This is a serious rant.......

My wonderful husband suffered severe stroke on 11th January 2014, leaving him almost totally disabled in mind and body. His life was brought to an end at 4.20pm on 1st January 2015 by something, so far, unnamed, making that almost a year with no quality of life and nothing that anyone could do about it. Since then he has been in the care of the funeral home who have a funeral arranged for next Monday and who have been a great support to us, the family. However, due to the circumstances of the death (no doctor present (although an 'on-call' doctor had attended earlier that day), no obvious cause), documentation has to be obtained from the coroner and a death certificate issued before anything can move forward so we are now in a situation where there is a very strong possibility of the funeral being postponed.

Now, I know that in everyday life we all face, or have faced, these annoying frustrations and, at the end of the day, things work out one way ot the other. But, for us, this goes beyond the pale. It is a final indignity. And, from what we can work out, it is caused by the incompetence, inconsideration and total lack of care by someone who should know better.

But what gets to me more than anything else is the unfairness of it all.  A man who spent his life being happy, kind, hardworking, generous, loving and all good things (you'd be hard pressed to find someone who didn't like him, I think) is having to end his story in this way. Unforgiveable.

I'm back with all of those negative emotions: anger, fear, injustice, despair. Sleep's gone again leaving me tired and shaky, and that cold knot of something is inside me all the time.  I've managed to stay reasonably strong for a year, with lots of wobbles along the way, but now, just as we all thought we could move into a new year with our good memories to sustain us, we have this shit to deal with.

Thank God for family and true friends.

What other people think

“It's so egotistical to believe that we know more about someone else's reality than they do, and such a waste of time.” - Shreve Stockton

 I just can't string the right words together for this post without tying my brain in knots and coming up with something that just doesn't make sense. All I can say is that unless people have some magic way of completely infiltrating your psyche and are experiencing your situation, then they have no right to judge or criticise the way you act within that situation. Coping with grief over an extended period of time brings with it so many negative emotions and having even just one or two disapproving looks over something you say can add to the huge burden of guilt that is just one of them. As of this week I can honestly say that, as long as I'm satisfied that what I'm doing is right for me, I am no longer bothered by what people think. A lesson painfully learned.

That is all. 

So it ever was.......

This is a post that I did in December 2005, probably in response to other blogs that were doing something similar.  Those lists are still valid; maybe a few minor changes in most of them. But the 'Seven things that attract me to my spouse/partner' are 100% spot on and accurately describe his very being. I have been truly blessed.

Trying to control photo overload

Hell is paved with good intentions - Samuel Johnson
Hell isn't merely paved with good intentions; it's walled and roofed with them. Yes, and furnished too - Aldous Huxley

You've seen them, haven't you? Those posts on social media where people commit to doing something at very regular intervals for specified, or even unspecified periods of time. Daily positives, daily photos, giving up alcohol, cigarettes, etc. You know what I mean.

I try a lot of these things at some time or other and, at that time, I fully intend that I will do it. But, then, it gets to the end of the day and I've forgotten; or I can't think of anything to post (found that one hard in the 'daily positives' categorey.  Some of the days I've had in this past year it's been difficult to find anything positive. My lovely Jo managed it, though, and I found that in itself one of  the most positive thing to keep me going, along with the love and support of the rest of my wonderful family).

Well, blogging has also been something that I've revisited many times and always my first post indicates that I will attempt to make it a regular thing. Never happens. At the beginning, when I first started, I kept at it for a long, long time and even made good, loyal friends who have remained so to this day. And, reading some of them now, they weren't half bad; some of them I've impressed myself with! But, because I'm not someone who can dash off stuff without constant editing, researching (Wikipedia and dictionaries are my friends), it was taking hours out of my day and, sometimes, replaced essential things like preparing food, tidying up a bit and confining myself to a small room hunched over a computer (before the days of laptops, at least, my laptop).

So, here we are again. I've been overloading Facebook in the past few days with photographs and I've decided that a better way to do it is put them here, not all at once (there are many!), but regularly and then post a link on Facebook so that people can look if they want but don't feel that they are obliged to 'like' or comment.

First one is this:

Christmas 199?? David has just opened his gift of a bottle of whiskey and the look on his face is reflecting what he's thinking: Thank God! Now I can deal with that old bat on my right!, the old bat being my mother who was, what shall we say, not exactly full of Christmas cheer. Not full of any cheer at all :-)

That's it then, for today.  Have now got to go and get dressed. xxx

New year, new chapter, new way of life - dealing with it, 1st step

I'm a bit out of practice with this blogging lark, so please bear with.

The purpose is take control of my brain again and stop the whirl of random thoughts that are constantly there and make me think, sometime, that I'm going completely barmy.  Trouble is, they're there one minute and gone the next! But....they keep coming back.

So here's the first one.  I have a strong tendency to worry about what other people think.  The way that I've coped with my life this past year with my wonderful husband, a strong, funny, sensitive, lovely man with not a bad bone in his body felled in one blow by a massive stroke that took away every quality of life that you can think of in a nursing home for an indefinite period, was by trying to live it as I've always lived it when he was around.

Facebook has played a huge role in this but with a mixture of  'FB Friends' consisting of real life friends, family, people you don't know very well and, sometimes, people you don't know at all I was very concious of what I was posting.  If I posted something funny rude would those that knew think I was callous, uncaring, inappropriate, offensive? I did it anyway, although there were often things that I chickened out of, but I worried about it so those negative niggles in my head would turn nasty and I'd imagine all sorts things without anything whatsoever to back up those imaginings.

So there, it's written down, on the internet, therefore the whole world can see it in black and white, if they're interested.  And it's so silly. I can see that if some people thought it inappropriate, etc then so what? What would happen? Maybe I'd lose 1 or 2 'followers', but I've not noticed any difference.

The whole point is I feel better for it. And that's not a wrong thing to want. Nothing on earth could change the situation with David and I didn't love him any less. And I just know (because I knew him so well)........that he would't have minded at all.  In fact, that last sentence has led me on to the final paragraph......

I've been thinking all day about putting this on Facebook but have held back, for some reason.  Yesterday we were at the Funeral Directors when the very nice lady we were talking to had to leave us for a minute and we started talking about suitable music. Pete started off by suggesting perhaps something by Sinatra and a couple of other things but then I said that I really wanted to emphasise David's sense of humour and mentioned that he'd really liked Peter Cook & Dudley Moore so how about them singing 'Goodbye' as we were leaving, maybe. Then Jo said something about a TV sitcom where the family wanted the Theme from Bodyguard (I Will Always Love You) but ended up with the title song from Minder (Dennis Waterman singing I could Be So Good For You). There followed a not-very-serious discussion about this accompanied by quite a lot of fairly loud  laughter.  Inappropriate? No - in my head I could hear David laughing along with us and I remembered an equal amount of laughing whilst arranging his brother's funeral.  So, goodness knows what we'll end up with but it will be with my wonderful husband  and Pete's and Jo's Dad uppermost in our minds. What other people think doesn't matter a fuck.

Thanks for reading. (If you do)

Crisis of Confidence

A lion doesn’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep.    Unknown

I've been sitting here for about an hour not knowing how to start this, what subject to talk about, worrying that my readers, if I have any, will be bored rigid.  But I'm fed up, suffering from a stinky 'flu-like cold and can't sleep so I'm going to ramble.  Nothing unusual there, then.

I last dipped my toe into the vast ocean of Bloggerland in January 2012 (3 fairly boring posts) and before that my final offering was 2009.  So, as you may have gathered, my outpourings haven't been too prolific.  But, due to a chance remark by the lovely Jo, I've been remembering how I used to enjoy sounding off about various subjects and benefitting from the friendship of people met via this blog.  So, if I bore you, well, tough - come back again another day when I possibly may be more interesting!

Worrying about what other people think has always been a bit of a problem for me in some respects but in the last year or so it hasn't really bothered me at all although, of course, I wouldn't like to come across as being offensive or ill-mannered.  But as to my opinions, the way I look/dress and generally behave that is very much down to me to manage as I think fit.

Influenced by a recent TV documentary about 6 women with an average age of 80, who are determined to look fabulous, have fun and redefine old age, my 'style' is going to remain up-to-date and, maybe, now and again, a bit 'different' and my hair is still going to change colour at regular intervals.  I'm very happy to accept all the compliments that come my way (and they do!) and I'll totally ignore any smirks, rude remarks, nudges & winks.

Watch this space!

Happy Days

Super duper day today despite miserable rainy weather. Cinema this afternoon to see 'The Artist', excellent film though it took a short while to get going but then got better and better.

After that picked up a good pair of walking shoes at a bargain price so must now take inspiration from Jo and fit more long walks into my days!

Then it was home to lasagne, recipe taken from Slimming World website.

Next was a bit of telly and now in bed with a bit more telly, my iPod and my Kindle. Will try to add sleep to my choices a bit later.

Lovely.

Success on a plate

“Childhood is that wonderful time of life when all you need to do to lose weight is take a bath.” - Richard Zera

 

Well, yippee!! After a great day out (more to follow), it was time for the Wonderful Slimming World Thursday Group Get-together.  And I'd achieved what I set out to do last week, a stone (14lbs) lost since the end of October, which is roughly 12 weeks.  With Easter being about 12 weeks away, this has now inspired me to set another goal and aim to lose a similar amount by then, which will take me almost to my final goal.

 

Slow but sure, that's my weight-loss journey and I think that I don't want it any other way.  My observations, for what they're worth, over the years have been that your body, for all manner of reasons, will lose body fat and weight at its own pace and it helps no end if you can accept smaller losses and not get too disappointed with any non-movement or small gains.  Unless, of course, you've stuffed yourself with chocolate, cakes and biscuits all week. Then, frankly, you should know what to expect, be happy that you made that choice and carry on from there.  

 

Of course, it's not always easy to remain upbeat, especially if the weight hasn't shifted much for 2 or 3 weeks but we have a fantastic group leader in Karen who's always there for advice and support in person at the group get-togethers or by phone/email.

 

Ok - lecture over - now on to other things - a summary of my week.  On second thoughts, perhaps not - don't want you to nod off so a couple of odds and ends.

 

Having decided that my lack of exercise was not good for me in any way, shape or form and not wanting to use the wii with my husband as an audience, walking was my preferred choice so I gave myself a good talking to and said: 'Don't be stupid! of course you can fit it in.  You can do what you like!'  And it worked!

 

This week: 

To Addlestone and back for my Sunday stint at Age UK

A super, familiar walk around Virginia Water Lake 

A very-near-to-home discovery - Homewood Park

And yesterday was a short visit to Hampton Court, lunch in the Member's Room (deeelicious thanks to Jo:-)), followed by an hour and half around Bushy Park 

 

Deer, deer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Diana Fountain

Lunch, by the way, was a couple of slices of quiche, Slimming World style!

                      

Long time, no see

Well...... It's been a while.  2010 and 2011 have passed with life's high highs and low lows and the usual mundane inbetweens.  One grandboy's all grown up but a nice, shiny new one came along last August to fill the gap. Adorable - both of them. 

I'm not doing too much anymore in the amateur dramatic world - just involved now with Woking Drama Association, mainly helping to organise and run the Woking Drama Festival every October.  This feeds my interest in local drama without the danger of ending up with a full time job (unpaid!).

Apart from that I'm still reading a lot, paper books, audio and Kindle, listening to all kinds of music and radio on my ipod and wasting an awful lot of time on this laptop. Oh, and TV watching when there's anything worthwhile to watch.

Currently, a lot of my time and effort is going in to getting fit and losing weight so you'll be kept up-to-date with my progress (hopefully).  But I'll try to keep it intereresting with, perhaps, some illustrated recipes and walks together with any other randon thoughts on the subject.

Tomorrow, a nice long walk is planned around Bushy Park and, if it should rain, Hampton Court Palace is just across the road so looking forward to a great day with lovely daughter, Jo :-)

Saturday PhotoHunt - Birds

If you want to joint in the PhotoHunt, please go here.

 I realised that if I had to choose, I would rather have birds that airplanes - Charles Lindbergh (1902-1974)

There aren't too many exotic birds aroung where we live, with the exception of the flocks of parakeets that have made the South of England their home; and they don't stay still long enough to get a decent photograph.  Also, having a cat who prowls around the garden doesn't encourage many of the smaller birds to stay, although I do have a robin who frequently visits, especially if I'm digging.

So, here's my offering for this week's Hunt, from last year's holiday in the Gambia  - the first a very friendly chap who used to wake us up by banging on the bathroom window in the morning and the other one of the many little birds scratching amoung the very colourful flowers and bushes in the gardens.

Red-billed Hornbill

Red-cheeked Cordon Bleu

Signs of the times

 It is a place that gives concrete jungles a bad name, an urban nightmare famed for its tram system and some of the ugliest architecture outside the old Soviet bloc - London Evening Standard (2007)

Yesterday we went to Croydon, which used to be a large town in Surrey but is now a 'major metropolitan centre' since it merged with Greater London in the '60s.

The last time we had any dealings with Croydon (apart from frequent visits to Ikea, which I'll come to later) was 40-odd years ago when we were returning from Southend on Sea on a very cold and sleety-rain-lashed Sunday night, in a small car, with a small baby in the back, who happened to be very hungry.  This was in the days before motorways and big major roads and our route took us home via Croydon. (It was also in the days before computers were in common use, or sat nav, or route planners.  All you had was a not-very-good map).  This experience made us rather reluctant to view this town in anything other than a pessimistic light.

All was well until we neared Croydon; we followed road signs pointing to that place but then all signs stopped and we were hopelessly lost!!  We circled Croydon several times, went along a one-way street the wrong way - followed by several other vehicles - got stopped by a policeman; which turned out to be a stroke of luck because he pointed us in the right direction, with our backs to Croydon and heading home where places were signposted and we rarely got lost.

Ikea, Croydon

Ever since we have avoided Croydon......... that is, apart from Ikea.  But this Scandanavian paradise (or hell, depending on your point of view!) is on the ourskirts.  Still a hellish journey BUT it's on major roads and very straightforward.

Anyway, as part of our family history research we had a need to visit the library in Croydon so bearing in mind our last journey in this region and the fact that we would have no idea where to park, we thought we'd take advantage of one of the advantages of getting old i.e. our cheap train travel.  Getting to Croydon by train is a bit of a faff - drive to Guildford, train to Redhill, another to East Croydon - but at least you can relax and watch the countryside, read or chat and arrive at your destination in a relatively good mood.

Guildford Station

Except that Guildford station has lots of platforms but no obvious signs of which train arrives at which platform.  They have very nice manned information booths but they are individually located on the platforms, only reached by loads of stairs or steep ramps.  We managed to nab a passing official-looking bloke who confidently informed us that we needed Platform 8.  Super.  Off we went only to find that the trains using that particular platform were going the wrong way.  Made our way to the information booth.  The only one not manned.  Getting grumpy now.  Then we spotted another official-looking bloke on the other side of the track and following a conversation in extremely loud voices (because of the noise, you understand, and not 'cos we were grumpy), we made our way to Platform 3.  You'll be pleased to know the rest of the journey was uneventful.

We arrived in Croydon.  Apparently, Croydon still has an issue with signs - not necessarily road signs - they looked ok on their very busy and congested roads - but we wanted to find the library.  I have to say that there were plenty of little blue signs on lamposts pointing to a large, ornate building which told us that that was the direction for Council Offices/Library, but after doing a circuit of this building, with its many doors, we found not one sign that said 'Library'.  We found lots of locked, unnamed doors and the main entrance to the council offices (unmanned), but it was only after asking the third passer-by (the other two didn't speak English) that we were directed down the stairs, through some very modern, unsigned glass doors into the bowels of the building.  Eureka..... home of the library, amongst other things.

I'm not going to bore you further.  We did eventually find the required department, although it wasn't exactly straightforward and the lady we spoke to was extremely nice and helpful.  Making our way home was easy; we knew where we going!

We have to go back, at some stage, because the records we want to see are original and very old and have to be pre-ordered, and I'm sure we'll find it a piece of cake.  We're considering using one of these:

Which used to be like this: 










But, I'm sorry, Croydon - you'll never be a place that I think of with fond memories

Family

"Perhaps they are not stars in the sky, but rather openings where our loved ones shine down to let us know they are happy." ~ Eskimo Legend

Shortly after my Mother-in-Law died, a few years ago, her grandson, my Pete, started to do some research into the Moore family history.  M-in-L was actually David's (Pete's Dad) stepmother as his Mum (Ethel) was run over and killed by a police car during a black-out during the Second World War and buried in Surbiton Cemetery.  Tom (David's Dad, Pete's Grandad) remarried after the war (to M-in-L) and they had a baby boy (Desmond) who, sadly, died at only a few months old.  He was laid to rest in the same grave as Ethel.


We already knew all of this but had never visited the cemetery and after my brother-in-law (who still lived in he family home) died earlier this year Pete, together with his Lovely Young Wife, traced the site of the grave and found that it was just a bare patch of grass.  Because money was very tight in those days the grave was never marked in any way.

The family home was put up for sale after B-in-L's death and some of the more worthwhile contents were sold on ebay, raising a couple of hundred pounds.  Pete made the brilliant suggestion of putting the money towards a memorial stone and set about gaining permission from the rest of the family.  He also took on ownership of the grave as, legally, it still belonged to his Grandad, even though he'd been dead for getting on for 40 years!   All of this has taken a while but, finally, a couple of weeks ago we were informed that the stone was in place. 

Today, it being a bright, sunny and uplifting day, David, Jo, Thomas and I went to visit those family members, so long gone. Although we'd been before, somehow, having a solid form of acknowledgement that it was a resting place made all the difference.

So, Ethel and Baby Desmond, most of us didn't meet you and David only had his Mum until he was nearly 3 and his baby half-brother for 3 short months, but you have been in our thoughts over the years and are certainly not forgotten.

  Ethel, David and Johnnie (B-in-Law)

Surbiton Cemetery

Saturday Photo Hunt - music

To join in Photo Hunt please go here.

I had a bit of a brain freeze with this one and this is the best I can up with:

These are the main sources of my music.  My ipod is with me, usually, wherever I go and is indispensable for keeping me company when I'm walking, gardening, shopping, etc. and I'm on my own.  I love music of all kinds and can't imagine my life without it.

A walk in the park

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns George Eliot

Yesterday, still feeling vaguely unwell and grumpy from my bout of 'flu, I couldn't face another day of sitting about with no inclination to do anything except watch TV.  I felt that if I didn't break the chain then this is how I would spend my days for the rest of my life. No thank you!  So, at around 11.30, I forced myself off of the sofa and decided that, despite the weather which was cold, drizzly and dull, I would use the membership I took out a few months ago to visit Savill Garden, set in Windsor Great Park and beautiful to see any time of year.  Added to that, there's a decent cafe attached so it seemed the sensible thing to do.


But first:  what did I do with the ubiquitous piece of plastic that I needed to get me in the car park and garden?  Wasn't in the obvious places (my purse or the little wallet where I keep all of the other 10,000 pieces of plastic that seem to be necessary to live our lives these days).  So I looked in the less obvious places - in a file marked 'miscellaneous', in the heap of stuff on the desk, in drawers, everywhere.  Well, obviously not everywhere because eventually I found it in a bag not used since about May which I though was empty.  This whole episode had taken about 45 minutes but I persevered with my slowly diminishing resolution to get fresh air and, at last, set out in the direction of Virginia Water another great place for a walk on another day.


I drove about 100 yds then got caught up in roadworks.  This wasn't doing my grumpy mood any good at all!  But I managed to turn around and took the less pretty route (which was also twice as long).


Once the dog/toddler walkers in the Great Park were left behind I had the whole of the garden to myself; I saw 3 other people and they were all gardeners.  How many flowers would I find still in bloom? - Loads. Had the dampness and drizzle spoiled the colours? - Definitely not. Would I be bored? - You kidding?  
The delicious soup and crusty bread was a welcome finale to my visit and I headed home looking forward now to my evening out, planned some weeks ago, to see Chicago at our local theatre.  Had  to sort the damp hair out first, though ;o)

Well worth all of the effort and here are some pictures to prove it: 



Murky start

 

But these cornus (Dogwood) soon cheered it up.

     physalis (Chinese Lanterns)

and, finally, begonia

 More pictures on the flickr link in the side panel

Makeover magic

Cosmetics are a boon to every woman, but a girl's best friend is still a nearsighted man - Yoko Ono

After deciding yesterday that I really had to force myself back into the outside world, one look in the mirror confirmed that some sort of renovation must take place.  That crumbling old ediface looking out at me really did need some sort of attention to make it suitable for public viewing.  The skin was pale and wan, a sort of beigey colour, the eye sockets a sort of brown/purple bruised-looking shade, the lips shiny with vaseline.  Yuck.

So, to work:  fill the cracks with very expensive, magic cream which doesn't work, but I kid myself it does because I don't want to have wasted my money.  Then on goes the stuff to give me-good looking skin, a sort of beigey colour.  Check: yes, that looks ok.  Eyes next - my favourite eye shadow, a sort of brown/purple bruised-looking shade.  Check: yes, that looks ok.   Better do the lips, a touch of shiny lipgloss will do.  Check: yes, that looks ok.   Overall double check:  not bad for an old bird and I don't think anyone will ask me if I'd like them to call for an ambulance when they see me.

So, see, Mother Nature.  You don't have to make people look so awful when they're poorly.  After all, we both used the same colours!

When I'm Sixty-Four

When I was young I was called a rugged individualist. When I was in my fifties I was considered eccentric. Here I am doing and saying the same things I did then and I'm labeled senile - George Burns

The charity I work for on Fridays (Help the Aged) has recently merged with another (Age Concern) and early next year will be rebranded as Age UK.  Today I read through the notes sent to each shop manager and was interested to note that good old political correctness was at the heart of the information.  When addressing anyone over the age of ?? (when is old? -  50? 60? 70?) the term 'aged' is a complete no-no as are: 'senior/senior citizen', 'pensioner', 'old person', 'wrinkly' and 'old git'.  The team organising this marketing excersise polled a number of these, erm, whatever they're called who promptly told them that they didn't want to be categorised at all.  So now, staff and volunteers working for Age UK have to use the term 'those of later life'.  Sounds vaguely like a slimming club to me.

What a lot of nonsense!  Why can't we call them 'people', which is what they are?  I know 'cos I'm five of them.  I'm a person, I'm old, I'm a pensioner, I'm wrinkly and, very often, I'm a git.   But I'm still the basically the same as I've ever been.  So treat me accordingly.  So there.

PS:  I knew I'd reached the age of no return when the lady in the Post Office said to me in a very patronising tone:  And what can I do for you today, young lady?   I'M OLD BUT NOT STUPID

PPS:  Perhaps I'm not over the 'flu yet - I'm very grumpy anfd I can't find the words I want

Saturday Photo Hunt - Veterans/Military

To participate in the Hunt, please go here.


In the United Kingdom Remembrance Sunday is the second Sunday of November, the one nearest to November 11th, which is the anniversary of the end of the hostilities of the First World War at 11am in 1918.  The day is to remember all war dead and will be especially poignant here this year with 5 British soldiers being shot and killed in Afghanistan on Tuesday.


Some of the bloodiest fighting of World War One took place in the Flanders and Picardy regions of Belgium and Northern France. The poppy was the only thing which grew in the aftermath of the complete devastation. John McCrae, a doctor serving there with the Canadian Armed Forces, deeply inspired and moved by what he saw, wrote these verses:

In Flanders' Fields
John McCrae, 1915

In Flanders' fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place: and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders' fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high,
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders' Fields.

Since 1921 single poppies and wreaths have been made by disabled ex-servicemen for people to buy and therefore contribute to the Royal British Legion charity. The wreaths are laid on the memorials and two-minutes' silence is held at 11 a.m.

The photo above shows the poppy that I'm wearing this week, together with the Military Medal for 'Bravery in the Field' awarded to my Uncle Ben for rescuing his commanding officer, despite his own injuries.

Sincere apologies

It has come to my notice that there are some grammatical errors scattered around my last few posts; some of the commas are in the wrong places!!  I don't know how this could have happened but please blame whichever you like out of some (or all) of the following:

• old age (most likely)
• influences of flu
• carelessness (unforgiveable)
• not good at grammar in the first place (but I usually am!)
• don't give a stuff
  

I'm making this apology because I know how upset some of you get about this sort of thing.  Please stay my friends.  I'll try very hard not to do it again.  (sob, sob).

OK - grovelling over - have a good day.

Crash, bang, wallop - what a banger !!**!!

Now, on the whole I'm pretty much a 'live and let live' kinda gal.  Except where 'consideration for other people' interferes with my bonhomie and that's when my aptitude for moaning springs to the fore.  So, I have no objection whatsoever to people standing out in the cold firing up their very expensive and very noisy fireworks (they seem to get louder every year), if that's what makes them happy but ........... WHY do they do it at 11pm when people are thinking about retiring for the night???   Eh??  Grrrrrrrr.....

Grandma v. t'internet

Sorry about the language but this made me laugh because it's oh so true!! ;o)