Sunday did a boot-sale.  Not a punter a seller.

 

Got all my rubbish out of the loft - been there years.  Not me the rubbish.

 

It was so hot one thought of the tropics, and those films where they wear white suits with  hats and sweat a lot.  Sorry horses sweat, men perspire and ladies glow.  Anyway I was glowing.

 

Sold loads of stuff and went home with it seemed as much as I took.  Made £70.00.   It was hard work - was there 6 hours.  Luckily I had one of those hats but I wasn't wearing a suit.

 

There was a purpose for the booty - I needed a decent haircut and Monday went into Fareham.  Walked into a salon called Nirvana - I liked the name - sod what the stylists were like.  They happened to have an a space for a cut and blow dry.  The guy that did my hair looked liked he just left school.  But I lived in hope.

 

Any way - what a lovely cut.  Well worth the money.  Feel rejuvinated.  Note to self - must do this again.

Farrah Fawcett  passed away - that is so sad.

 

Don't need to show a photo of her - who can forget a Charlies Angel.

Parked at the Marina - it's free.  Then a 10 mile hike to central Brighton (actually it's really 2 miles).  Felt like 10.

 

Walked past the terminal for Volkes Railway - the oldest electrically operated railway in the UK.  Thought I might take a ride to town but at £1.70 single thought better of that.  Anyway went on it when I was about 8, also sang on the stage at Peter Pan Playground.  Could never sing but I did so much want a lolly - that was the going rate for a kid to sing.  And in this case you got the lolly whether you were good or bad.

 

So walked into town, past the nudist beach, which is heaped up with stones like a crescent moon so you can't see anything.  Spoilsports.    Walked through Pool Valley into East Street, stood and watched the regular artist outside the expensive but rather ordinary restaurants at the bottom of the Lanes.  They're overrated, actually not rated much at all in my book.

 

Headed North up East Street.  Odd that - especially as East Street runs South to North.  Planning was pissed again obviously.  Crossed North Street into the Pavillion Grounds.  Strewn with bodies, eating soggy sandwiches and smoking.  Children chasing the pigeons.  Went West and headed towards the North Lanes.  Now anyone who knows Brighton understands that the North Lanes is the in place - mainly because it's cheaper.  Very arty, very studenty and touristy.  Eeeeee!  I love the area.  One can get pierced, pissed, painted, and predicted to all on one street. 

 

Took loads of pics then headed back up St. James' Street to Kemp Town.  Another great area.  The Gay area of Brighton.  And that's why it's so great.  Colourful.  With gorgeous unobtainable men standing around - what a waste.  Anyway have a look at the pic of 'Doggie Fashion' - a shop that has little jumpers for the pooch in your life. 

 

Then back to my car and the long drive home to Hampshire. 

 

Went to Brighton mainly to get the feel of it again - do I want to move back there?  Not sure. 

 

 

 

Manfred has now been confirmed as being run over by a car and was killed.  It's very sad as he had a gorgeous gentle personality.  I will miss him very much

 

 

 

 

 

My week off seems to be going too quickly.  It's Wednesday already.

 

My outing today cost £6.75 plus the petrol to get there.  West Dean is near Chichester and a tad down the road from me in West Sussex. 

 

I have to say that the gardens in the grounds of West Dean College were superb.  The best £6.75 I've spent in ages.  From the wonderful greenhouses, showing me how terrible my tomatoes are doing compared to theirs, to the glorious Downs views.  The Pergola is wonderful and pics are attached.  I'm certainly going to go back and next time I will do the 2.25 mile walk through the landscape park, I'll take my boots that time.

 

Can't recommend this place enough.  Couple of pics here but the rest in my album

I'm on holiday this week.  Not going away - it's too bloody expensive. But I'm damn well going out. 

 

Today I went to Winchester - which is around the corner from where I live.  My plan was to visit the charity shops, walk along the river and then have lunch at Loch Fyne - they have specials you know.

 

So the charity shops had nothing of interest this time - but I'm getting exercise having a little walk.  Then went along the river for a tad.  I'd packed the proverbial stale bread in my handbag for the ducks.  There was not a duck in sight - zilch.  Mmmm!  Saw a robin and I love robins so out came the bread.  I didn't know ducks had trained in undercover covert operations.  From nowhere 20 appeared.  It was lunchtime so they had bread and water.  Then to my amazement I spotted something brown - no, this is not reminiscent of Caddyshack and the twix - I squinted (note to me - get some new glasses) - it was a water vole.  Dragging a pile of debris into his den in the bank.  How wonderful.  They are quite rare these days.

 

Next I did a detour and went to see the Catherdral.  Did consider going in but they want £6 entry - and as I am such an athiest I saved it for lunch, no-one was around to change my wine into water.  It's a beautiful building - admired it from the outside.  Went around the back and on the wall nearby were lettering and the date 1620.  I touched the letters and followed the shapes.  Just as someone did nearly 400 years ago. 

 

Then off to Loch Fyne at the top of the town - in the 16th century jailhouse.  They've done a bit of decorating since then and it's ambience is very nice.  They usually have some sort of deal going.  Today was a starter and main course for £12.00.   I always consider costs but thought damn it - I won £6 on Euro lotto Friday, so blow the expense.  Ordered a glass of tap water and a glass of dry house white. 

 

I had fish soup and it was orgasmic, followed by grey mullet with salad.  The mullet - I just closed my eyes and tasted the freshness - wow.  On a dreadful note - bearing in mind I'm an alchy.  The glass of house dry white was not cold enough, not dry enough and was chemical in it's taste.  As the cost was £4 a glass I think it should have been half decent.  I sipped a mouthful and sent it back.  Asked for a glass of Pinot Grigio - can't go wrong with that or or so I thought?  I didn't have the heart to tell the young girl serving it was the same wine as before.  God it was awful - sent that one back too. 

 

The tap water was brill just needed a miracle to turn it into wine.  The food was superb for the price - then the bill came.  Damn cheek - they'd charged for two glasses of wine.  Sent the bill back.  They didn't question it - reduced it down to the £12 for the grub.

 

Note to myself - along the road from Loch Fyne is Greens.  So have fish at Loch Fyne - pay the set menu then go to Greens which is a great wine bar and their Pino Grigio, which is a tag dearer, is fabulous.  Also I have eaten then in the past - very cosmopolital, the chef does things like lasagna, mousakka,  green curry etc.  The foods is great too. You can get away with a really good meal and glass of great wine for about £15.00.   But today I fancied fish.

 

 

Today, Sunday was gorgeously sunny, however, this has to have been the most windy day this year.  And today I decided to put up the £33.80 plastic lean-to greenhouse from Argos.  There she blows comes to mind.  Anyway.

 

I read the reviews 90 of them - actually I only read half-a-dozen.  Good comments.  The lean-to greenhouse got 4 stars.  I noted that everyone said - ignore the instructions just look at the pictures - I always did like comic books.  And I remembered the girl who wrote - "it can almost be put up by one person".  I discovered what she meant by 'almost' when I took forever and a day to encompass the bones of my greenhouse with the plastic cover in gale force winds.  Note to all future buyers - wear it as a dress, think of  Marilyn Monroe, without the sexy look, and lift it over the structure - worked for me.

 

Went on to busy myself planting tomatoe plants and cucumber which I'd grown from seed.  And an aubergine which I bought as a little plant.  I bought a packet of aubergine seeds (egg plant for those across the pond), boy did I feel ripped off.  5 seeds in a packet for £2.98.  Note to self - buy an aubergine, take out the seeds, keep seeds - eat aubergine.

 

Economics hit me in the garden centre.  Seeds sales are up 40% this year - fact.  Why?  Cause everyone is trying to save a bit of money.  So, I'm looking at the seeds.  Most packets are £2.00 or £3.00 and I'm thinking, for God's sake for £2 I can buy a million beetroot - why pay to grow the damn things.  Slight exageration but you get the idea.  Seeds potatoes in the UK are totally out of stock.  Again - potatoes are cheap as chips - why bother.  So the plan is - grow aubergines, asparagus peas, spinach, toms and cucumbers.  Also peppers - and boy are they difficult to grow but if successful. Economically their growth is better financially. 

 

Earlier today I went down the tip.  The English always use that vocabulary when visiting the recycling centre.  Dumped off my TV which I have had since I was 19 years old.  It worked brilliantly until they switched off Chanel 5 and there's not a signal strong enough now for my little antique.  Still it earnt it's keep.  Also dumped off a horrendous kitchen stool that someone will buy for a couple of quid.  Talking of a couple of quid I bought three massive containers for growing plants in - £2.00 was the deal.  There's so much stuff at the tip one can buy - books, records, containers, chairs, mirrors, lawnmowers - you name it they will sell it for a few bob.

 

So back home with containers.  Planted stumpy carrots, pick and grow spinach and my aubergine.  Now I'm not sure but I'll soon find out, whether this will work or not.  I saw the price of corriander seeds in the garden centre and decided they were a rip off.  I decide most things in life are a rip off.  Anyway - went to the supermarket and bought in herb section a jar of corriander seeds which costs next to nothing, and I have planted.  I just a little worried that the supplier of the herb roasted them first - guess they won't get off the ground then.  Never mind I have half a jar left to flavour my recipes.

 

I'm now knackered.  I work this week then have a week off.  I was going to go to the Gower in Wales, stopping off on the way to visit my Mum's grave but I've put that on hold.  The B&B that I've been to before is now charging £40 for a single room for one night - and the real downside - there's no breaky.  How can you advertise B&B with no breakfast.  That's what comes of a crap pound against the Euro.  Everyone is holidaying in the UK - and supply and demand means I can't demand a cheap B&B anymore.  Still I could always go to Serbia or Crotia for a week.  Let's see.  £40 per night x 7 plus £80.00 petrol to get there - £360.00.  Crotia is looking cheap and I bet you'd get full board. 

 

So during my holiday I will be plant watching.  And hoping that my plastic greenhouse hasn't gone into orbit in a gale.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saved £8 for the Hampshire Country Show at Broadlands.  It was pretty good.  And the weather was ok for a May day.  A nice Sunday outing.

 This year American Idol has only one SUPER-star.  An extremist.  Just look listen to these vids.  

 

Incredible.       

       

 

 I've read quite a few comments about this guy.  Many compare him to Freddy Mercury.  I rarely compare anyone to Freddy Mercury - there is seldom any comparison.  Having said that I tend to agree with the consensus - this boy will one day be as famous and crowd pleasing as Freddy was.  And we miss Freddy.  We need another super-star.

 

Adam Lambert is not Freddy but will shine just as brightly.   

 

 

  

Britain is producing lovely weather.   And it's only April. 

 

Today went to Allington Lane Bootsale.  A little small for the time of year.  But their first bootsale - so it was ok.

 

Bought 4 grape hyacinths - for £2.00.  And a couple of articles of clothing for 50p each.  4 wine glass for 50p - that's 12.5 p each.  And they are really splendid quality.

 

Needed the wine glasses for tomorrow.  Marion, her daughter and Darrin from work are coming to dinner.  We are having barbeque chicken, and salad and pavlova.  And some wine to mark the occassion.  It should be good. 

 

In two weeks time I will be going to swing-jive.  I have enrolled in the beginners class at the church hall in Locks Heath.  A course for 10 weeks.  Let's see if I can dance.

 

 

Woke up today - and the sun was still shining here in the UK.  Golly - what's wrong.

 

Anyway - I have been so fed up stuck in doors hibernating.  I looked up on the google - Gardens in Hampshire.  And found Exbury which is near Fawley - the worst blot on the landscape in Hampshire.  It's an oil-refinery.  Just around the corner is Exbury Gardens - not a blot on the landscape - sheer heaven.

 

I've attached some photos I took.  Apparently during the war the house was used as a training area for the army.  There's a stone dedication with a rather poignant note nearby that the last sight a lot of the soldiers saw before D-day was the photo of the river below.    A beautiful sight and I suppose if one had to choose the last piece of Britain you saw - it wouldn't be a bad choice.

 

Today - Sunday - was actually sunny.

 

The weather today was great. 

 

Didn't do much - housework, watched a little tv.

 

Went to the supermarket.

 

Today was - ordinary. 

Organic Stilton and wholemeal digestive biscuits - orgasmic. 

 

I adore cheese - and the number one for me is STILTON.   

 

Oddly enough Stilton reminds me of many good times.   Pub lunches, dinners, parties.

 

For some reason - Stilton never appears at depressing moments in our lives.  Correct me if I'm wrong - but I can never remember a bad time when I ate Stilton.

 

I'm having a glass of wne now - and a bicy with stilton - my taste buds dance.   Just wish I had someone to share it with. 

 

 

Hi dear ones

 

Something really exciting is happening.  I think I'm going to have some fun.

 

As a point of history I used to work for the police - actually to do with the net.  So am bit aware of things that go on in this blue-no-where.

 

Well - I'm single and I like to date - nothing serious.  Just to go out and have dinner and conversation.  However, having been on dating sites - nothing attracts me.  My last date was with Dave.  So haven't seen anyone for dating for over 2 years.  Even though I haven't dated, I'm not desparate - never have been.  And that is the saviour of us women.  It's the desparate ladies that get taken.  And we are not talking 'taking out' we are talking taking money.

 

So the story is:

 

Udate - a very reputable site.  Joined for one month - can't afford any more.  And boy was the talent dismal.  And I mean absolutely dismal.  Make a note - I need to avoid dating sites.

 

So once on there had a look around, chatted to a few chaps.  Then out of the blue - a whisper.  "Hello pretty lady - would you like to chat?".  OK - let's look at his profile.

 

Profile - no photo, Austrian, blond, with beard, widow, over £100,000 per annum, religious, lives in the UK (no town), Batchelor Degree.  And so it went on.  His wordage was full of the love of god and he advised he was of medium intelligence.  And I quote 'medium intelligence'.     I'm sure you are now getting a picture.  Nigerians come straight to mind. 

 

He whispered to me - found me attractive, asked him where he lived.  Reply - Oxfordshire.  He requested an email addy to send me a photo.  So I gave him an email addy I had set up specifically for the dating site.  No trace back to me whatsoever. 

 

And there it was - a photograph of a lovely man  - dark hair, clean shaven, obviously British,  and the email addy was from a name associated only with Britain. Won't say the name as I've reported it - however along the lines of John Smith.   Not Austrian at all.  I looked at the profile later. and somehow a Scotish Town had been input as the abode for the suspect.  Laughable.

 

So - am I being paranoid? 

 

The email with the photo was from a specific address which I put into Google.  Guess what.  It came up with scams.  All over the world.

 

This idiott hadn't even bothered to change his email address.  Can't get a profile right to match the photo he sent.  I can excuse an Austrian talking in pigeon English however the evidence suggest and I would bet my hat on it - Nigerian.

 

This guy hasn't a clue I know.  So what should I do.  I have reported him.  But in meantime.  Guess what - I'm going to play.

 

Going to tell him I'm very rich.  And am so looking forward to seeing him.  Going to impress how keen I am on marriage and supporting my partner.  However, my main concern will be that I want to establish a rapport.  And the only way to establish a rapport will be long-winded emails to me.  Full of love and devotion.  And I mean grovelling.  My emails will be one sentence and I will demand 'War & Peace' back.   This is what you call a workout.

 

Then as time goes on - I will demand a meeting in the UK to personally hand over funds to 'my love'  - has to be in cash you know.  Cheques are so vulgar.

 

And the best part - I'm broke - so no-one can get anything out of me - because I don't have anything.   That's the safe position.

 

I will keep you advised.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Took some photos today - like to keep the album up to date.  God I look positively pale.  Need sunshine and tan. 

 

It's on it's way.  We have daffodils and crocus.  And my Camelia is getting ready - to show herself.  Bright red it will be.  So we are rolling down hill towards Summer.  Can't wait.  Hope it will be hot.

 

Yesterday went to the mult-ethnic bootsale at Burseldon.  Actually it's not that bad.  Bought 3 Samosas from an chap who I won't guess at his Nationality - possibly Indian but I don't think so.  Oh they were gorgeous, 2 meat and a vegie - he runs out quickly.   3 for £1.00.  Also bought a dark brown dressing gown.  I've been searching for one for ages.  And there it was all new and cosy.  And the price - £1.00.  Got some DVDs to keep me quiet over my weekend.  And some batteries for my cooking scales.  Sainsburys had run out and they were £2.50 each there.  I'm glad they did.  Run out that is.  Got 5 for £1.

 

Oddly enough fruit and veg is dear at the market.  And they don't have any overheads.  £1.50 for 3 bell peppers.  The supermarkets charge £1.39.  And Sainsburies do a bargain basement bag for £1.39 with at least 7 in, mainly red ones. 

 

No men on the front.   As usual.  I find as I get older I can't be bothered.  I really can't.  God men are so unuser friendly and hard-work.  I'm worried about myself turning into a recluse.  I deliberately had little chats with male stall holders at yesterday booty just to keep in practise in case one day George Clooney appears.  I'll be on drugs at the time - but we can wish can't we.

 

A good friend sent me warm wishes from across the pond.

 

Did me a great kindness.  Sometimes, but only sometimes, special people really are special to me.

 

Had a Valentine Card.  Pic attached.

 

This card arrived yesterday - made me smile and feel warm inside.

 

Had the proverbial ? as to the sender.

 

So who sent it?

 

Two choices:

 

Either Marion my Mate who knows I love Elephants and feels sorry for me being single

 

or

 

Dave who knows I love Elephants and doesn't feel sorry for me - however knows me better.  And makes hand-made cards.

 

So should I toss a coin? God I hope Marion didn't send it!

 

God I hate the Winter.  Especially this year.

 

The weather is horrid, cold, nasty, dangerous and costs us loads in heating bills and woolly jumpers.  Can't get out to exercise, so one is stuck - in a rut.  Need to lose weight - want salads and fish. 

 

I am so looking forward to the Spring.  To Daffodils, Tulips, Crocus, lovely walks, albeit a wee bit chilly but bearable.  Unlike my present existence - like a bear in hibernation.  Un-bear-able - bored out of my skull.

 

Well - on the men front I met a few guys thro the Winter.  Once.  Once each that is.  Either I've lost the will to date or men have grown so boring.  Or old like me.  I like to think I'm quite young, young at heart and young looking.  I look for men ages 54 as I am.  For f....s sake they look ready for the grave.  I don't want to go child snatching with 40 year olds.  I simply want a well preserved 50 year old.  With hair and maybe teeth.  Solvent would be good.  Local - wow.  Even better.   And what do I want - I want to go out.  You know - the flicks and dinner - having fun. 

 

Anyway, men don't worry me - with or without them life is just the same. 

 

Haven't seen Dave for 6 months now.  Miss him.  Love playing pool and lunching.  Bootsales etc.  But it's better for him really. He needs a wife really.  It was inevitable that we would part eventually.  Because I am not a committed person.  He needs commitment.  I'm a loner - always will be.  He sees his Mum in me - separate but close.

 

It is sad men can't accept distance and closeness at the same time.  I know only one man that can. 

 

Being a loner is through nurture - not nature.  Actually anti-nurture.  But that's another story.

 

I've decided tomorrow I will go to the pictures if the weather is ok - I wish to see the Curious Case of Benjamin Button - a man born old, coping with getting younger through age.  Wow!    Certainly won't be seeing Mama Mia - bought the CD - what a load of crap.  Worst movie I've seen in a decade.  I might as a treat have lunch at Port Solent  - that would be nice.  I've not gone out for so long I'll really love that.

 

So without men I'm going out to the flicks and dinner - and will have fun.  Men are an accessory - like a wonderful handbag.  Without one, one feels naked, and with one, one wants to get naked.  Or so I remember.

 

 

Went to Tesco this morning for a couple of things.  Came back to finish my housework.  I'd purchased a bottle of Tesco Disinfectant/antiseptic. 

 

Having pressed the cap down as instructed and twisted - nothing happened.  Tried again.  Nothing!  Tried with my special gripper plastic thingy - to no available.  Hurt my wrist (I have RSI).  Sod this.  Prised off the outer cap.  Twisted the inner one.  Nothing.  The Bastard wouldn't budge.

 

Right - next stop my tool box.  Pliers.  Twisted the top like mad.  The bottle buckled but the top wouldn't move.  This is definitely child and adult proof. 

 

Was losing my temper.  Tried bigger plyers.  Hurt my wrist again.  Nothing.

 

Right - out came the Stanley Knife.  Found a small empty Fanta bottle to decant into.  Stabbed the bottle and my hand.  Blood everywhere.  Shit.  At least the half a bottle of antiseptic that spilt went over my hand.  Shouldn't get any infection.  Poured the leftover half into the Fanta Bottle.

 

So 3/4 of an hour later, I have sprained wrist, a stab wound, half of my purchase left, and a very child friendly Fanta Bottle full of disinfectant.  (Please note I don't have any children for those worried).

 

I'm keeping my receipt and the masacared bottle and Tescos will be having a visit.   If I'm in the same mood as I am in now they'd better get the antiseptic out ready for the bloody nose I'm going to give them.

 

You can see the result of my mission to open a bottle.

Blue - that's the colour of my hands - it's flipping freezing. 

 

I hate this weather.  So looking forward to the Spring.   Had to relent and put my thermostat to 10 degrees, have to do that or my pipes will freeze.  That's centigrade = so for you pounds, shillings, and pence brigade that's about 50 degrees in fahrenheit - that seems to bring this very well insultated house up to 58 degrees fahrenheit.  This is the temperature that I have discovered is ok for me.  Just wrap up well, with a blanket over my legs and a shawl and it's just fine.  Poor Manfred cat shivers so I put a blanket over him too.   You know what it's ok - those nasty power companies araen't going to rip me off.  If we all did this the price of fuel would drop, and so would your carbon footprint. 

 

When I l was tiny and lived with my Gran we only had a fire - no central heating.  And red brick floor on the ground floor.  I don't remember being cold.  I remember crumpets being toasted, and my romper suit to keep me warm.

 

Quite frankly we're all a bunch of pansies now.  Don't you think.

 

 

Well - it had to be done.  The annual Christmas visit to M&S.

 

It was either today, Tuesday or Christmas Eve.  Braced myself.  Put on battle fatigues.  Was armed with my zero interest Capital Card. 

 

Clothes were not on my agenda but some food goodies.  You can't actually beat M&S for good food.  Purchased of cheese, vegies, an individual Xmas pud, a packet of mince pies.  And they had Chard on offer.  £3.99.  And I'm having a glass now - it's damn good.  Managed to spend £39.05 somehow. 

 

What worries me is I cooked 2 dozen Mince pies yesterday and took them into the office for the girls today.  Forgot to save a couple for me. 

 

Queued for 15 mins at the tills.  The atmosphere was good.  Chatted to a lady in front of me, who was cooking for 9 on Christmas Day.  I scrutinized her trolley.  I love to know what people eat.  She was Euro-Asian.  I imagined visitors from foreign places, I imagined her cooking skills would be exemplary.

 

Had a bet with the bag filler at the till that I could fit everything I'd bought into one bag.  Told her to have a rest. And I did, fit it in - not have a rest.  She owes me 10p.  As a child my father gave me the job of packing boxes with Christmas food from his shop, and boxes were short.  I learnt to stack high, no plastic bags in those days.  Then I had to deliver the damn boxes.  Carrying them up hill and down dale.  For a tip may be of a shilling.  I miss two things from that shop - 1.  The ham he cooked himself - it was orgasmic.  Legs of Danish bacon.  I sliced it from the bone from an early age for customers - 8 years old and no fear.  H&S now would be horrified.  2.  Cheese - he used to get this Australian stuff - it was mild but it was so tasty - never found anything like it to this day. 

 

What the customers didn't know was what went on in the basement of the shop.  Mice, rats, maggots.  Many a time I saw him scraping out the maggots from a side of bacon.  He tried to keep the pests at bay.  But pests do what they do best, they persist.  And food dropped was wiped down and sold.  To this day I don't worry too much about food - I believe we fuss too much about food hygiene. 

 

Yesterday, I bought three chicken thighs, reduced from £3.00 to £1.50 on last day of it's shelf life.  Then I made a barbeque sauce from honey, tomato ketchup, soya sauce, paprika,  mustard, orange juice, and wine vinegar.  Cooked the chick for 30 mins first in a medium oven, drained off the juices.  Poured over the sauce and cooked it for about 30 mins more, basting it.  The sauce thickens and coats it.  It was scrummy.  I was a bit worried.  The jar of honey I freshly opened was not as fresh as the opening - 2 years out of date.  The soy sauce  was even scarier - 4 years out of date and it was opened already.  But I wanted my barbeque chicken so took the risk. Served it with Italian chips and garnish.   And 24 hours later I'm fine.  You see, if you worry too much you drop your immunity - and if push came to shove I could eat pretty much anything.

 

At the moment I'm immune - on my 2nd glass of Chard and going to cook chicken in a Calabrian style and have salad with it.  Yum. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today I went shopping - food stuff.  And looked at books.  I  love books - but find them mostly boring.  I have worked for a publisher years ago - and can appreciate a book without reading it.  I appreciate the blurb, the cover, the paper, the feel and the print of it.  Anyway -

 

Today - I bought a book.  Russell Brand's My Booky Wook.  Read the blurb - read the reviews cobbled together on the back page.  Thought I'm going to buy this - cost just under £4 at Tescos.

 

I'm upto page 50.  And I have to say - it's brilliant.  I thought it would be utter crap.  It's not.  It's written as you speak - few writers can do that.  I have to hand it to him - it fabulous.

 

One thing I can say, he wouldn't be who he is without all the stuff going on in his childhood.  Our childhood is our blueprint.  Sometimes I think the best homes, the best parents, the soft-living creates normality - or by my language boring. 

 

We are, whether we like it or not, clones of our parents - usually the bad one.   And having met his father understand not only his querky life but his father's as well.  I detest the memory of my father, but I know that my personality is as his was - don't you just hate that!

 

Anyway - I'm off to read some more.  I kinda like this young man - who has a soul.