Mother Based Picard Moment

My mum is staying with me for the week babysitting.

She was watching Desperate Housewives with me (says she hates it but seemed to be getting into it a bit more than she did last time) and when she saw Bree she said "She's in Eastenders now"

I said "Bree???? Marcia Cross??? Don't be ridiculous"

"She is, she was on GMTV talking about it, they said 'you used to be in Desperate Housewives but now you're in Eastenders aren't you?' and she said 'yes'"

"Mum, no way would Marcia Cross do Eastenders, not in a million years"

"She is, she was on there talking about it, except she had blonde hair on that"

"Nope, you must have her mixed up with someone"

"She's having an affair with the bloke that lived near you, Bran..thingy Bradley's dad"

"Oh I'm not having this, I'm going to Google it"

So I go off and Google Marcia Cross in Eastenders and.....nothing.

I go back to the living room.

"Mum, there is nothing, she is NOT in Eastenders"

"Well, I saw her anyway, she said she was"

So we go silent and carry on watching Desperate Housewives.

A few mins later mother suddenly pipes up "Oh, not Desperate Housewives sorry, Footballers Wives"

PICARD.

Well slap my thigh!

I have landed the role as the Wicked Stepmother in the school ‘parents only’ panto.

I actually squealed and clapped my hands in a slightly ‘special’ way. In the school playground. In front of adults.

I cannot wait.

I was born for this role.

Propositioned

Harry came in yesterday saying that there were some teenagers across the road that called him over one of them and said “Do you want to stroke my dragon?”.

Harry thought he said “Do you want to taste my drugs?” and said “What??”

Again the lad said “Do you want to stroke my dragon?”.

Now, if someone in the street said that to me, I would automatically assume that was a euphemism for something dirty, but these were kids, and, yes, they really did have a dragon...a real live, living, (non fire)breathing dragon.

Komodo to be precise.

Harry stroked it and said it was nice.

Exposed

My mother rang me this afternoon to tell me that a man had been seen this morning in a car park in Bromley, stark naked except for a pair of stockings and suspenders, he had his genitals pierced and a bell hanging off the end of his penis.

She said my brother went round to see her today and she asked him where he was this morning then told him about the man to which my brother replied “Nah, not me, i don’t have a bell on the end”

Strangely my thoughts were “Has my brother been drinking again???”

Demands Made Of Me

I have been told I HAVE to keep a blog, so here goes ;-)

This will not be a lengthy, deep, thought provoking blog, nor will it be updated daily, but it will be used to log all the unusual events, situations, people and conversations that happen to me weekly.

I shall start with what has already occurred this week because several things have happened already.

Saturday:
I was having my breakfast in the living room watching kids TV with Poppy, she found a plastic chopstick on the sofa and asked if she could curl my hair round it, I said yes and it kept her quiet for 10 mins, then, she must have decided to scoop my hair up with it because she thrust the chopstick straight into my hair not realising my ear was underneath and it went straight down hard, into my ear canal.
After I had picked myself up off the floor and stopped crying, because yes, I did, I went off the the minor injuries unit in our little local hospital.
I don’t think you can appreciate how embarrassing it is to have a nurse sit you down and say “So, you’re the lady with the chopstick in her ear”

Monday:
My friend George, from my photography club, has an idea for a photo he wants to do involving a mermaid at the bottom of the sea. Guess who was the mermaid?
I said it would be easier if he came to me and used my photography room as he needed a white, blank wall, so he came Monday afternoon and brought my costume with him, it was a brown Victorian bathing belle outfit complete with mop cap, dear God alive.
I had to get into position and strike a pose,pretending I was grabbing something triumphantly from the air, we had to do several of these, I am not a natural in front of the camera unless I am taking the photos.
Then he wanted the effect of my hair floating in the water and so I got 2 hairdryers which Poppy had to point at me, she couldn’t hold them high enough so George had to hold them and Poppy had to take the photos. Yes, my 4 yr old was the official photographer using a Canon DSLR, tripod and speedlight, that’s my girl!
I have no curtains in that room and the house opposite can see straight in, it’s bad enough that the girl that lives there asked Lily who the blonde girl is that lives there that is always taking photos but on that day they would have seen a Victorian Bathing Belle standing in a weird position being blow dried by a 76 yr old man and photographed by a 4 yr old.

I have not seen these photos and nor do I want to.

Tuesday:
Had to take Harry to the minor injuries unit again, this time him and his friend were karate chopping each other mid air on a trampoline and his friend karate kicked his middle finger back and it had swollen up.
It was suggested when I got there that I get a loyalty card for the place.
Finger was not broken much to Harry’s disappointment because he wants to gain 10 broken body parts by the time he has children so he can tell them all about it and they will say “Wow Dad, cool!”. Apparently.

I had a choir concert in the evening. Most of my choir are of retirement age and above, quite a lot above.
I love my old people, they say the most random things.
Last week, Ted, in his late 80s, told me how boring it is now they don’t have ‘love books’ on the top shelves anymore and he blames that bloody Germaine Greer for that.
The week before Liz told me how wonderful sex in an open field was when there was a problem with the piano music and we had to talk amongst ourselves. I didn’t so much talk as splutter.

At this concert though, during refreshments I was talking to Jean#1 (we have two Jeans who sit together, I call them The Pair of Jeans) and Bob came over and said to her “Have you heard? Roz is getting married” to which her reply wasn’t “Oh that’s nice” or “Really? Lovely” but “Is it someone she knows?” very seriously and deadpan.
When I commented on the fact that was a very unusual response to hearing that your friend is getting married they both looked at me and said “Well, she is 81”
Not only is she 81 and getting married but she’s a cradle snatcher too, her fiancée is only 76!
Cougar.