Hurly Burly - No Mall & No Builders!

As far as possible, I will avoid any commotion, hurly-burly and busy places, especially since I retired from work. Sometimes things happen and I find myself somewhere I’d rather not be with no immediate escape and I have to grin and bear it.

With the exception of Springfield Mall, Virginia – going back many years when such places were new to me – I don’t like shopping malls. Warm and dry on a cold, wet day they might be, but bustling and noisy does not give me a pleasant shopping experience. My friend and I once got lost trying to find a way out of Manchester Arndale. We rushed one way, then another, back-tracked, or thought we were, and eventually asked a security guard. By then we weren’t bothered which exit, we’d find our bearings outside and we did. When our daughter was about thirteen she wanted to go to the Trafford Centre for her birthday treat, shopping, lunch there, everything possible. We had to do it. Luckily, she loved it and enjoyed spending her birthday money, having the promised lunch, but it was all in the over-crowded, loud hullabaloo that made me want to scream. I might be the only person who doesn’t like the Trafford Centre. I can live with that. I would probably hate Springfield these days.

It doesn’t stop at shopping malls. I can’t cope with having workmen in at home. Running repairs are alright and our usual heating engineer is very welcome when it’s time to service the boiler. Workmen with a capital W means builders and a team of them, taking over and making a mess, making a noise, either voices or machinery. As the family grew and more space was needed, it seemed like a good idea to have extensions here, there and everywhere which meant weeks of disruption. The end results were worth it. The house we move into will be staying exactly as we find it.

This Dr John Cooper Clarke poem reminds me of being lost in the hurly-burly of a pre-Christmas Arndale Centre,

Trouble @ t’Mall

 

Daily Bugle – Front Page News

A drunken posse on a booze cruise

Swear me in I got nothing to lose

High five – low morale

Trouble aye trouble aye

Trouble @ t’Mall

 

I heard about it at the Taj Mahal

I nearly choked on me Taka Dahl

I quizzed Chief Wiggum and he said, “Waal

Cuff ‘em boys – trouble at the Mall”

 

Tripe stand bloody fell over

Its covered the place in a beefy odour

Better take a nosegay pal

Trouble aye trouble aye

Trouble @ t’Mall

 

Bury my heart at Clinton Cards

Remember me to the old guard

These days you just gotta be hard

Because like they say in this here locale

Trouble aye trouble aye

Trouble @ t’Mall

 

H & M is full of flunkies

And Tony and Guy couldn’t give a monkey’s

In the dying words of Gore Vidal

‘Appen it’s trouble aye

Trouble @ t’Mall

JCC

Thanks for reading, Pam x

Read More

I Am the Queen of Excess

Where would you like me to start?  With the wardrobes full of clothes in every size, every colour, every style? With all the food I've eaten over the festive period?  Or with the piles of diet books and magazines I've accumulated over the years?

Although I aim for it, I'm not very good at the 'happy medium.'  In fact, I am the Queen of Excess.  Don’t ever offer me the box of chocolates with a casual, “ Would you like one?” 

I will smile at you and turn away virtuously, whilst a loud angry voice inside my head is yelling, “ONE?? ONE?? ONE’s no good to me! Go away, and leave me with them all.  Come back in the morning for the empty box!” I’m afraid it’s all or nothing.  And judging by the tightness of my jeans since Christmas it’s been an ‘All’ kind of season.

I don’t often do dinner parties these days, I’m too lazy, but when I did I would buy and cook enough food to feed at least twice the number of guests (even the greedy ones).  Now I’ll have informal suppers, but I’m not happy unless I’ve got back up food filling the fridge and freezer – and at least half a dozen bowls of snacks before we even start to eat a proper meal.   I've watched friends stagger down my front path at midnight, clutching their stomachs.  At least two have had accidents requiring A&E, although I suspect the liquid refreshment might have been to blame, and not the abundance of food.

For about the past thirty years I’ve cooked Christmas dinner (with a few reprieves).  This year we were having dinner cooked for us, which meant no festive entertaining other than a small gathering on Christmas Eve.   I heaved a great sigh of relief.  No frantic food shopping for me in the run up to Christmas, I thought smugly.  An unprecedented calm settled around me. I looked on sympathetically as people raced past me in town, clutching huge Iceland bags, their faces reflecting worry and exhaustion. I felt sorry for these poor saps, filling their fridges and cupboards (and ultimately their bellies) with all sorts of over indulgences.

That feeling of calm lasted until I found myself in Sainsburys at 8.30am a few days later, desperately hurling food into my trolley.  I knew then I was a lost cause.  Extra large packs of peanuts, huge jars of pickled onions, giant boxes of Quality Street, enough milk, cream and cheese to open a dairy, and for some reason, a family size packet of frozen chicken gougons and sate strips – what was that all about?  I didn’t come up for air.  Like a mad woman I barged my way past sweet old couples cooing over chocolate Snowmen for the great grandchildren, frazzled looking mothers trying to remove Christmas baubles and selection boxes from their over excited kids, and a single man carrying a basket containing a mini Christmas pudding for one, a single chicken breast and a small Toblerone.  I envied him but I did have to wonder at the sort of person who buys a SMALL Toblerone. 

You see, that’s not my style.  If you’re buying one, go straight for large; if you’re buying two then you might as well have half a dozen.  If it’s a BOGOF that’s even better.  I’ve only recently realized that my obsession with buying things in even numbers is just that – an obsession.  I don’t know when it started but I do know I feel very uneasy if I just buy one and not a pair.  I have been known to leave my shopping on the conveyor belt and hurtle back down the aisles to collect another jar of beetroot to accompany its partner by the till.

Pondering on this blog earlier today, I began planning meals for the coming week, opening cupboards and peering in the fridges and freezers (note the plural – more excess, I am ashamed to say: two fridges, three freezers).  It dawned on me that we could probably survive, in the event of a nuclear explosion, for at least a few months without shopping, feeding ourselves on meals that would continue to be healthy and nourishing but no doubt become more and more bizarre as time went on.

Now, please excuse me while I count how many pairs of black jeans I possess.  Don't wait up for me, I could be some time. 

A Greedy Person's Haiku 

by Jill Reidy

Just one chocolate

Eat it slowly, savour taste

Sorry, no way, mate!

Thanks for reading      Jill 

Read More

Brain, don’t fail me now! Oh! You just did!

I had always thought I was good at remembering things, but when the time came for me to do my own grocery shopping for the first time, my brain decided to step out for a while.  That’s how it has been ever since.  It will generously allow me to remember stuff like Birthdays, Anniversaries, appointments, telephone numbers and Bank Account details most of the time.  But items needed from the shop?  No!  Not a chance! You know how guys hate going shopping?  Well that’s my brain!  I once bumped into Ash in a certain well known supermarket.  I was in a world of my own desperately trying to recall what I needed when he said hello.  It took me a minute to realise that someone was talking to me, then another moment to realise who it was, my brain struggling to switch between my own little world and the real one!  I seem to recall an amused expression on his face at the time.
 
I’d never been one for writing lists, but as I’ve got older, I find it has become a necessity, mostly To Do Lists and Shopping Lists.  I also write my appointments on my calendar, although that didn’t stop me forgetting one last week.  Thank God for my Mum, who reminded me in the nick of time!  I’ve come to the conclusion that it all boils down to age, and tying in with last weeks’ theme, information overload!  As an advanced society, we’ve managed to complicate our lives to the point of ridiculousness.

One of my favourite poems’ is “Leisure” by W.H.Davies.  So taking his words on board, I’m making time to “Stand and Stare” and have a little chill out time to clear my thoughts and remind myself of the simpler things in life.  I think we all need to do this once in a while. De-clutter, de-stress and the mind flows much more smoothly.  Perhaps then I’ll be able to remember what I went shopping for ….. 

I must, I MUST remember …….

Why is it I can remember Birthdays?

Bank account and telephone numbers,

Anniversaries and appointments?

But when I’m shopping my memory slumbers?

 

It abandons me quite suddenly,

While I’m standing in the supermarket,

I stare blankly at the Brussels Sprouts,

As my neurons spark and then short circuit.

 

What did I come in for?

I’m sure there were at least a dozen things!

I wander the aisles aimlessly,

In the hope inspiration springs.

 

Was it: eggs, potatoes, milk and sugar,

Ham, Apples, juice and spread?

Or was it none of the above at all,

Just toilet rolls and bread?

 

As a result I end spending money

On items I didn’t need to buy.

At home I’m well enough stocked in ketchup,

To keep me going ‘til the Apocalypse is nigh!

 

I must, I MUST remember

To write a shopping list

And when completed, pop it in my purse

So, when I go out, it can’t be missed!!

 

 
Lists, I’d be lost without them!

Read More

I just haven't got a clue what to do

This weeks theme is LISTS.

To be honest, I'm not very good at TO DO LISTS. If I  make one, I forget to look at it, or I forget to make one in the first place.

This is the only way I would ever succeed with a TO DO LIST

1. Make a TO DO LIST
2. Do at list one thing on your TO DO LIST
3. Go to the pub to celebrate crossing 3 things off your TO DO LIST

I'm not very good with other kinds of LISTS either. SHOPPING LISTS make me buy stuff I haven't written down. FAVOURITES LISTS drive me mad because I can never choose a top 5 anything without arguing with myself. Sometimes my personal discussions escalate and I end up taking myself outside for a fight, which I'm also not very good at and have lost the last five times this has happened.

I tried making a HIT LIST, don't kill anyone. I had a go at a BUCKET LIST but gave up after I'd acquired a yellow one with a blue handle. I even wrote a THINGS TO DO BEFORE I'M 50 LIST but then realised I'd actually achieved most of them already.

It's safe to say that LISTS and me do not get on. It's just not how my mind works.

LIST OF LISTS (found in this blog)

1. TO DO
2. SHOPPING
3. FAVOURITES
4. HIT
5. BUCKET
6. THINGS TO DO BEFORE I'M 50

LIST OF LISTS (not found in the blog, but are now in this blog due to this LIST)

1. WORST
2. WISH
3. WAITING
4. PROS & CONS
5. CONTENTS
6. NEW YEARS HONOURS

Read More