have done the same thing in their place. I am very expensive. I set up a central placements team for them and have saved them an absolute fortune. It all a bit sad, really, because now that I am leaving, the team is disintegrating. Others are leaving too, and soon, if it works out for everyone, the team will be left with one worker, my deputy, and she is looking for new work too. I can't help but feel responsible for this in some way. Maybe if I had set things up differently? But local authorities are strange beasts. The way the team was set up and the work that I did was entirely dependent on the strengths that I was able to bring to the job. Someone else would have done it very differently. It would probably make more sense if they had decided what it was they wanted someone to do rather than just let them get on with it.

The good news is that I can now leave. I have wanted to leave for a while but the money was too good. I am available for work, if anyone is interested. I had a conversation with someone today, and when I told them I was leaving they offered me a job, earning even more money...so maybe it will all work out okay...still have a few contacts to try...

In some ways it doesn't matter what I do over the next year or so, so long as it pays well. I feel as if I am on the final stretch of a marathon. I am nearly finished my psychotherapy training and recently I have got together with some people I know to begin to set up our own consultancy and training service...It is all very exciting...I can't imagine where I will be in a year. It is also a bit anxiety provoking...How will we pay next month's mortage...fortunately, for me, Mrs McMuffin has a well paying job!

hosts cancel pity party

Enough, McMuffins. Things aren't that bad. It's time to count your blessings and deny the existence of that deep well of pain and anguish! I've been very touched by the nice comments we have received, but I have to say I've re read our posts and they're boring even to little old narcissistic me. I'm at home again, but feeling much better. Not quite well enough for work, but well enough to be prowling the house, bored out of my skull.

One thing that brightened my day was Retro Girl's quiz (would insert link but am too stupid, will get Mr McMuffin to show me how, in the meantime use the existing link). I am Katherine Hepburn, which I think flatters me more than her (except I have made a far better choice of life partner). Having just finished the other Hepburn's biography, I'm certainly no Audrey. She was a very interesting woman, talented, funny, clever, and really nice; not that I'm not any of these things, obviously. I was glad to read that she got the partner she deserved in Robert Wolder, and really want to see 'Two for the road'. Please tell me if it's crap, I don't want to be disappointed.

I'm now reading 'Sophie's Choice', I've never even seen the film, so have got something else to look forward to. My next book is 'Testament of Youth', so apart from my current 'experience of war' obsession, I'm making a real effort to read some of the books I never got round to reading, but always wanted to. There are so many, it's going to take a lifetime, and there are so many new ones to read. I just love books, and don't get me started on films.

Too late, I've started. When I was growing up, my Mum and little sister used to watch 'old black and white films' as I disparagingly called them. I could never get into them, and it sounds so pretentious, but even at that age the position of women in these films used to make me really angry. The problem with this was that I never saw any of the films that didn't treat women in this way, and don't have any real references. It's no coincidence that my top 10 films are all relatively modern, but at least the female characters don't make me angry.

mr mcmuffin is...betty davis

I just did Retro Girl's quiz, and surprisingly, apparently I am Betty Davis. She has to be one of my favourite movie stars. So, a bit of a result really. Click on the photo and it will take you to Retro Girl's site, and the quiz.

Mr McMuffin.

viggo's little shorts

Well, I've used my time wisely today. I've watched 'Blue' again and it's just as good as I remember, and I noticed that her appartment is on the road we stayed on when we went to Paris this summer.

We're now watching 'GI Jane' which is also as good as I remember, particularly for Viggo's homoerotic garb. Well, ok the shorts are standard (dancehall style) issue, but the moustache isn't.

Are Viggo's shorts just too short?

The biggest problem with this film is when Demi says to Viggo 'suck my dick'. Of course it could be argued that she is indeed taking the power of the phallus, and also mocking it, but I think not. How much more powerful would it have been for her to tell him to suck her clit. I don't think they would have got her fellow wannabe SEALs to chant that in the bar afterwards, but it would have been nice. Anyway it's a rollicking good yarn.

stop the debate

A serious moment in the McMuffin household, yet not terribly profound. I'm getting very upset by some of the things I'm reading. I'm not going to name any of the sites I've visited, as they're too numerous, but I'm getting really angry.

I'm very angry that on these sites anyone who is critical of Israeli foreign policy is labelled anti semitic. The people writing this stuff are obviously educated and interested in the world around them, but only up to a point. It's not just online, I've read this in the papers, I've heard it on the radio.

How dare they say this? If you are critical of Robert Mugabe, are you a racist? Tell that to his victims. It's just designed to do one thing, and that's shut you up. If you can't be critical of oppression and violence, wherever it exists and empathise with the victims of this, then I should feel very sorry for you. But right now, you make me very angry.

viggo's little shorts part 2

Sorry, but I have become a bit obsessed with Viggo's little shorts, and I didn't think that the last picture did them justice. I think this photo shows Viggo's little shorts at their best.

ad nauseam

I think Mr McMuffin is enjoying Viggo a little too much. Damn you Viggo, your luxuriant moustache and your little shorts, you have captured my man.

faking it...

So you think you know people? Via the BBC, you can contribute to some psychological research here

tonight, Matthew, I am...

Gloria Steinem. Couldn't resist doing another quizilla, must get a life.

I have a proper day off work today, as it's my birthday. I prefer to avoid work on this day, and it's not to avoid buying cakes, as some evil soul muttered. I will fill their mouths with cake tomorrow, but today is mine.

It started well. Mr McMuffin coughed all night and kept me up until (bless him) he got out of bed and left me in peace. When he left for work, Slinky came in with muddy paws and decided that he needed to sleep on my head. Why my head? Anyway, the bedding needs changing, which leads me to another pet peeve. Why is it that in the majority of female/male relationships, this is a 'woman's job'? Mr McMuffin will do EVERYTHING else but has only changed the bedding about 7 times (usually when I've been away for a week and he doesn't want to reunite with a row). He says he doesn't notice, but that is so untrue.

Before we lived together, I was so impressed. He ran a clean and tidy home, with freshly laundered sheets. After a few months of sharing a home I quizzed him as to his reluctance to complete this one task, and gently reminded him of my initial impressions. I'll never forget his laugh and the sweet way he looked at me...and his explanation? 'Well', he said, 'I wanted to sleep with you!' Aah, the early days of romance.

mrs mcmuffin's birthday

It's Mrs McMuffin's birthday today, and without revealing how old she is, she still looks beautiful to me. I remember her when she was a young stick insect and now she is not so young, but still very slim. I left for work today before she got up, and I left a card and presents for her. It was really hard picking a present for her this year. In fact, it has become harder as each year has passed. All the really good presents seem to have been picked already and all I am left with are the ones that she doesn't really want. Books are always a safe bet. So with that in mind, I got her some new books. I also got her some Bluewater, "Europe's largest shopping centre", gift certificates. I know that sounds a bit lame, but we love Bluewater. It is true that we really wanted to hate it, but it is practically impossible not to love this temple of mammon. You can shop until you drop, have something to eat, and then go to the cinema. Who could ask for more? We are off to have a Chinese meal in a little bit. I am absolutely starving because I haven't eaten anything today. Neither has Slinky it seems. He has been screaming at me since I got in.

Diolch yn fawr (big thanks)

... to everyone who phoned, emailed and commented today. Thanks for the cards and presents, you have made an old lady very happy. Am looking forward to the official celebration on Saurday. We forgot to tell everyone to wear pink as it's Valentine's day too (not really, we're not that controlling, oh no).

It's very strange, as I want to say to Norah and Retro Girl to pop in, have a drink and a slice of cake, and we don't even know each other. This blogging thing is weird as you do develop a sort of intimacy (not that we think we reveal that much) and get a sense of whether people are nice or not. When I talk to my sister about it, she gets all glazed and starts giving me 'you freak' looks. Never mind, soon, Gypsy Tart I'll have you and your little dog too.

it's only me...

I am sitting here at work trying to decide what to do next. I have spent the morning trying to clear up my office. It is amazing how much paper you acquire over a couple of years. I have used the tried and tested method of filing. If I haven't looked at it for a year then it can't be important, and I've chucked it in the bin. It is all a bit strange preparing to leave this place. I have spent the last year or so wishing I wasn't here, and now that my wish has been granted, I feel very ambivalent about it all. Ah, well back to work I suppose...

Backfired

I just found out why Mr McMuffin started the blog. He thought it would get me more interested in using the Mac, and it would make the Mac something we could share. He also thought I wouldn't tell him to 'get off his arse and do something', quite so often.

He now feels that his strategy was flawed. He now has to wait to use the computer because I'm either blogging, or visiting other blogs. Ha ha Mr Machiavelli McMuffin, I am the Prince!

whalerider

aah! It's lovely. it makes you cry, cry a bit more, and then lifts our cynical hearts. The extras show little Keisha's audition, which helps you understand why she was chosen, but not what was wrong with the competition.

The 'Rabbit Proof Fence' extras, by contrast have a huge amount devoted to the search for the right actors. The littlest girl (can't remember her name) is fantastic, and I can't understand why she was initially overlooked. Her attempts to persuade the Director to help her find some lost children are amazing, and have given the McMuffin household many new catchphrases, which MUST be pronounced with an Australian accent. If you haven't seen it, rent it immediately, you won't be sorry. You will also find yourself muttering 'You gotta help me', 'It it it it's dangerous'. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Continuing this filmic post, we finally got round to seeing 'The Last Samurai'. Thank God for Tom Cruise, what would the Japanese have done without him to help preserve their culture and identity? He also gets the girl. Which is nice.

working at home

As I now have a boss (hurrah) I am in the luxurious position of being able to work at home. Apparently I was too important to be spared before. Here's what I have done:

6am to 9.30am-tried to get Slinky to sleep somewhere else by grunting 'piss off' at him. It worked so well that he curled up next to me and never moved.

9.30am to 12.30pm-got up, climbed into nasty blue pyjamas and staggered downstairs. Decided to forego the pleasure of a bath and hair wash as I would then find it even harder not to leave the house. Checked out Norah, Retro Girl and the Machete of whatever catches his fancy. Decided to work in living room surrounded by my papers. Began writing up a review from November, couldn't make any sense of my notes, but treated it as an exercise in creative writing.

Slink jumped on me, began to eat papers. Told him off, he hid in Habitat bag containg files. Jumped back on me, and curled up across my stomach. Finished review, reads well. Emailed colleague. Regretted being lazy last night when Slink started eating what was left on the plate from dinner. Went to remove food from Slink, yowled at me in style of crazed human killer. Backed away. Phoned Mr McMuffin and left message for him to return with supplies and a 'crazed cat trap' from Woolworths. It is amazing what you can get in Woolies.

12.30pm-wandered round house. By now am feeling vile and in desperate need of wash, but determined to stick it out. Can't concentrate on work so begin post. Give up. Go wash.

just a little bit...

Mrs McMuffin has been pestering me to make an entry. I think I have unleashed a monster onto the blogging scene. This is a woman who wouldn't even touch my beloved Mac except to email and do random google searches. Now she is taking over the machine. I can hardly get a look in these days. Anyway, I am typing this on my new wireless keyboard and it is lovely. I am squandering the money I made yesterday doing some training. I wanted to buy a wireless mouse too but they were sold out. I guess I will have to wait until next week to get my mouse.

I don' t have much news, except I finished my job this week. I had a great send off and, for the first time ever, I love all of my leaving presents. A fellow 'puter type went out and chose a whole load of synching and charging stuff for my iPod, telephone and PDA. I am now completely mobile! He/they even got me a tape adaptor for my iPod. Who could ask for more? I should have got the sack years ago. Mrs McMuffin wants me to make sure everyone understands that I didn't get the sack. She doesn't want people to think she is married to a loser. I was 'let go' because I am too expensive. I do have great job lined up in six weeks time. I am seriously toying with the idea of not working for the next few weeks. After all I do have a dissertation to write.

This may all be a bit garbled. I have had a couple of glasses of wine.

That's all for now. I have to start cooking for Mrs McMuffin's birthday party tomorrow. I think maybe I went a bit mad with the invites. We now have about 30 people coming for the small gathering she requested. Ah well, it will be fun, I am sure...

Today he has been mostly listening to...

Talk about passive aggressive. Mr McMuffin has been torturing me with Nine Inch Nails and Metallica today. I have spent many years telling him about the emotional musical abuse I suffered in a previous relationship, and he's forcing me to relive it track by track. Still, I did a good job of putting him off them for the past however many years.

Mind you, it's bringing back fond memories of shaking my stuff to 'Enter Sandman' and 'Hole in the Head', in the days when I thought the height of chic was a stripy T shirt, cut off Levis in the style of Viggo, and big boots. All those Friday nights at 'The Venue' and the night bus back home, full of junkies, drunks and perverts trying to look down the tops of my inebriated friends (Mrs Carrot Cake). Oh, Rock and Roll! South London style.

Anyway, Mr McMuffin and I are going to bring you a spectacular film/music inspired event. As we now have two keyboards we are going to 'Duelling Banjo' them and simultaneously post. It might even be a weblog first.

Wow, am posting fool these days. Why does it take me two minutes to do this, and hours to do the equivalent at work?

'today is a super good day'

Am up bright and early to, wait for it, clean the house, while Mr McMuffin cooks. I don't rate cleaning as an activity, but am loathe to get a cleaner-not sufficiently removed from working class stock to feel entirely comfortable with a pseudo servant. And it's such a dirty house.

When Mr McMuffin and I lived in a modern 1 bedroom flat, the place sparkled it was so clean. It took 2 hours to clean everything. Having impulse bought ( we never thought we'd get the mortgage) this Victorian heap, cleaning it is like painting the Forth Bridge. I'm not joking about this, there are 2 bedrooms we don't even go in.

The problem with the house was that we wore our 'potential specs' (rose hued) when we viewed it. The report said it was fairly sound, but everything needed modernising and decorating. Of course when we moved in, and got the electrics looked at we were told they were so dangerous that they had to be disconnected from the mains immediately. We had a few more expensive surprises. This did not deter us, and we gutted the living and dining rooms, and they look nice now. The main problem is that to finish the hallway, we need to take the floorboards from a bedroom upstairs. This room needs the 'en suite' changed completely and a shower put in. Our bedroom needs everything. We want to move the bathroom downstairs upstairs, but still keep the toilet, we haven't decided if we want the kitchen and dining room as one big room, and so it goes on. We have got to the point of complete standstill, and we are without Stuart.

Our main visionary, workman, cheerleader, suggester of good ideas has gone. He was last heard of living in Italy, and we don't know what to do without him. He's the only workman we trust! Stuart is a bit of a legend in our circles. He has got to the position of only taking work if the clients are recommended to him. He then meets with you to decide whether he likes you, and if he does he moves in until the work is done. he works about 12 hours a day for a fixed fee, then you have to stay up until 1am drinking wine. Every night. He's up at 6am using powertools and we're nursing hangovers. He is very messy too. Last year when I came out of hospital I sobbed like a baby at the thought of going home to the filth, Mr McMuffin had to deposit my still anaesthetised body at my parents' house. It was great, they treated me like I was 7 and I laid on the settee wrapped in a quilt having soup brought to me.

Stuart we need you, where are you?

My sister has now turned up to use my shower, as she and her partner are doing some work on their bathroom. She phoned at 9am to see if Iwas up, my laziness is legendary. She ahas also brought over some books for me as a birthday gift, and apparently has also got me membership of the London Welsh club-fantastic!

i'm beginning to worry that I am perceived by my nearest and dearest as a bit of a war victim story junkie. I have been given 2 copies of 'The Pianist' and a book about the Khmer Rouge! I have to say that I have finally finished 'Testament of Youth' (Vera Brittain), and moved away from war to read 'The Curious incident of the dog in the night time'. It was fantastic. I stayed up late reading it, and when I got to bed, Slinky was stretched on MY side of the bed, with his head on my pillow, and under the duvet. A cat can love you too much. I can't avoid cleaning any longer...

coffee break

Heavens above, the kitchen looks like someone's been searching for weapons of mass destruction. Didn't we used to call them NBC at one time? Actually I think it was an Archbishop of Canterbury who coined this particular phrase some years ago, and let's not forget Bruce Kent who spoke of mutually assured destruction. Who says our clergy is irrelevant?

We watched 'The Straight Story' again last night, what a great film. Poor Sissy Spacek must have thought she'd get the Oscar in that time honoured 'Rain Man' tradition, but it went to the right person. Mr McMuffin expressed a wish for a ride on lawnmower, but as our garden isn't much bigger than one he's out of luck.

Well, I've sent my sister to wrap up the Christmas presents for our other sister and her family. They couldn't make it down for Christmas this year, and expected to come sooner than this, so they just sat there, unwrapped and unloved. I negotiated the wrapping business by holding up my 'Get out of wrapping free' card because of the party. Mr McMuffin also has an 'XY' excuse card for when he says stupid man things. Fortunately that's not very often.

Procrastination over.

done for another year

We had a good time on Saturday/Sunday, hope our guests did too (yes I know most of you visit us here to find out what we're doing, thinking, but do you ever say anything? Oh no, you leave that to Single Cookie). Mr McMuffin's food was fabulous, and well worth the 3 hours it took me to scrub ALL the cooking equipment he used that wouldn't fit in the dishwasher. When he tried to send me out to buy courgettes at the last minute, he almost had the damn stuff inserted in every available orifice.

So it's back to normal, work, eat sleep, try to pass off other's ideas as my own etc etc. I've no complaints about work, I'm feeling loved by my family and friends, Mr McMuffin isn't annoying me significantly,and even Slinky is quiet at the moment. Is this happiness? I think it must be. Either that or I've had a lobectomy or been replaced by a Pod Person ( Mr McMuffin would prefer an iPod person).

finally...

Mrs McMuffin has been on at me to blog. I have been enjoying my unemployment. I had a lovely day today. Even managed to have a little nap this afternoon. I had to go into work yesterday for a legal meeting, and surprise, surprise, I came away from the meeting with things to do. It seems to have slipped everyone's mind that I don't work for them anymore. It seemed a bit rude to point this out to them at the time as they are being prosecuted because of something I did! However, I think I will just ignore them, and hope that I am not named in the proceedings. Mrs McMuffin has become involved with a very unsavoury lot over at The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiller. She has become obsessed with arguing with them over international politics. It is fascinating to watch. The blind leading the blind. These are clearly not stupid people, and I am including the ever lovely Mrs McMuffin, but they seem convinced that there are people in the world for whom their opinion on international politics matter. Mrs McMuffin has warned me that if I am not careful our blog will soon be called 'At Home with Mrs McMuffin'.

Now that I am enjoying a life of leisure, being supported by Mrs McMuffin, I may blog more often...or maybe I won't. Bye for now.

blog whore

Je m'accuse! I have become a blog whore. You visit someone and try a few links, before you know it you've crossed to the dark side. I was so incensed by the Rotweillers that I had to comment. They were not nice to me. I had to make them like me (it's a pathology) so I went back for more. They became nicer, and I no longer think they want to track me down and kill me. I've only visited a few times, I can handle it, I can give up any time I want. Mr McMuffin is an enabler, he's put them on the Safari favourites toolbar under 'nutters'. It's not my fault!

Anyway I think it is important to 'know your enemy'. My Dad buys 'The Telegraph' for the same reason. He thinks that there isn't much point in constantly affirming your own view of the world, you are more challenged by different ones. He couldn't stomach 'The Mail' though, which I think my Mum got to wind him up. She would read out bits of it and he would turn purple with rage. I think that's why they're still happily married, the conflict is political, their happiness entirely personal. Aah, they're lovely people.

self indulgent whinefest on blogs

I have decided not to play with the pack any longer. It's not big and it's not clever, and frankly I don't need to be told why Europe and Europeans are rubbish. I have connected with lots of interesting people around the world by reading their blogs, occasionally posting on some, and frequently on others. Some of the differences are interesting, informative, funny and there's always a place for the amusing insult which isn't really meant to hurt. None of these people make me feel like I have to defend my identity, and that's why that's it for the Rotweilers, it's not fun any more. Take it off the toolbar, I might need a little help!

It is interesting (to me) because I'm so new to this blogging stuff, every so often I have to redefine the boundaries. Our first blog got a bit too intimate, so we scrapped it and started again. This one was supposed to be something that would be a bit like a scrapbook for us. Then I got a bit more into looking at other people's and commenting. Now I think I'm going to scale down on this and stick with the nicer ones. It's a bit of a steep learning curve, and I was always a bit slow!

one hundred years of solitude

Norah Nick has been reading One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I read it a few years ago when my mind was younger, and perhaps more flexible, and I could sit with the magical realism stuff. In the spaces between there is a pretty good story, I seem to remember. I have never been able to work out what you are supposed to do with the fantasy. Are you supposed to interpret it in some way, or just soak up the atmosphere created by the images? I remember the good old days when I used to lose myself in a library or a bookshop. I used to read a lot of fiction, but then I discovered that all of those writers out there are really only re-writing the same story over and over again. An incident occurs which forces the main character to examine their life. Marquez's book seems more complicated on the surface, but really it is just a retelling of this same old story. I think I stopped reading fiction, or rather stopped reading 'serious' fiction, I still read the greats, of course, Stephen King, Dean Koontz and other writers who seek to do nothing more than entertain me with a story, around the same time that I started my training as a psychotherapist. In part, I suppose, I just didn't have the time to read anything else, but really I think I just stopped being entertained by people examining their lives. The struggle of real people coming to terms with their experiences is very often incredibly painful for them and is rarely as straightforwardly reduced as many writers would have us believe. I am often amused by some of the things that my clients say, but rarely am I entertained by the pain and longing that underlies their humour.

I am not sure where this entry is going...so, I'll end it here!

reasons to be cheerful

Good things:

I have finished 'The Pianist' (******) and read the Kate Adie book (***), and have decided to read another of the books MrMcMuffin bought me. On the face of it, it there's nothing to do with war, but I suspect that there will be as I read on.

I tried to spend my birthday vouchers yesterday, but Muji, Mango, Hobbs and Zara wouldn't take them. This looks like bad news, but meant that I bought a skirt and top from Zara and still have vouchers left!

I am more balanced in relation to the Rottweillers. I think they did show themselves to be nice people, despite some of the nutters who comment (including me), but I am not going to visit.

My old manager is moving to Cornwall, this is very sad for us, but good for her.

I am remembering my Mamgu's birthday which was the 18th or 21st of February, she could never remember, so I am celebrating it today. Her death convinced me of life after death in a way that religion can't. Mamgu did not just stop, and I know that she's still looking out for her favourite Granddaughter. Mamgu, I took your advice. I got educated, had fun, and didn't get married too young, but you know this already.

Mr McMuffin has cleaned the house, done the shopping and has a job interview for something he's interested in. The bad news is that he did not change the bedding.

I have done good today at work. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.

I watched 'Calendar Girls' last night, and it was good.

I am drinking a bottle of Hoegaarden. This always makes me happy.

i love this blog...

I have just discovered a great use for our blog. I have invited Mr and Mrs Carrott cake to join us and some other friends for dinner tomorrow, but I couldn't remember what we ate last time they came to dinner. Lo and behold, I had made an entry on our blog about the menu for our last dinner date. I will now not have to suffer the humilation of serving the same dish twice in a row. I have decided that I really need to have a search thingy for our blog, and that I will keep a record of all the meals that we give people. I now have a hankering to go back over our diary to work out what we have eaten over the last few months, but no, that would be just too anal, even for me.

a lovely evening

We just had a lovely evening with Mr and Mrs Carrot Cake and our new to blogging friends, Mr and Mrs Profiterole. I was shocked to hear that Mr Profiterole had never heard of an iPod! How is that possible? Where has he been living for the last couple of years? Anyway, apart from that, I made, even if I do say so myself, a great meal. It started with parma ham, aubergine and red pepper rolls stuffed with ricotta cheese and spinach, served with a tomato and black olive sauce. This was followed by giant salmon fishcakes with spinach and roasted baby tomatoes. Pudding was a Tuscan orange cake with extra thick double cream. We drank a variety of red wines, a sweet wine with our pudding and liqueurs. We also ate a variety of chocolates and Pontefract cakes, which were a strange gift from Mrs Carrot Cake to Mrs McMuffin. It is some kind of odd childhood thing. Mrs Carrot Cake and Mrs McMuffin have known each other since they were about 7 years old.

Mr Carrot Cake told me that while he was reading our blog recently, he decided to do a search to find what a blog was! I think that indicates a certain lack of confidence in our ability to do it right, don't you?

Mr and Mrs Profiterole are new to the whole blogging 'scene'. In fact, they are not yet online. This is kind of strange, because everyone else we know has been for years. However, they have decided that they want to participate on our blog. I am not sure how they are going to do that without getting online, but they are resourceful people, so who knows what they will come up with. Perhaps they will make a satelite dish out of cornflake packets and tin foil, or something like that. I just hope they don't mistakenly build a doomsday device with which they will accidently destroy the world one day. I have seen this happen too many times in the movies. It has to be said that the future can be a dangerous place sometimes.

I think I need to go to bed now, but before I do, I just want to thank Retro Girl for making her mark on our map. I don't mean this in a scary, stalker, kind of way, but I now know where you live!

chums

Continuing with my happiness theme...is Mr McMuffin crushing up prozac into my food? I love seeing our friends, and we're very lucky with them. How often do you know someone for yesrs and then they get on with your partner, so they cross over into the 'our friends' category?

I've known Mrs Carrot Cake and her sister, Single Cookie for almost 30 yesrs, and Mr and Mrs Profiterole for about 18. It is amazing to me that as we've grown up and taken different directions in our lives that we've managed to retain whatever connceted us in the first place.

I met Mr and Mrs Profiterole through my first real boyfriend. We were all into motorbikes, and roughly fell into two camps. Fast, sporty 2 stroke Japanese bike lovers (me ) and big less sporty 4 stroke afficionados. The 4 strokers seemed abit more into the biker 'lifestyle' which I wasn't. Anyway I was at a 'biker' party one time and found myself talking to Mrs Profiterole and another girl who hung out with Angels. This girl was regaling us with tales of her hardness such as 'after he knocked me off my bike and dislocated my shoulder, I put it back in, punched him and broke his jaw'. Now, at this point Mrs Profiterole and I had never really spoken and were a bit wary of each other. After the girl left, Mrs Profiterole raised an eyebrow and we couldn't stop laughing, we've been friends ever since.

Anyway, enough reminiscing, time to get out and get on with our real lives. We're going to take a trip out to Rochester, and I'm going to try and get another giraffe (ornament) as I'm a bit obsessed with them.

no giraffe...

...but, lovely dinner guests, some more gorgeous white linen napkins and table cloth. Unfortunately the table cloth is a bit small for the fully extended table, but will be good when we turn it into a normal sized table. Mr McMuffin is made up, particularly as they were a snip, and as you know he's not showing me the money at the moment. He also bought a butter pat thingy, is he MAD? As if he wasn't already the biggest dinner tart in the world.

We stopped for a coffee on the High Street, and looked at the building opposite which had a dedication to 'Joe Speck, uncommercial traveller 1928'. Now Rochester is chock full of really old stuff which is normally more of a distraction, and we had noticed this before, but this time it intrigued us. I've searched for the man, but can't find out anything about him. It's going to bother me now, so I'll have to find out.

We also saw 'School of Rock'. We enjoyed it. It is not a film for young children, although it was amusing to hear some little ones dutifully repeating the rude words, to the delight of their parents no doubt. My cool nephew and neice would love it, what a shame I couldn't take them to see it last weekend, and now they're back in the dusty North.

help ma bob

I've lost ma banner...I'm nae sure I kept a copy. Oh, help ma bob. [I don't know what it means either, it was just one of those things we used to say in Scotland when I was a kid when something terrible happened.]

the farmer wants a wife

I am beginning to understand why some men fought so hard against feminism. Having Mr McMuffin home full time for the last week has been blissful. The house is clean, the washing done, I have lovely meals waiting for me on my return from work, and Mr McMuffin brought me a glass of beer to enjoy in the bath. He doesn't quite bring me my pipe and slippers, but almost. Well, he's got some interviews this week, but I wish I could afford to keep him home. I want a 1950's style houswife (husband)! So he'd be profoundly depressed at sublimating all his ambitions to mine, and probably a tranquilizer fiend, but I reckon that's a small price to pay for my personal happiness.

I've finished the book, and yes, one of the main characters had his whole family murdered in Nazi death camps. There's no point trying to escape this theme, so I'm re reading 'The Widow Killer' by Pavel Kohout. This is a great book, and I can see why he was so inspirational to the Czech people. Being very shallow, both Mr McMuffin and I were struck by what a looker he must have been when young. It also helps that I've visited some of the locations in the novel, so I feel more of a connection to the story. The first time I went to Prague was with my younger sister, and we had a riotous time, although visiting Terezin put a bit of a damper on the trip even though it was an amazing and terrible experience. We couldn't bring ourselves to take a single photo of the place, and left in deep shock. The second time was with Mr McMuffin who became completely obsessed with the dancing building, attempting to find a decent meal, and Bohemian crystal glasses. I'll definitely go back soon, although I imagine it will be more expensive for us as they're joining the EU. Bugger! I felt such a rich, decadent Westerner for once in my life.

aaaargh

I hate it when I go to bed at a reasonable time and can't sleep. I work really hard to curb my night owl tendencies and be fresh and alert for work (as if they'd notice anyway). Tonight Mr McMuffin's fine cooking would not let me sleep. Mr McMuffin's new found ability to speak Polish whilst unconscious would not let me sleep. The church bells would not let me sleep. Pity me.

pixie

Mr McMuffin is a good man, I don't care what anyone says about him. I have been coveting weather pixies and just happened to mention this morning that I wanted one. Now I got one. If only he could do that with new kitchens and holiday homes in Brittany.

what is this craziness?

I don't think that I have mentioned my recently acquired obsession with downloading music off the internet. When I got my iPod I spent a month or so putting all of our music onto my beloved Mac. We had a fairly respectable music collection of around 750 albums [I really am showing my age, I mean CDs]. My iPod held this quite comfortably, with space to spare. If you remember, the iPod is a beautiful 40GB model. Around the time that I got my iPod I also discovered Bit Torrents, and I found lots of sites that offer, for free, lots of different kinds of music. So, and this is a little oriental nod to TEFL Smiler, I started to download music, and download music, and download music. I have now acquired a fantasy music collection of around 1200 albums. It has got so bad that I have had to buy an external hard drive to store the music on, and I have just been saying to Mrs McMuffin that I really need to buy another external drive so that I can back up the music because it would kill me to lose it all. I think I wrote about this before, I was shocked to find out that I really was 'white rock boy' when put my first 750 albums onto my machine, but now I can hold my head up high with the most catholic of music aficionados...My friend Miss Victoria Sponge introduced my to the wonderful Django Reinhardt during one evening that we had dinner at her house, and, as if by magic, I now have everything that he ever recorded! If the truth be told, this is the only problem with stealing music, and yes, I have not lost all sense of perspective, I know that this is theft [but I just can't help myself], everyone wants to give you complete 'discographies'. At one point I thought 'wouldn't be nice to have a little bit of Johnny Cash'. A few hours later, I was the proud owner of 216 tracks of Johnny Cash music. Now, don't get me wrong, that is not a bad thing, but, does anyone really need that much music by Johnny Cash? Having said that, you will be doing yourself a real disfavour if you do not search out his American recordings. His interpretations of other people's songs are fantastic. His voice has acquired the same depth of soul that Bob Dylan has acquired over the years, and can be heard to it's best on 'Oh Mercy'. By the way, before I forget [as an aside, for some strange reason Slink has forgotten how to push open doors. Over the last few days he has taken to sitting in the hall crying, or rather wailing, until someone opens the door so that he can join us! Ah, the joys of not owning a cat!] Django Reinhardt is truly wonderful and I beseech all of you to seek him out, if you haven't already. It is too difficult to explain what is good about his music, but it speaks to my soul, or at least that is what I would say if I believed I had a soul. I am going to end this rambling post with these words...I LOVE MUSIC.

ugly

I'm a bit bothered that we have so much stuff in the sidebars. While I like them individually, I don't like the look of them all together. What to lose? I quite like the flags, but the pixie is already getting on my nerves and Mr McMuffin is bothered by the graphics too. I think he's going a bit bonkers as he suggested the antidote to all the ugliness was a picture of us! No, no, no, I like our 50's couple, they look a bit like our parents when they were young and good looking.

Today I have been bored beyond belief. I had to attend training on the new database that's replacing our antique one over the Easter holiday. The 'trainers' are very nice, but are getting angry with us as we're going 'too fast'. I have been getting told off a lot for getting ahead of the schedule. I am not a genius, so if I'm finding it easy, then it really is easy. I would like to suggest to them that they are going too slow, but we get off early, and I don't want to lose this privilege. However it is so dull I have been tempted to end my own life by banging my head against the monitor, and even emailed a suicide note to my colleague. It would be slow and painful, but not as slow and painful as this course.

I feel bad now, my sister has just come round and told me some bad news about our friend's mother. I've changed my mind. I'm going to embrace this training, and the rest of my life.

addendum

We promised ourselves that we wouldn't really edit, only correct, but sometimes I cringe when I see what I've written. Oh well, warts and all...

I realised that I haven't welcomed my oldest friend's little one into the world, she hasn't had a mention at all. I wanted to correct this and state that I am so happy that they had another little girl. She is very lucky to have such wonderful parents and sister. I wish that they didn't live on the other side of the world so that I could see them more often. I am very bad at keeping in touch because I want to cry every time we talk, and if I don't talk to my friend I can pretend that we live on the same continent.

I don't think I'm invading their privacy if I tell you about what happened to my friend's husband while he was out and about with their oldest child (who looks remarkably like him). A complete stranger came up to him and said 'Well you don't need to pay for a DNA test, do you?'. How Aussie.

random music

We have been inspired by Steve over at Eat Your Carrots. The challenge is to put your entire music collection on random and list the first 20 songs that come up. You cannot edit the list to get rid of the less cool music.

This is our list:

54 : Mint Royale
Say you will : Foreigner
Springsville : Miles Davis & Quincy Jones
Jeepster : Marc Bolan & T-Rex
Teardrop : Massive Attack
I'll keep it with mine : Bob Dylan
Astronomic : The Young Gods
I can't win : Ry Cooder
My favourite mistake : Sheryl Crowe
Get back : Beatles
Round here : Counting Crows
Hewlett's daughter : Grandaddy
Laughing gas : Nilon bombers
Heartbreak hotel : Elvis Presley
Strange : Alabama 3
No way out : Peter Gabriel
Buck Rogers : Feeder
The bright young things : Marilyn Manson
Punch up at a wedding : Radiohead
Wailing wall : Todd Rundgren

I had no idea that we were so cool. Apart from Foreigner and The Young Gods. I must tell you that Mrs McMuffin bought The Young Gods CD many years ago after suffering from drug induced psychosis at a popular music festival. When she got home and listened to her newly acquired record, she vowed never to do drugs again, and she hasn't. As a little coda to this sorry tale, The Young Gods most recent album received good reviews in the UK press! It is clear from this that Mrs McMuffin was able to spot the potential of this band at a very early stage in their development. Nevertheless, the album we have is truly dreadful!

but I didn't inhale...

...thanks, dear husband. You've made me out to be some kind of junky loon! I would like to point out that drugs and Mrs McMuffin don't go together. However, I do confess to making a very few bad choices when I was much younger. That would be the CD of course.

So much for my resolution to embrace training. Today was pure torture. I developed itchy, scratchy, swelling eyes, and sneezed lots. I thought I was allergic to the training, but I suspect it was early arrival hayfever as there's tree pollen out already.

To make the day complete, Mr McMuffin is being a big baby about going out tonight. He's wailing that he doesn't want to because he's tired, it's too cold (we're not bloody walking!) and he wants to eat chicken. I would normally tell him to shut up and stay in, but he's really got to be there. I now feel responsible for forcing him to go-how on earth did that happen?

i forgot to mention...

I forgot to mention that I got my first ever piece of porn spam yesterday. I was shocked and deleted it immediately, of course. In fact, I bounced it back, so I am hoping that they won't bother me again. I have been online for about five years now and this is the first time I have received anything like this. I have been incredibly careful about which boxes I tick and where I leave my email address. However, within three months of signing up to Typepad, I am now getting porn spam. Is the true price of the using the wonderful Typepad really that I must accept porn spam?

the difference between cats and dogs

This is the funniest thing I have read in ages. You can find out about the difference between cats and dogs here

the truth about cats and dogs

I have to take some credit for opening Mr McMuffin's eyes to the loveliness of cats. He used to identify himself as a 'dog man", but since the advent of Slink is clear that cats are clever, loyal and funny.

I do like dogs a lot and was always upset that we weren't allowed one as children. My Mum managed to persuade us that it was cruel to keep a dog in a (large) suburban garden, as they really needed the freedom of the wilds of Wales. As a result I had to live vicariously through my relatives and friends. I have to say I am bloody good with them. Give me an 'uncontrollable' dog that doesn't have a brain injury, and I will sort it out with firm boundaries and loving attention. Now if only I was that patient with people. I am being harassed by emails at work urging me to complete an evaluation of the training I suffered. I really don't know how to say abysmal and inducing self harm in a helpful way.

I only just found out

Black Books is back. Good.

Our lovely neighbour just came round to ask us to look after Slinky next week as she's got a late deal on a holiday. I had to confess he practically lived with us. She seemed really alright about it. I'm just waiting for the brick.

this is my first post oooeeerrrr

This is my first post, how exciting what's a girl to do. If I won Miss World I would want world peace and a daily supply of chocolate for the rest of my life. My favourite artist is Jackson and I love science fiction. The Stones will always rock.

[This is the first post from one of the several people we invited to be guest bloggers with us at the beginning of our blogging career. Unfortunately, or perhaps that should be fortunately, none of them could work out how to do it.]

slink will not be a guest blogger

I thought it would be a great idea to get Slink to be a guest blogger. For a few seconds it was such fun watching him chase the picture around the screen, and then suddenly, without warning, out came the killer claws and he tried to scratch his way through the screen. For all you cat lovers out there, cats claws and LCD screens do not mix. It is not natural for cats to make guest posts on your weblog. I don't mean that in a weirdly fundamentalist Christian kind of way. While he is pretty good at walking over the keyboard, he can't actually spell. Fortunately, for us, he didn't do any damage, but it was still a little bit scary.