Under Eeyore's Blanket

So, how do you know if you're having a full-on mid-life crisis, or whether you've just tripped and landed on your arse in the gloomy patch? This is the question that has been blighting my days, and haunting my nights for quite a while now, triggered, I suspect, by my impending 40th birthday. "Pish and pshaw, 40 is the new 25!" comes the cry from battled hardened 40 somethings everywhere. Oh yeah? Lets examine the facts....

Fashion:

 Whilst fashion is not a thing I have ever been a slave to (comfort knocks 7 shades out of style every time in my book), I was horrified at the news from London Fashion Week that Holly Fulton (she's a designer apparently) was presenting a 70's inspired collection....Woah! Let me stop you right there! I was there madam. I remember it the first time around, and while the 70's may have been many things, the height of sartorial elegance they were not! Polyester catsuits in shades of brown and orange (actually, pretty much everything in the 70's came in shades of brown and orange, as I recall), wing collars, flares and the Afro-perm (and that's only the men). Anything bad enough to have been superceded by the big hair and bigger shoulder-pads of the 80's must have been truly shit. It's in the past. Leave it there.

Music:

 I confess I have just had to Google this week's Top 40. If there's anything in there that I know, rest assured it's because Chris Evans has played it in a moment of madness on radio 2! It is my firmly held opinion that Miley Cyrus should be sent to her room, Lady Gaga should be on some kind of medication and Psy should be horse-whipped.

Television:

  Jesus, what a lot of bloody awful chod! I am not even going to start about the neuro-necrotising drivel that passes for children's television these days. Far too depressing. If it's not QI, Top Gear, Mock The Week or Buzzcocks chances are I won't be watching. The occasional nature programme or crime/costume drama, if it's well done, may have me hooked, but these never run for long enough, and when they come to an end I am left feeling curiously bereft. 

 These days if I announce to my other half that I'm aching, wet and very dirty it's only because I've been gardening in the rain. If I'm lucky he'll run me a nice hot bath with plenty of Radox salts. 

I'd rather drink red wine than white. 

I'd rather go to a country pub than a disco.

I'd rather have cheese and biscuits than pudding.

I'd rather have Stephen Fry than Fry's chocolate (shit!Can you still get Fry's chocolate?)

Let's be honest....I'd rather be nearly 25 than nearly 40!

For those of you who are interested, here's a link to my older blogs (to which I  nolonger have access....password etc all forgotten. ) http://shroommuse.blogspot.de/

So, back at last!

 After a long time away from the blog, I'm back! Hurrah! 

It's been a funny old year, 2013. Began pretty dreadfully, when my mum passed away very suddenly.  But every cloud, as they say. Mum's death brought me so much closer to my step-dad, aunts and cousins. I've met new and wonderful people, been lifted by the kindness of strangers, been overwhelmed by the love I've had from, and have for, my family and friends. So I'd like to begin by saying a huge Thank You to them all. Right, enough of the soppy shit....on with the motley!

 Just getting back into the daily grind after an amazing holiday back home. Trust me. You don't know you've lived until you've seen the look on a child's face when they hear a Geordie accent for the first time...it's English Jim, but not as we know it! Then onwards! To Centre Parcs in Sherwood forest. A place of beauty and tranquillity....at least it was until we descended on it! Six adults and eight kids in two appartments. Oh the shenanigans, the bickering, the carry-on, the nonsense, the outrageously naughty behaviour and general madness and mayhem! And the kids had fun too. It was decided that we "grown-ups" would each take a turn at cooking, in a Come Dine With Me style. Themed nights included The Wild West, Down Mexico Way, Captain Caveman (or Rave In A cave as it became after vast quantities of vodka jellies!) and Best of British. The highlight for me, however, was the novel use that a bunch of grapes was put to on Greek night. (Some memories you just know will stay with you forever...no matter how hard you try to put them out of your mind.)

 Back home, back to school and the youngest has nits. FFS! I HATE anything creepy-crawly, seriously. The rational part of me knows that they're annoying but harmless teeny weeny things, the size of a pinhead, but in my mind the feckers are vampiric demons,the size of cats! Between having to spend ages going damn near cross-eyed, while brandishing the nit-comb every evening, and the fact that just the thought of the little buggers makes me itch,I'm being driven to distraction! 

 Thank God I've had BBC1's The White Queen to cheer me up. While it may not have been everything it could have, from an historical accuracy point of view (it was a drama at the end of the day, not a documentary), it was highly entertaining. Aneurin Barnard's portrayal of Richard III was spellbinding. (Almost wanted him to win the Battle of Bosworth Field by the final episode.) More than made up for Edward IV's (aka Max Irons, son of Jeremy) bizarre appearing/disappearing middle-aged-spread, in the form of a cushion up his shirt.

 Right, just got time for a quick coffee, then back to boil-washing bedlinen and towels. Ho hum. #itchyandscratchy

ps. If you're reading this, and have lost someone dear to you recently, or indeed if you have unwanted house-guests, you might find the following links useful...

http://www.cruse.org.uk/

http://www.nhs.uk/Livewell/bereavement/Pages/bereavement.aspx

http://lyclear.co.uk/

http://thegreenparent.co.uk/articles/read/its-a-heady-affair/