Enough of the bush!

hedge trimmerToday the tree man came round to do us a quote. We’ve decided to get rid of a hedge of conifers from the back garden – getting tired of having to pay for a well-trimmed bush on an annual basis.

Doorbell rang and for some reason his arrival took me by surprise. I still had my pyjama top on. With the words ‘love me to the moon and back’ emblazoned across it.

Did I quickly throw on a hoodie? No. Pull on a jumper? No. Grab a coat? No. I simply stepped outside, and spent the whole time talking to him with my arms clamped firmly across my chest.

This was working fine, until I forgot what I was wearing and inadvertently used both hands to gesticulate. Hello boys! I instantly revealed two pert nipples standing to attention in the cool breeze, straining against the word ‘moon’ and helpfully pointing him towards the unruly bushes that needed his attention…

Toasted Teacakes

Toaster image for Toasted Teacake blog entry

So, today got off to a questionable start. Woke up with craving for toasted teacakes – no I’m not pregnant, alarmingly that was also husband’s first thought. Chose not to ignore craving – which would’ve been wisest course of action. Changed pyjama bottoms for tracksuit bottoms, left pyjama top on, wiped away smudged mascara from under eyes, slipped bare feet into crocks, grabbed a hoodie and drove to the shop. Wore close up glasses instead of distance ones.

Staggered into shop, picked up two packs of teacakes and wandered straight into path of friend’s husband. By time I’d realised who it was I was within speaking distance. Had I worn distance glasses I’d have noticed him early enough to nip down the cold meat aisle and hang out by the salami until he’d left. Instead I had to have a conversation with him whilst going redder and redder at the thought of the state of me.

Why can’t I wake up with the urge for quickie morning sex like other people? Why toasted teacakes?

 

Welcome to my blog!

greeting-1291329_1920.pngI’m over 40 – so what? I have a husband, two teenagers and a cantankerous cat. I don’t look old, I don’t feel old and I refuse to ‘be’ old. In my head I’m 25 – I used to laugh when my mother said that to me – now I get it. I’m not going to tell you what make-up to use, what holidays to go on and what life insurance you should have. And I most certainly won’t be telling you what to wear. I’m not going to sympathise with you for being middle-aged because who says we need sympathy? Life is sometimes great and sometimes rubbish, regardless of your age.

The only thing I’m going to try and do in this blog is make you laugh, make you smile, or at the very least make you say ‘Oh my god that happens to me!’

Sometimes my life is organised like a military machine, sometimes it’s chaos. Sometimes I’m glamorous, sometimes I’m grungy.

On occasion I go out in my pyjama top.

Welcome to my blog!