Unravelling by the Minute

Oh dear! Things have gone from bad to worse. I spent last night shamelessly flirting with JanieBell on her blog. I really must tone down the sherry consumption. The bottle I mentioned I was going to buy in my last post has all gone now. Might have to break open my special supply which I keep in a pretty little cabinet. Doesn't that come from a Queen song. Yes. Killer Queen. Except she has a bottle of Moet & Chandon. I sometimes make my own wine (it keeps the sherry bills down) which I call Moat and Shandon after two districts which adjoin mine. Get it ? Moet & Chandon/Moat & Shandon. Please yourself. Where was I. If pedantic is one of my middle names the other has to be digression. I had everything under wraps until that Katie came along. Even joked about fancying her. I've got a new mantra which might help. I'll give it a chant now. Brad Pitt-Brad Pitt- Brad Pitt-Bad Pitt. Yes, I think that's helping. Failing that, is there a Lezzers Anonymous?

Have just knocked together another letter to Radio Times. Here's hoping. Not one of my best I have to say. but all my creative efforts have been going into this blog, believe it or not. The letter is simply about a wrong caption on a picture! I told you pedantic was my middle name. Well it's not really, it's actually Roberta And I hate it. Words from Latin languages ending in "a" are feminine, which is well and good, but my parents simply took one of my brothers' names and tacked an "a" on the end. Not very ladylike to my mind. I might be experiencing hard times, have a sherry problem, and now a raging sexuality crisis as well, but I still see myself as a lady. Talking of sherry, I see the bottle is nearly empty. Must nip out and buy another one.

Major rethink

Have had time to reflect on my choice of "Eight Dirty Little Secrets". Call me old fashioned, you won't be the first, but I like to put commas or full stops after a closing parenthesis. Not only am I a pedantic old bag but I am now questioning my sexuality in my twilight years. I hate Katie as a person, but I now realise that I have a strong desire to sh*g the butt off her. Where does that come from? As an alumna of Girton it is very embarrassing. The girls could well shun me. We were taught to chase after guys, especially rich ones, and here I am going on about the gorgeous Justine Henin, and sexy Katie. Never said I had a sexual preference but George Clooney is still on my "Things to do Before I Die" list. Know what I mean.

She Got Me

I was going to rant a bit, but I have been tagged to play "Eight Dirty Little Secrets" so I will do that instead. Thanks JanieBelle. I'll deal with you later.
I have to post these rules before I give you the facts. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules. At the end of your blog you need to choose eight people to get tagged, and list their names. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.
Here goes.
1. I have a fantasy involving Roger Federer, his tennis racket (a must) and a very, very large bowl of whipped cream
2. I kissed Anita Harris (actress) backstage at the Kings Theatre. Actually, she kissed me. Clearly a woman of good taste. Didn't wash my lips for weeks afterwards.
3. Got busted by the cops for peeing in the street. Maybe the bucket load of sherry I drank that evening could have been a contributing factor.
4. I lit up a cigarette in a "No Smoking" area once. Believe me, this is racy by my standards.
5. A local boy and I stripped of so that we could compare "equipment". I was very young at the time.
6. Have had a crush on Justine Henin for years. Is it me, or is there a tennis theme emerging here?
7. No tennis this time, but I couldn't possibly tell you this one. My mum might read this.
8. Another of my fantasies involves George Clooney and an industrial sized bottle of baby oil. Sometimes the simple ones are the best.
Deary me. What have I done? I've never told anyone about the Justine thing. Not even myself. Where's my smelling salts? I've come over all faint. My old headmistress would have a fit if she read that. Thank god she has no idea what a computer is, never mind how to use one. I see the Katie from The Apprentice episode in a whole new light now. Can't blame the meds on this one. This girl is going to give herself a serious talking to.
Since I'm new to this blogging malarkey I don't have eight victims, sorry recipients, to tag. Three on my list have already been tagged, namely JanieBelle (she got me first), Deacon Barry (Bagged by JanieBelle) and Kissing Corporal Kate (Yep, you guessed it. JanieBelle strikes again). So that leaves two people who's work I admire, so I don't know why I am subjecting them to this. They are doc's girl and Nurse Ratched's Place. Sorry about the lack of links, but you know who you are. Girls, consider yourselves well and truly tagged

That Indian Bint

Have got addicted to YouTube recently. It started off with Weird (got the spelling right this time. It's an exception to the i before e except after c rule I had forgotten about) Al Yankovic. He's been on the Simpsons, so you know he's famous. Today I pigged out on Shilpa Shetty. She's beautiful, slim, elegant, accomplished, rich, famous, intelligent, and now thanks to Big Brother and Richard Gere, an international superstar. God, I hate the bitch.

Tennis the Menace

It's Wimlbedon time again. Two weeks while my life is on hold. I'm not one to partake in sport, personally, but I can sit in a comfy armchair with a drink in my hand and watch other people slog it out all day long. How they can hit the ball so hard and yet keep it confined to a small patch of grass, clay, whatever amazes me. And I love the tactics they use. Handy things to have, tactics, if you're an International Woman of Mystery like me. Did I forget to mention that? I see myself as a sort of female Austin Powers but with better sartorial taste (not that that would be difficult). Everyone else sees me as a predictable old bat! Ho hum. I reckon Federer is a rubber stamp job for the men's title. Unless he decides to play dressed as Long John Silver (unlikely, but not outwith the bounds of possibility). The peg leg and the eye patch could hinder him. And the parrot would be distraction too. Can't believe I just wrote that last bit. Must re-check my medication sometime soon. The ladies competition is a bit more open. I want Justine Henin to win. She's been in the final twice but this is the only Grand Slam tournament she hasn't won. Main threat has to be Mauresmo, although there are others waiting in the wings. Should be good. What think you dear blog reader?

More Beans

I'll give you some examples of the pictures selected. What would you think was a suitable subject for a book entitled "Unseen" Deacon? Maybe something unusual, like llamas. Wrong. The most popular subject was DOGS! Dogs for god's sake. Which part of unseen didn't they understand. All of it clearly. The judge has some excuse, being as he is, optically challenged. When I say challenged I really mean "tested to the limit". It's strange how when his guide dog picks the pix (see two post ago) the most popular ones are of dogs. I suspect a touch of nepotism. Another popular and equally unfit subject was kids. You can just imagine a postie arriving home and saying to his partner "I've been given this camera to go out and take pictures of interesting and unusual things. So lets sit in the lounge and take photos of our kids". Wrong. No one is interested in photos of your family except you. The crowning glory, though, has to be the fuzzy paperweight. Maybe less mundane but you can't see the bloody thing properly because it's out of focus! The whole thing makes us look like a bunch of idiots who can't even point a simple camera and take decent pictures. These people, including the judge, suffer from delusions of adequacy. For more info watch "You're Pitiful" by Wierd Al Yankovic on YouTube. You'll see James Blunt in a whole new light.

Time to spill the beans

Time to do the "Unseen UK" thing. This was a photo competition organised by Royal Mail in order to produce a book which was sold to raise funds for a childrens hospice charity. Very laudable. However, the selection of the photos seems curious. My theory is thus. The judge got all the entrys laid out on the floor. Then he got his guide dog to walk all over them. The ones with paw prints on them were then selected for the book. I didn't even have to refer to my beloved Wikipedia for this one. A look at a simple dictionary tells me that unseen means things that are unusual. Or the other meaning is the total opposite. Isn't english a wonderful language. Things that are so common we don't notice them.

Not taking the piss at all.

Did I mention that Royal Mail want us to insert a broom up a place where the sun don't shine and sweep communal stairs as well, as we pass? OK that is not strictly true, but I wouldn't put it past our brain dead management to give it a try. Was talking to a retired colleague today. What a breath of fresh air to converse with someone who has a life. Still got a lot to say about the photo comp but it can wait. Hope ya all have a good weekend.

To Grump, or not to Grump?

Have been feeling a bit depressed these last few days. My Grumpydar has not detected anything worth getting upset about. And then it hit me, "Unseen UK". It was a couple of years ago now, but the wound is as raw as ever. Unseen UK was a photographic competition organised by my esteemed employer, Royal Mail. Them what have forced us to go on strike next Friday because they think we should deliver any number of junk leaflets for free, along with milk, papers and pizzas. Did I mention we will read your meters in the passing. So no chance that Royal Mail bosses are on mind bending drugs then. Clearly they are totally clean. It is simply that their IQ scores have failed to reach double figures. More, oh much more, on the photo competition when the strike thing dies down.

Here's The Deal

Think it's time to pulbish my "Mission Statement". Everybody seems to have one these days. Like I said in my profile I like to write. My most prolific output has been complaining letters to Radio Times (TV listing mag). Despite sending them off for a few years now I have yet to get one published. It's easy to feel hurt about this, and I do sometimes when I see letters I think inferior to mine getting published, but the odds are against me. RT has a circulation of about one million copies a week. That means that even if only 1% of readers wrote in they would get 10,000 letters. Think that's right, maths isn't my strong point. I'd be luckier doing Scratchcards. But I love my writing. Then I hit on the Blog idea. I enjoy the creative process of writing, but even if one other person reads it and reacts in whatever way they do, my satisfaction increases greatly. One of my life missions is to stimulate people to think. Relatively little of that goes on given the size of our brains. I need to be able to communicate with people to achieve my aims. So, although I originally saw this Blog simply as a platform to rant from I now feel I want to use it to talk about what is going on in my life and how I feel about it. But you had probably sussed that one already! As for my ranting, please comment regardless whether you agree with it or not. All constructive criticism is welcome.

Another day older

Another day, another font. Thought I'd try a new colour as well, just for fun. Not much going on at the moment because I am off on holiday and have had another tumble which has left my side so sore that I do not feel like going out. I am not feeling sorry for myself. Just annoyed. I know I can't change direction quickly but keep forgetting. On a happier note it has given me time reflect on things and I realise I haven't given you any details of my job. For the last year, up until recently, I was delivering mail to a rural area just outside Edinburgh. As close as you get to Postman Pat. Not that I want to be like him. My nose is big, but thankfully not as huge as his. And if my work rate emulated his i.e. three or four customers on a good day, I'd have been out of a job long ago. But for Greendale you can pretty much substitute Damhead. Lots of greenery and hills. I had a little van much like Pats and covered lots of miles in a day. Proper agriculture has all but disappeared around here and most of the fields are either grazing for horses or growing hay for horses. But that's great because I love them. Have tried riding, well pony trekking, but am not comfortable either physically or mentally. I just like being about them. I used to help out at the local Riding for the Disabled stables but I had to stop when I went away on a course (a whole big story for another day) and came back with my legs in their current state. Because I can't run I'm unable to lead a horse which is trotting so have sadly never been back. Maybe one day. The other big excitement out at Damhead is the llamas. Yes you read me right. One of the smallholdings keeps goats as their main stock but they also have four llamas. All the animals are kept for their fleeces. Have you bought from Peruvian Connection? They use Alpacas which are just a smaller animal in the same family as llamas. Their main trading name is Scottish Fibres. If you Google that you should find their site. Not that this is a sales pitch. I just thought you might be interested in what they produce.Once I figure out how to post pix I will let you see what I mean. Courtesy of my pal Annette who took them. Will go now before I use up the world's entire supply of commas and brackets! More "Tales from Damhead" another day.

Calm down dear, it's only a Blog

Finally got someone to scrape me off the ceiling after all the excitement yesterday. As you can see I have gone for a new look. The black background was just too much, and it limited the choice of colours for the text. This template's called Harbor. So I guess that will be the sea churning about in the background. Hm! Despite that, it feels relaxing, and I can do with plenty of that in the wake of yesterday. So Simon won The Apprentice. I smell a rat. Kristina was clearly the more competent of the two and was also the bookies favourite. Simon might have an IQ of five million, or whatever, but he was rubbish when it came to actually doing things. Funny how Kristina is a single parent, like Katie. And we know the problems that caused. My conspiracy detector has gone into meltdown!

The Apprentice

What an ace piece of TV. If I batted for the other team I would go for Katie. She has more bollocks than most men. What a girl. Sorry she is no more. I go for Kristina to win. Simon is a dickhead. Trying to sell wheelchairs on a shopping channel. Duh!

Starting to Find My Feet

Thought I'd go for white characters this time. Would make a nice contrast with the black (my favourite colour, incidentally) background. Only trouble is the Posting box has a white background. Net result, white characters on a white background, and loads of tears over my invisible text. So this is my next favourite colour. And you can actually read it. Result. Two taxi rides and £12 later mum has all her pills set out for the next week. Would have driven round but my legs have thrown a wobbly (literally) as they do from time to time. The doc says it's stress causing it. I think the excitement of setting this Blog up has gone for them. Anyway in this state I can't control the clutch properly. If you are from the left side of the pond, as you view the map, welcome aboard, and the clutch is that pedal thinggy to the left of the brake in a stickshift motor. Do people do paragraphs any more? Or is it an art that died with the e-mail age? Discuss. If video killed the radio star, did e-mail kill the paragraph. The Buggles have a lot to answer for. Have decided paragraphs suck so they are off the menu. This is only a preamble, believe it or not. Should preamble have a hyphen? I'll let the Spell Checker sort that one out. That's what it's paid for. But I have to go now. Deal or no Deal, a game of chance on the television, gives you the opportunity to win thousands of pounds through a free net entry. All you have to do is be able to read, remember your date of birth (I'm trusting you to keep stum on that one Annette), and know which way up your mouse should be. It's button side up isn't it? Don't laugh. An elderly lady at my local library recently asked me to help her with "these new fangled computer things" When I turned round to assist her she was holding the mouse upside down and operating the rollerball with her finger. Boy was my work cut out. Really must go now. If you visit the DOND, as they call themselves, site too late it sags under the weight of hits and everything takes a lot longer to work. Much more to come.

Finally got this up and running. Sorry about the long address, but seems there is more than one Martyne in cyberspace. So I had to come up with something different. Maybe over did it a bit! Got to go and prepare a weeks worth of meds for my mum right now but I'll be back later.