Welcome to my world!

But naughty is so much nicer.


Have a wonderful Christmas and I'll see you when we have collected all that coal.

Yule

Today light and dark are balanced. Night and day are in equal measure, but from now on daylight gets longer as we look towards spring.

Today is Yule.

(my winter tree)

In times past Yule, not only celebrated the winter solstice but was also a way to give thanks for getting half way through the cold months of winter. A sort of 'thank fuck for that, we survived this far'.

The Yule log (not the chocolate one, although this is where it originates from) represents heat and light for the winter months - basic human needs that are all but forgotten in our modern, overindulgent society.



So if you don't do anything else to mark this day then light a candle for someone who is still living in darkness.

Happy, happy Yule to you!

... if light turned to darkness,

stars faded one by one,
and if all was dark and quiet,
you would be my private sun.

*

A tale of two markets

It was the best of places and the worst of places, a place of light and dark, hope and despair and a place where no lady should be seen.
It was the market road that lay, on a Saturday morning in mid December, before coffee but after a hearty breakfast with Mrs Crapshot. The mired road lay before her in its usual genial position, winding through the indoor and outdoor markets that held all the promise of the coming season.

"Yoo hoo, gorgeous!" said Mr Zebediah Bullshittin "Four for a pound."

Mrs Minxalot pulled her hat further down to cover her perplexed countenance. Mr Bullshittin and his foreign coconuts were probably not to be trusted on such a morning and she clutched her list to her bosom and hurried on to the inner sanctum of the febrile market.

The smell of fried dead cow and doughnuts assaulted her sensitivities and the call of "Get 'em while they're hot" nearly stopped this small and fragile creature in her tracks. Not a moment could be lost and she neatly side stepped the bargain slippers with their jovial snowmen toes and the stall that held the delights of 'Mr Patel's London Fashions' (she was slightly distracted here here by the lure of a very gaudy, lacy undergarment) and hurried on to her goal.

"Yes, darlin?"

Mrs Minxalot ignored the overly familiar greeting and the overly large, bulbous nose that accompanied it and hurriedly fished in her carpet bag for her eyeglasses with which to decipher her list of purchasing.

"Umm, two genuine velvet flashing Santa Christmas stockings, please, and three of those luxury hats with the cross-eyed reindeer, thank you very kindly."

With her seasonal shopping done, Mrs Minxalot, wended her weary way back to the Gin House for a pint of Mr Gordons' finest and twenty televisual repeats of the X-Factor final.

It was the best of times.

pee ess

Better late than never.
Here is a picture of my screwdrivers. A girl should never be seen without the very latest in screwdriving accessories!


I am not around at the moment because Big Fecker has very kindly shared his ghastly flu disease with me - he is no longer in my will and I won't be washing his socks for the next month.

Please help yourself to a drink while I am quietly dying and leave me a stupid comment to cheer me up!

A bit of a girl

It could be generally agreed that I like shopping.
I also like soft things, shiny things and sometimes fluffy things. I like getting my nails done and wearing nice smells and I can suffer a near apoplectic fit if I can't keep my body hair under control. I wouldn't dream of going out without mascara, matching underthings (apologies - we have trod this path before), or a bag to hold the 101 vital items that I need to carry with me every day.

It could be generally agreed that I am a vain witch, vain in the sense of bothering about what I look like and vain in the sense of "I would rather pluck my eyes out with chopsticks than wear that tracksuit".

I adore watching a soppy film with chocolate and tissues to keep me company but a horror film requires all the lights on and, preferably, a man to check under the bed. I hate spiders, plumbing and anything that smells like engine oil.

Some of you might have come to the consensus that I am a bit of a girl. So why the fuck have I got a set of screwdrivers in me handbag?


.

Well done me

Being English we are not very well known for blowing our own trumpets when we have achieved something. Even if we have not done something that requires a podium and a glitzy certificate we are still a bit crap at acknowledging the small victories and insignificant achievements that we do every day.
I suspect that this goes for everyone because no one throws a party when they have managed to change the bedding, feed the cat and clean the bloody house from top to bottom in under an hour.
So, I am awarding myself a certificate of the day and here are ten things to be proud of today...

• I didn't lose my temper when a work colleague was being a twat over a stapler
• Remembered to give Small Fecker his lunch money
• Hand washed a sweater and it didn't shrink
• I only swore once when I got my scarf caught in the car door
• And only swore twice when I realised that I had forgotten to buy hair conditioner this week
• I answered five emails the day I got them
• I found a long lost beloved sock
• Wrote half a crappy poem in the night
• wrote the other crappy half this morning
• and didn't even mind the crappiness of the whole thing when I can't seem to write a bean at the moment.

Now you.....