Trending Tuesday- There wasn’t a chair- Sherries Always Right.

21 09 2016

Stories have connected us to others since they were told through oral narrations around a campfire. It is with great pleasure that I connect you with… Trending Tuesday There Wasn’t a Chair — Sherrie’s Alw

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Friends with benefits – As I see it (by definition).

15 09 2016

definitions

As listed in Graham’s unofficial and less than concise dictionary :0)

Friends with benefits: People who are there when you need them, who will listen, support, and offer a cup of tea if required. (The cup of tea being the benefit).

It’s not you it’s me: What I say when I’ve been waiting in the doctor’s surgery for over an hour, it’s my turn, and some one else stands up.

It’s not me it’s you: What I say when some one lets their wind go and every one stares at me.

Cyber space: That place in everybody’s home where the car keys, phone, spectacles and wallet disappear to when you’re in a hurry and can’t find them.

Bye Felicia: Something I say when I’m saying goodbye to Felicia.

Snap Chat: The type of chats I have when I’m in a bad mood.

There’s Something About Mary: I overheard my local priest saying this to one of his parishioners.

World Wide Web: This is what happens when spiders of the world unite.

Search Engine: This is what I do when the car breaks down and I try to find the fault.

Deadpool: The pool at the end of my garden. There is so much Algae in it all possible life died long ago!

Conscious Uncoupling: This is when I disengage the trailer from the car – on purpose.

eBay: Right next door to D bay.

Free Wheelin: How I would describe the wheel that came away from the front of my car and went off in a different direction.

A Happy Meal: One that I can enjoy in peace.

A Big Mac: A rain coat that is one size too big for me.

Wrinklies: Synthetic clothes that I have put in the washing machine when it specifically states: “Dry clean only”

Getting Jiggy with it: What I do when I’m trying to put a pair of socks on that have shrunk in the wash.

Zigazigah: The sound I make when I’ve caught my finger in a zip and try to free it.

Yahoo: A sound a cowboy makes when trying to round-up cattle.

A calorie counter: A counter with loads of cakes on it.

Smart phone: A neat and tidy phone that I can make phone calls on.

Tablet: I take these when I have a headache.

Chill: I feel this when I turn the heating off and stick my head in the fridge.

Sick: How I feel when I come down with the flu.

Sick note: When I come down with the flu and sing this is how the notes sound.

Deadly: Anything that could kill you.

LOL: Half of a lollipop. Can I have the other half back please?

AIBU: How Abraham, who is dyslexic, spells his name.

Twitter: I hear this early morning when the dawn chorus breaks.

New and improved recipe: The same recipe but with a new label.

How many hits?: A boxer tends to ask this after the fight.

Spotify: Magnified acne.

Download: When I’m carrying something heavy and I need a rest this is what I do.

Pop Socks: A name I have given the socks my father wears.

Spanks: We used to receive these as children for misbehaving.

Jogging: The nudge with my elbow I give to my mother when she has fallen asleep in the cinema.

50 Shades of Grey: A battle ship.

50 shades darker: The water that surrounds it.

Breaking news: News about someone who has broken something. Usually my son.

Dot Com: The woman who lives down the street. She has a sister –in-law named Dot Cotton.

BOGOF: Something I say to someone who is annoying me.

Check this out: This is what I do when I buy something, the cashier scans it and I pay for it.

Take a chill pill: Time to take another Valium.

Politically correct: When a politician says what people want to hear but doesn’t believe a word of what he/she is saying.

I’ll be in touch: Said by someone who won’t be in touch. They are usually good friends with ‘I’ll let you know’.

She’s fit: What I will say about a woman who goes to the gym a lot.

Please hold,  your call is important to us: You have plenty of time to redecorate the house.

You’ve got mail: The postman has just arrived.

The End: Well it is unless this blog becomes so successful that I have to make a sequel. But of course, if I do, it won’t be as good as this one.

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Recommended blogs to follow from Mliae – :0)

14 09 2016

Featured Image -- 725

Great recommendations for blogs to follow as recommended by Mliae. Follow the link.

https://alienatednation.wordpress.com/2016/09/14/blogroll/

Nb: Great Mliae. Thank you for the recommendations. :o)





Blogroll- Recommended blogs to follow- From Mliae

14 09 2016

Featured Image -- 725

Great recommendations for blogs to follow as recommended by Mliae. Follow the link.

https://alienatednation.wordpress.com/2016/09/14/blogroll/

Nb: Great Mliae. Thank you for the recommendations. :o)

Lifexperiment Blog

I had to do it. This is my first blogroll, so I hope I’m going about it correctly. With so many blogs coming and going these days, I thought maybe I should share a few of my reliable favorites which publish good content and have been around for awhile.

The Millionaires Digest These people really know how to amp up my reader! Filled with awesome, relevant articles for bloggers, events & some fun stuff to read too!

Chape Personal Trainer I have David to thank for my recent body transition this year. He’s an awesome trainer and a great friend 🙂 So I stalk this blog for new things to try.

Leanna’s Creative Box Leenna is a super writer and an absolute blast!  Her published short stories will suck you right in. Believe it! 😉

A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales Jacqueline is just awesome 🙂 She is regularly throwing…

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Gone Fishing…

13 09 2016

 

fishing

Back in a couple of days……… :0)

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Rememberance day.

11 09 2016

america

Remembering 9/11. To those we do know and to those we don’t know. Thinking of you all on this remembrance day.

america-3

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Mother – 39

11 09 2016

garden

Whatever you do, don’t ask mother about gardeners. She’s had plenty of them through out the years.

There was the nervous gardener. Would never say when he was coming, would suddenly show up and start work – and mother would only know he was there if she spotted him through the window. Or when he came to ask for payment. He then vanished for good.

Then there was the professional gardener. A small lady with a big hat pulled down over her eyelids that would charge by the hour and take ages to do any job. Mother felt tired just watching her as she struggled to push an electric lawnmower across the lawn. Mother worked out that it was costing her about 20 pence per. blade of grass, she was that slow. The professional gardener was politely let go of.

Then there was the gardener with the bad back. (Bad back?).
He frequently cancelled appointments due to (you guessed it), his bad back.
Mother witnessed him being carried off from the next door neighbours lawn a few weeks ago by two strangers, lifted into his van groaning, hands still gripping his hedge trimmer. He was politely let go of. (And hopefully he let go of the hedge trimmer eventually). As mother said, ‘Fancy doing gardening when you have a bad back’.

Then there was the Texas Chain Saw massacre duo who would only allocate half an hour to each customers garden. I was at mother’s house once when they invaded it, chain saw and lawnmower already running as they charged amok all over the place, chopping down branches and tunnelling out weeds. I fled to the safety of mothers living room and peered out from behind the curtains, imagining what I might look like if I’d gotten in their way. They always refused a cup of tea, always left something behind, and always left mothers garden looking like a hurricane had swept through it.

Wildlife and the frequent cat visitors weren’t seen for days afterwards and an eventual returning dawn chorus sounded more like a nervous titter.

They didn’t return either. Mother had to politely get rid of them (By phone, well away from any dangerous machinery), as they were making her, me and the neighbours a nervous wreck.

At present mother doesn’t have a gardener. Know of anyone?

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Mother (Episode 37)

10 09 2016

umbrellaWe watched a car try to parallel park at least six times before it eventually gave up and sped away. It all happened in front of us, seated on comfy chairs under a canopy in front of mother’s favourite café. ‘There’s enough room there to park a truck’, mother exclaimed before taking a second bite of her toasted tea cake.

This is mother’s favourite spot because as she says it is a great place for people watching. And it is.

A sudden gust of wind turns a well-dressed man’s umbrella inside out. We look down, mother at her tea cake, me at the swirling crème on my café espresso.

Another conversation creeps into our consciousness from a woman seated nearby who is complaining about dating sites. ‘Complete waste of time… or else these men need glasses when describing themselves. And a tape measure … since when did five foot five become six feet one.’

I ask how mother met my father. It was in a ballroom in Streatham. He’d approached her and she’d announced that she wasn’t dancing at the moment. But he didn’t give up and asked if he could walk her home. She’d replied ‘If you like’. And according to my mother he frequently reminded her of the occasion. She’d obviously deflated his ego.

We look out towards the street again and watch a woman with a pram collide with a man on his iPhone. The iPhone escapes his hand and lands in the pram – his determination to retrieve it meeting with the toddler’s determination not to let it go. The mother helps, and the man carries on with his conversation unperturbed. The toddler then screams and throws his toys out of the buggy.

Mother tuts and pushes her empty plate away. She exclaims that all this noise is giving her headache. So we leave and head off to the pharmacy from some tablets, but just as we cross its threshold numerous bottles of shampoo crash to the floor, slide into the aisle, a few stopping at my feet. (More a case of feet and boulders than Head and Shoulders). The sales assistant looks at me, I look at my mother, and she looks behind her.

Consumed with unwarranted guilt we leave, and decide it is time to head home – mother needs a rest. And I do too. Street life can be pretty tiring.

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Mother. (Episode 36)

9 09 2016

light-bulbSure enough just as the evenings become darker all the light bulbs begin to go. Turn on, “Ping”, light bulb blown. Then we have to rummage in the garage with a torch for replacements. Inevitably the light bulbs we find are the wrong ones. Screw turn instead of bayonet or vice versa. And if we do find one it has been tried before and doesn’t work.

I’ve advised mother to throw things away if they aren’t of use anymore, but I suspect this is easier said than done. Mother is from the “Make do and mend”, generation. But how do you mend a light bulb?

Anyway, after what seemed like an eternity of searching I finally find another bayonet bulb. ‘Hurray. Found one’.

However, trying to change the blown light bulb was easier said than done. It appears to be welded to the lamp and after an impatient struggle, shatters.

With dust pan and broom in hand I clear up the glass fragments and head back to the garage for a pair of pliers. ‘Hurray, found some’.

On my knees I try applying the pliers to the remaining bit of light bulb stem. I’m perspiring profusely at this stage and mother asks if I shouldn’t take my jumper off.
I don’t answer, but through greeted teeth finally wrench the remaining piece of light bulb stem away from the lamp stand. ‘Phew’.

With the replacement light bulb in hand I ever so carefully push it down, turn it like a criminal trying to crack a bank safes code, then stand back to admire my handy work. ‘You can switch on the electricity now’.

And mother does, only to reveal a new light bulb shining a rather draining red glow across her living room.

‘You’d better draw the curtains before unwanted male callers start knocking at your door’.

Mother looks puzzled, squints at the red light and announces that she will buy some more light bulbs tomorrow. ‘But thank you for your help. It always looks so much easier when you do it’.

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A magical mid-summer evening…..

8 09 2016

fireworks

I hadn’t expected to see cyclists being ordered to dismount their bikes.
Not in a country renowned for its cyclists anyway.
Somehow we had managed to slip through a police cordon, unauthorised access allowing us to mingle with fluorescent jacketed police officers and avant-garde TV crews.

All eyes were on Restaurant Nimb, white façade, fairy lights, a red and white flag rolling in the breeze directly across the road from the main train station. Two helicopters above it suggested that someone famous was about to arrive. Someone whispered ‘The Russian president’.

But the aroma of French hotdogs, mustard, ketchup and fresh chopped onion got the better us, two specimens chased down by the creamiest, coolest chocolate milk.
“Its nearly 7.30.”

We were running late, but still managed to make it to Tivoli’s main entrance on time.
“Is that … no surely not.”
“Dad?”
“Daughter.”

Turkish Pepper clouds drizzled over smudged Neapolitan sky, Pierrot on stage watched over by Tivoli Guardsman.

Hans Christian was alive and well in this leafy part of Copenhagen, as were my memories of it.

Café Groften looked as it did the first time I visited in 1983, a first acquaintance with snaps inducing an overwhelming desire to sleep, much to the amusement of my hosts – and a waiter who thumped a bottle down on the table right in front of me. “Drink this, it’ll sober you up.” I remember it being a bottle of almost frozen Tuborg.

We settled for a more sober dinner this time. Pickled herring on spongy brown rye bread iced with butter, mineral water, a catch up conversation only briefly interrupted by shrieks from nearby visitors enjoying the rides.

The sun faded, a rainbow appeared over the boating lake, a mid summer evening fire lit in the middle of it – a singer, lungs full, standing on the bridge spanning its width and singing three Danish songs. We sipped coffee from Joe and the Juice and lapped up the atmosphere.

Up a few stairs we were inside the night club – jazz, a reedy voice, oozing from its wood sash windows. Inside, a sauna, smoke filled air, a wet bar, a swarm of people and a distinct aroma of fermenting hops.

Fireworks cascading over the roof of the Tivoli concert hall ended our reunion, but not the memories of it. A truly magical mid- summer evening experience.

 

tivoli

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