Monday, 15 December 2008


I have been terribly remiss about passing on awards and joining in with the tag list, it's my shy and retiring nature you see, it just won't let me show off. But I'm going to have a good go and try to think of seven 'interesting' things about Millennium Housewife....And to pass on a few awards.

So, I was lucky enough to be tagged by the lovely Confused Take That Fan and Boy From Oz as well as the hilarious Potty Mummy , 21st Century Mummy and Nunhead Mum of One, all of them blogs I love to read so it doubled the pleasure. As mentioned above I have to write seven things about myself and tag others in return...

So, seven things eh? Sounds familiar, let's have a go....

1. Lust: I was born a mermaid, it was quite a shock both for My Mother and the midwife, they haven't had a live Human to Mermaid birth for 49 years round here. They had to put me in water straight away, luckily one of the nurses found a big potty which sufficed until they could get me to the sea. About eight years ago I was swimming in my lovely glistening bit of water when I spied Husband walking along the shore, I had to have him. Had to. So writhing in lustful thoughts I bought a spell to change my tail into legs. The rest as they say is history. And let that be a lesson to you about where lust gets you. Married to a ginger surveyor, that's where.

Pride: I am most proud of my chocolate collection. I have been adding to it for years and am most diligent in keeping it updated with the latest lines. I keep it on a shelf in my stomach.

Envy: I do envy my sister, she lives in Los Angeles with an extremely large pond between her and My Mother.

Wrath: Buses make me wrathful, I don't know whether it's just the way their headlights are positioned but they always seem to me to look like they think they are much much better than you.

Greed: Husband would say I'm greedy when I won't share my bottle of wine with him. To me it's an invesment in the future, the more pickled I am the less I'll age.

Gluttony: is something I will fight all my life, and it often feels like I have one hand tied behind my back (and the other hand has a large piece of chocolate cake in it).

Sloth: This sin was invented just for me. I LOVE sloth, call yourself slothful with pride and it gets you out of all sorts of things. "why haven't you cleaned the house for a month?" "Oh that's just me being slothful" "Why do we need a cleaner when you don't work" "Sorry, that's just little old slothful me again, got to go I'm off to put my feet up and read a magazine, byee," You get the jist.

So now to awards, I was incredibly lucky to get this from Devoted and would like to pass it on to Rosiero who writes an amazing blog about life with a alcoholic, she is never self pitying, always entertaining and an all round good blogger friend.

I received this one from the wonderful Mud in the City and would like to pass it on to the hilarious Confused Take That Fan, she makes me laugh (loudly), she makes Husband laugh (loudly), tells it like it is and makes me think, phew!

Fabulous Cheshire Wife and Rosiero gave me this one and I'd like to pass it onto Mud in the City, I just love living vicariously through her romantic adventures....

Monday, 8 December 2008

Books I Am Planning To Write

  • The School Run. Why it should be called The School Creep, The School Struggle to Find A ItalicParking Space, The School Wrestle With Coats and Hats, The School Remove Clingy Child From Thigh. Then you can run.
  • DIY for Husbands. Volume one: Bandaging
  • Getting Enough? Sex or sleep, you decide.
  • Baking with toddlers and other ways to ruin your house
  • Why? The Definitive Answer (RRP £1.2 bn)
  • The Joy of Sex and Other Great Jokes Men Have Played On Women
  • The Place Where Curvy Women Are Worshipped (includes free map)
  • Crisps: fat free if you wash them
  • The Only Diet You'll Ever Need: The Seafood Diet. Crisps, chocolate, croissants, chardonnay, cookies, cake, cream, chips, cheese

Monday, 1 December 2008

Eye Eye Cap'n

I knew trouble was brewing the moment I laid eyes on My Mother's friend/critic/enemy Shirley-the-competition. She had new glasses. Not just any glasses, oh no, little gold, shiny, half moon ones, the kind your headmistress wore hanging on a bead necklace that you always imagined she tied her husband up with in bed. Thinking about it now though she probably doesn't anymore, not with the arrival of Ann Summers, and besides she must be about a hundred by now and operating bondage gear with arthriticky hands would probably put them off most nights. Maybe just special occasions and birthdays:
Do you fancy one tonight Bert? (or some other old person sounding name, you're welcome to use your imagination),
Why, what's the occasion Doris? (again, imagination-using invitation proffered),
Another one of those blasted telegrams from the Queen
Oh heck, best get your necklace out then
Shall I do your bunions first to stop them chaffing?
I'll get the sandpaper
Anyway, Shirley-the-competition stood there, half moon glasses perched Dame Edna-like upon her rather pointy and long nose (for sticking into things according to My Mother), staring at My Mother's carrot cake. And this is when it happened, Shirley -the-competition lifted her chin a little into the air (not too much you understand, just enough to let you know she'd practised this in the mirror at home) and peered down over her glasses at the cake.
Hmmm, she said, in her best Church Flower Arranger voice I think you may need to add a little more baking soda next time, it's a little flat this side.
My Mother glared upwards, no doubt spotting herself reflected in the new glasses and not liking what she saw (who does? it's like discovering you are really an upside down spoon shaped potato head), and observed Shirley-the-competition peering down at her. It was as good as saying excuse me little worm and flat carrot cake maker, I am older, wiser and significantly more important that you. In fact, forget my advice about the carrot cake, you're not worthy of it.
My Mother sniffed and moved away from the glare of the glasses and busied herself with a pot plant. I knew then, with a certainty as strong as my liking for chocolate, that trouble was a-brewing, and I scarpered.
The next day My Mother came calling, running the usual finger along the mantelpiece checking for dust, sniffing loudly at the milk before she used it and laying the clean tea towel she'd bought with her onto the chair before sitting down. She cut straight to the point: I've been noticing recently Darling that I'm not quite as observant as I once was, have you noticed anything? Because if you have you would tell me wouldn't you? I mean one isn't quite as young as one once was, and one does know that one's faculties may be fading just a tad (My Mother talks like she thinks the Queen would, personally I think the Queen would have a fit at the interpretation, or at least require a stiff whiskey and an early night with Prince Philip and the necklace). If she had paused for breath at all, just once, I would have taken the opportunity to break in and save her the trouble of the pretense. She wants some glasses. Half moon, shiny, gold ones (although heaven forbid I hope she doesn't want the necklace) just like Shirley-the-competition. How on earth can she be expected to keep Shirley in her rightful place (i.e. lower than her and last on the Church roster) if Shirley uses such a downright unfair prop? Once she had turned so blue that she was forced to pause and inhale, I suggested this to My Mother who looked at me as if I'd just stripped in front of the WI (she hasn't seen the calendar so doesn't realise it's de riguer now). What Shirley has she sniffed, means absolutely nothing to me, I'm simply concerned for my eyesight and was wondering if I may need some glasses. This from a woman who, when we were growing up, could spot a misdemeanor at one hundred paces, it was like being raised by an owl.
There was no point arguing, once My Mother wants something, she invariably gets it, so I've booked her into the optician tomorrow. Now I just have to work out how to slip a pair of half moon, gold, shiny spectacles into the optician's hands without My Mother's owl eyes alighting on them like some unfortunate rodent and guessing that the question of her getting some glasses (albeit ones with plain glass in them) is a foregone conclusion. That and how to explain that under no circumstances is she allowed to keep them on a beaded necklace.