Well these were some of the gloriously happy scenes that greeted England’s victory over Sweden on Saturday, repeated up and down the country. We watched the match at my brother’s place and what a super day. And it happened the day after my lovely sis H got married to J which was also a great day. So a fantastic few days eh, especially for us. But the great thing is the effect England’s progress is having generally. Everyone seems to be up for it and excited at the prospect of tonight semi-final against Croatia. Shop assistants, waiters, check out girls. Everyone wants to know where are you watching it. I guess it’s that history in the making thing. Well at least potentially because a loss tonight will be gutting. Well except for maybe a few people in Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Australia etc etc.
Well if the camp Strictly posting caused a bit of a fuss, I suspect this one is going to land me in deep doo doo too….
I’m always fascinated by people who like gadgets and the latest technology; it’s like they’re drawn to shiny new things like magpies. And I love to hear how essential these items are to their lives, as if everything up to this point has been empty and meaningless. Ha! You’re probably thinking from my tone that I’m being incredibly sceptical and dismissive but far from it. I sort of get it – after all you’ve often heard me rave on about my wonderful desktop, iphone and tablet – all from Apple. They are essential to me and I am gutted that my laptop has finally died. Plus I like German cars and reliable broadband service. So there you go, I’m not a complete technophobe. But there are certain things that I can happily live without….
Well after an action-packed horrific return posting on creatures attacking my manhood, this is an altogether more reflective piece about getting old. Sigh.
Hello again dear readers. Well that was a bit of a break; partially inspired by work commitments and also because my last postings created such critical comment. I was trying to be light and amusing whilst making a serious point but I failed on all counts and stood accused of one or two very nice traits, like misogyny and homophobia. Hmm. Not what I was aiming for to be honest, nor what I’m like. So I figured that if my writing was causing so much offence I’d better take a wee break. Anyway I’ve reflected and just fancied getting back being ranty and opinionated again. And as a treat I’ve got a charming little subject upon which to re-open my blogging account. It’s caused me discomfort, a little nausea, some incredulity, a bit of embarrassment and a nasty little after-feeling. Retribution, some might say.
So I’m doing some consultancy for a local marketing company (it’s a great story for another posting) and they’re doing this Secret Santa thing for Xmas in the office and they’ve kindly invited me to join in. They’re all such young guys and I’ve just hit the one age that nobody wants to hit, ever, because you turn into this Old And Past it person. Argh. So I can remember events from back in the Middle Ages and I was drawn to get something interesting for a fascinating young woman who wasn’t even born when Glenn Hoddle lost his job as England manager and Tracy Emin exhibited her unmade bed at Tate Modern. Yes she’s that old.
So last week-end we had a busy old schedule; a drive up to Northwich, Cheshire on Saturday for the marriage of C’s neice which was designed and entirely produced by lovely G and her top husband M on the theme of a retro afternoon tea party – brilliant. Then a blast back down to Colchester in Essex on Sunday to my lovely cousin K and cool husband A’s place as they were hosting a barbie for my dad Bob, who happened to be having a holiday in Westcliffe. It was a bit of a surprise do as Bob wasn’t aware that we and all our daughters and grandkids were attending as well as my cousin C and her daughters. It was a real gathering of the southern and rapidly expanding section of my family. I have to say that at both events, separated by hours of yet more week-end motorway traffic, we had a really super time. Both events were bloody fab. Continue reading