I'm Hot Stuff - Don't ya know!

Gosh! Didn't we have scorching weather last week in the UK?

I don't remember sweating like that since I chased after the Mayor dressed as a Victorian Prostitute.

(It was the Mayor's Carnival, 1992, I'd fallen off the lorry, and had to chase it 300 yards up Lincoln High Street before the driver realised and stopped for me to get back on! Oh Happy Days!)

Where was I? errrr...... Oh yes, the weather last week.

It seemed no matter what I did I just couldn't cool down.

First of all, I stripped down to my underwear...........................

Nope - still didn't cool down.

And thirsty?..........................................I felt like I had a hedgehog on my tongue!

I grabbed a large bottle of Tropicana, and slurped the lot.

Nope! Still too hot!..........................

Then I had an idea................. I ran over to the freezer, lifted the lid, and plunged me arms almost down to the bottom.

I grabbed a bag of frozen peas and began to rub them all over my steaming body. At this moment, two things happened.........................

Firstly, the bag of peas split and tumbled all over the floor......................

and secondly, there was a tap on my shoulder..............................

There was a man standing there!.................................................

"Excuse me, Madam. But would please leave the store............NOW!"

I picked up my clothes of the shop floor and headed embarrassingly towards the exit.

There was a young lad about 12 years old, he picked up a handful of the frozen peas and ran after me.

He dropped the peas down the back of my (ginormous) knickers.

"What did you do that for?" I demanded,

He grinned cheekily, and said, "Well, Missus..................................

Back to shopping at Sainsbury's it is then!

Oranges are Not the Only Fruit

Many years ago, I worked in the offices of Sunblest Bakeries.

One of my tasks was to check the paperwork of the delivery drivers.

They were allowed to claim back charges for returns, damaged goods, and wholesale discounts to any shops they delivered to.

It was my job to check and make sure that all claims were genuine.

Oh, they were a naughty lot sometimes and would submit some really cheeky claims.

I got one once that was claiming £1.20 because he'd been late back from his deliveries and his wife had to get a taxi to the dentists!

One day there was a claim from one of the chaps had submitted, it read.........

"CUSTOMER COMPLAINT

Replacement for small sliced loaf - HANDBAG TYPE"

I went down into the canteen and shouted across to him,

"Hey, Steve. Can I see you before you go home?"

He nodded taking another bite from his bacon buttie.

Ten minutes later he popped his head round the door to my office.

"Was it about that claim for the loaf?" he asked.

"I don't understand your claim - HANDBAG type. What's that mean?"

"Hang on, I'll fetch it." he said.

He came back with a loaf like this.........................

What a great description this was! The phrase even became part of our office vocabulary.

I must have heard all sorts of tall tales accounting for missing stock. (For instance, one day a customer's dog had jumped into the back of the bread van and ate some fairy cakes!)

Some of the claims were at my discretion, so you can imagine how nice they were to me!

I always tried to be fair, and was never swayed. No matter how much chocolate or packets of Spangles they left on my desk, if they couldn't prove it or get their Manager's signature - I didn't allow it.

Pete had just finished his first week with us and when he came in to collect his paperwork from me, he put one apple and one orange on my desk.

Every single Friday without fail, he left them on my desk.

One particular Friday afternoon, two of the lads Dave and Bob came in for their paperwork.

DAVE: "Why do you always have an apple and an orange on your desk every Friday?"

ME: "Pete gives them to me."

DAVE: Yeah, but why is it always an apple and an orange?

ME: I don't know.

BOB: I do, it's because he's heard you've got a "nice pear" and the other fruits are to go with it.

ME: Oh, you cheeky devil!

We're All Sisters Under the Skin

Some of you will remember that I have a sister. Because I had a speech impediment when I was a child, I call her "Ickle Ditder" (Little Sister).

Obviously I'm "Big Ditder".

She always makes me laugh, she gets into nearly as many scrapes as me.

Last week, I won some lovely Lavender sachets from the talented Sal at Sal's Snippets do pop over to her blog, she also has an online shop

"These smell lovely Big Ditder. What are they for?" asked Ickle Ditder

"They make your knickers smell nice." I replied.

"Aaaww can I have one?" she pleaded.

"OK, then" I said grudgingly.

She just 'phoned me 10 minutes ago.............

"Hello Big Ditder. You were right. The lavender sachet does make my knickers smell nice, but........................

don't you find the lace chafes a bit?"

I hope she was joking! If not, it may explain her funny way of walking :O)

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Speaking of sisters, this a TRUE story............

Kath is my sister-in-law, she married my brother Les a couple of years ago.

In their late 50's, this wasn't the first marriage for either of them. Les divorced years ago, Kath was a widow.

One day last week, Kath was standing waiting for the bus on her way home from work.

It was rush hour and the bus was late.

We're all a friendly lot in our family and she struck up a conversation with another lady, also waiting for the bus.

They were chatting away, they saw the bus coming,

but, as always in Lincoln during the rush hour, it was held up even further by the railway crossing.

The pair of them were getting on really well.

"Didn't you use to live at the top end of town?" asked the lady.

"Still do." Kath answered.

"I thought I knew your face, I used to see you and your husband in the Vine pub." continued the lady. "Your husband's name's Ray, isn't it?" she inquired.

At this point, the bus finally arrived at the bus stop.

Both of them got on and sat next to each other.

Kath carried on the conversation........

"Yes, Ray WAS my husband, but he died 5 years ago."

The lady gently touched her arm, "Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you on your own now?"

"No, I remarried" said Kath. "Funny thing you should mention the Vine Pub though. My husband Les used to be the landlord there in the early 90's. I bet you knew him too."

The lady had a stony look on her face, and said..................

"It just so happens that I was the landlady then - you're married to my ex-husband!"

The worst of it was, the bus was jam packed full, so the pair of them had to sit in icy silence until they reached the bus station.

I'm Loving Angels Instead - Part Two

You may remember in my previous post, I mentioned that I need some practical help around the house now that I am a widow.

I placed a card in the Newsagent's window.......

Local widow seeks Handy Man, must be fit

Apply in person at

Dollytub Cottage

Imagine my surprise today when I heard a knock at the door, and there, standing before me was none other than..........

Brad Pitt

"Hello again, how lovely to see you," he whispered softly, grooming one eyebrow with a moistened finger.

"Oh it's you," I grunted. (Yes, I know he's DEFINITELY fit, but read on.......)

"What d'ya want? I'm a very busy woman you know. I've got potatoes to dust, and my clothes pegs to pair up."

(Did I mention I have leanings to obsessive compulsive disorder?)

He looked down at the floor and shuffled uncomfortably and said,

"I've just been talking to Legover-Linda in the newsagents and she pointed out your card in the window advertising for a Handy Man."

He looked up at me with his big puppy eyes.

(He had to look UP, he's only 4feet 10inches in real life, yer know.)

I told him as kindly as I could,

"Sorry, Brad, Ducky. I'd love to help you, I really would. I know how much babies drain your cash. But, I'm afraid I've not forgiven you for what happened last Summer."

He walked slowly back to my gate. He turned and blew me a kiss and whispered,

"I'm sorry."

So he should be!

I'm sure you'll agree when I tell you what he did to me last Summer.

Not many people know that when Brad is between filming, he earns extra money for his family by moonlighting as a refuse collector.

He was offered the job when Lincoln City Waste Management Department noticed that one of his costumes looked almost identical to the safety waistcoats worn by their operatives.

He obviously looked the part and after he'd passed his Refuse Operative's audition.

(Wolf whistling and shouting "Ello Darlin'") They set him on working with the lovely group of lads who empty the bins on my road.

One particular morning, it had taken me even longer to get bathed and dressed then usual. I'd not put my bin at the kerb.

I heard the truck coming up the street and ran out as fast as I could pulling the bin behind me..

"Cooooeeeeeeee!" I shouted, "What about me?"

Brad was riding on the step thing at the back and when he saw me running he banged on the side of the lorry so the driver stopped.

Before I knew what was happening, the lorry stopped, Brad pulled me up with one arm, stood me at the side of him on the step, and banged on the side again. The lorry sped up off up the road with me hanging on to Brad.

Not only was I scared for my life, I was speechless. (Yes! Really!)

"We'll drop you off at the Bus Stop, Luv." He shouted to me above the drone of the crusher.

I was nearly crying, "I don't want the Bus Stop. I'm supposed to be going to the Bingo."

"Even better" he said. "We're going back to the Depot now. We'll drop you off on the way."

The louder I protested, the more he seemed to smile and ignore me.

I wasn't even wearing a jacket.

Oh well, I'm here now, I thought.

I won all the bingo games that day. I stank so much, that as I walked in, everyone else went out.

The payouts were a bit low though.

Obviously!

Previous posts: about Legover-Linda Here

A Touch of Glass...........

Oh dear! I had a bit of a calamity this morning.

As I mentioned before, occasionally when I visit my local Sainsbury's, I invariably join in the Rugby Scrum along with the other Old Biddies who are also looking for the marked down items in the Deli aisle.

I was feeling a bit worn out this morning because I decided to.............

clean the windows

do the ironing

change the bed covers

and have a general tidy up.

Please note, this only what I decided to do.

I didn't actually do any of the jobs.

Sometimes just the thought of what I should be doing is enough to tire me out.

So, anyway........................... er, what was I saying?

Oh yes, Asda's......

Not feeling up to participating in the geriatric ballet in Sainsbury's

I thought I'd go to Asda's instead

When I get out of my car to go shopping, I lift my specs and pop them on the top of my head.

If I leave them on, any writing on food labels looks like this..................

khfihknfkuhh

kdjgkjdygfkjvhk

jdhffjjdjjd

However, if I take them off and put them in my bag,

I can't find my way round the aisles.

I still shudder about the time I was telling a fellow shopper how good a particular tin of meat was, not realising I was in the Dog Food aisle!

(I didn't tell her that I'd made the same mistake the previous week and had actually bought a tin!

Aahh, but did I EAT it? Not telling!)

So, there I go as I'm walking round -

"Where's the aisle I want?" - specs down on my nose

"How many calories is this?"- specs up on my head

and so on.

I was bending down picking up some fizzy water, specs on top of my head.

When I stood up again

BANG!

I hit my head on the trolley handle, and broke my glasses.

Thankfully I'd almost finished my shopping.

Even so, I'm still not quite able to carry on as normal.

So I've written this little song

It's sung to the tune of "Yesterday"

With apologies to Lennon and Mc Cartney

I’m sad today

All my bloggers seem so far away,

I broke my specs in Asda’s this fine day

They’re cracked and ruined

What dismay

They’re broke for good,

I can’t see as well as I once could

I’m even lost in my own neighbourhood

You’d cry for me,

You really would

Why I broke them there

I don’t know,

I couldn’t say

I felt lost inside

As I left the trolley bay, ay, ay,ay

Late today

I phoned the Specs chap just to hear him say

They’re past their best

And I will have to pay

I’m stoney broke

‘Til Saturday

I’ve no cash at all

'Cos I’ve spent it all away

I’ve bought so much stuff

So I’ll blame it on eBay, ay, ay, ay

Fade out

Anyway, I 'phoned up one of my pals, and she said I can borrow a pair of hers

I must dash - I've just realised that I parked at my neighbours house instead of my own, and she's just arrived home from work.

She's gonna be REEAAALLY mad

Not only am I using her computer

I've eaten all of her custard creams!

Let Me Entertain Loo! (Robbie Williams' Toilet)

ARE YER MISSIN' ME?

I AM HAVING COMPUTER PROBLEMS - BUT I WILL BE BACK SOON!

Yes! Yes! Yes! I will tell the story of sitting on Robbie Williams toilet. I fear this tale may lead to disappointment, cos it's not nearly as hysterical as many of my stories.

The year was 2000 and I was working for Lincolnshire Tourism. The main part of my job was to promote our county by way of publications, organising competitions, and attending trade shows etc.

I've already mentioned that my job during the previous 10 years was as a Promotions Co-ordinator on our local newspaper. I could throw up a Marquee, rush a promo flag up a flag pole, and lay out a display table in 10 minutes flat. This made me first choice whenever Lincs Tourism attended promo events.

Two other attributes needed for this kind of work is:


Being able to survive on a diet of Hot Dogs, Soggy Chips, Roast Pork Rolls, and Bacon Butties

Being able to wait to go for a wee for at least 6 hours. (Now you know why my bladder's so well trained and no need for Tena Lady pads!)

The promotion business seems to have a sub-culture all of its own, and over the years I made many friends from all types of business, particularly in the local media.

There were journalists from rival newspapers.

Reporters and camera men from local radio and regional television.

I was fronting some event or other at the Newark Showground just outside Lincoln. I was taking a well earned break, and having a walk round when I bumped into the two lads from BBC Midlands.

They were standing outside a marquee. Inside there was the toilet shown below.

Robbie had donated the toilet when he was having his house renovated. The marquee was travelling all over the country, at various showsetc. Robbie fans could sit on it (with the lid down of course!) Each fan paid £1 and this was to go to charity.

There'd been a steady stream of fans all day, but wouldn't you know it - there were no takers when the TV boys wanted to start filming.

"Do us a favour Sue, I'm trying to drag a few folks over to make a queue, stand there a minute, will yer?"

"What, do I just stand here?"

"Yep!"

So, he dragged a few more people and ran the camera for a couple of minutes.

"This is rubbish!" he said. "Let's do some inside."

So we followed them into the marquee. There were five young girls, plus me.

"Right, one of you lasses, sit on the toilet."

Each one stared up at the ceiling shuffling uncomfortably.

"Sue, show 'em what to do."

"I'm just showing them what do, right?"

"Er, yeah. 'Course."

So I sits on the toilet

"Right, girls!" I said "Nothing to it."

"Then what?" says the bravest of them.

So the interviewer says,

"Right, Sue. A dummy run, just to show 'em"

The interviewer shoves the mike up to me gob and asks,

"So, Sue. How long have you been a fan of Robbie's?"

I go all giggly, (I'm acting here)

"Oooooooh! Absolutely ages"

The interviewer says

"How does it feel?"

"Oooooh, lovely! I feel so close to him."

(I should get an Oscar for this)

"Great, Sue. Thanks, the girls have got the idea now, off you go!"

At the end of my shift, I drive to Mr Dollytub's house. I thought that it would be a great joke to kid him that I was the one that would be on the news.

"Stick the telly on," I says. "I want see how my interview went today."

"What interview?" says Mr D. So I told him I'd been filmed on Robbie's toilet. He wasn't convinced, "Yeah, right...."

The presenter says, "Well viewers, you may think that it's the young girls who are Robbie fans, but one of our team met one of his, er, more mature fans at Newark Showground earlier today."

I can feel the colour creeping up my neck, my face burning.

I've only been seeing Mr DT for a few months.........................He'll think I'm a right Loony

He stares at me, his jaw drops. His looks at the telly, looks back at me.

He said, "Yer know what?"

"What?", says I

"You're not right in the head, do yer know that?"

And he never mentioned it again.

On my next blog post I will tell you how I went "Halfway to Paradise" with Billy Fury.

(If you don't know who he is - your homework for tonight is to "google" him!)

ANNOUNCEMENT FROM JAYNE AT COUNTRY COTTAGE CHIC.

JAYNE HAS LOST HER BLOG SO HAS SET UP AN EMERGENCY ONE AT

http://vintageandhandmade.blogspot.com/2009/05/emergency-blog.html