Monday

Monday is chores day, and when I can finally get my shit together enough to get my ass off this chair, I’ll go do them. I woke with a headache this morning, around 9.30am… it’s still throbbing a little, but it’s fading, slowly. Bear’s on an early shift today with the grocery shopping to do afterwards, so I’ve got until 5.30pm to sort my life out. I have to shower too before I forget, and put the dishwasher on.

The major rainstorm we were promised last night didn’t happen… as per, it took the long way around us and went to annoy the German’s instead. Wish my neighbours would bugger off and annoy the German’s; they’re at it again, screaming and fighting with each other and slamming doors. Now it’s getting lighter and warmer they’ll be in their garden soon, screaming and fighting with each other, getting drunk and stoned and shouting bollocks across the neighbourhood.

God, I wish we could afford to move. I’ve been wishing that since a week after we moved in. Maybe one day. I have my heart set on a nice five bed, one storey Cottage style home with lots of land, a garage, a summerhouse and a beer cellar/bar surrounded by rolling hills, or mountains. And a helipad. The nearest neighbour would be at least 100 miles away. Bliss.! Now to find it… or a place to build it.

UPDATE: Finally got my ass in gear around 2pm and did my chores, thankfully without emptying my stomach everywhere as that headache I woke with, returned with a vengeance and threatened to become a migraine. I had to beat it down with 1800mg of Ibuprofen and a hot shower before it finally got the message. I’m making garlic butter fish with courgette (zucchini) noodles tonight. Quick and simple and pretty much effortless. Perfect.

Inconsideration, 90's Grunge & Go-Go Boots

Today I’m a bit stressed. Not as stressed as yesterday, but there’s still a trace of anxiety going on in my general vicinity. I’ll get over it, I always do, but it takes a bit of time. This time it was caused by Bear inviting a complete stranger into the house for coffee yesterday without a single word of warning. He knows I can’t deal with new people without some preparation. He knows it stresses me the fuck out and makes me anxious and jumpy and nervous. He did it anyway.

And I was. Stressed out, anxious, jumpy and pissed off at being completely unprepared for my safe place to be violated by a total stranger who sat beside me and drank coffee and tried to make small talk with me. Small talk. Me. I don’t do small talk because I can’t do small talk. Literally, I can’t.! I’m not one of those people who can discuss the weather, world events or the latest trend at the drop of a hat. I need time to think about these things before offering any sort of opinion or comment.

So I sat in front of my laptop screen, listening to Bear and his colleague chat, trying to concentrate on the words so I understood a little of what was going on, trying to stop myself from leaving the room in a panic. I was pissed at Bear for being so bloody inconsiderate, knowing I can’t deal with the situation, but I also understood that Bear very likely didn’t even give it a second thought… it wouldn’t have occurred to him to say anything because he forgets stuff like that… consideration is not an inbuilt thing with him.

He certainly didn’t do it deliberately and if I’d explained to him again, as I have so many times before, that what he’d done had caused me stress and anxiety he’d have been so apologetic and would say he should have remembered and he’ll never do it again. But he will do it again, and again, and again, because he forgets, so there’s little point bringing it up and making him feel bad. I deal with my stresses in my own way and in a day or so, I’ll get over it and be relatively okay again.

90’s Grunge Go-Go boots

After he’d gone to work yesterday, I tidied around a bit and did some laundry and continued browsing the internet for suits and smart shoes for Bear, when I came across these babies… 90’s grunge Go-Go boots.! I would have sold my soul for a pair of these back in the day… I still might.! 90’s grunge is so my thing… Nirvana, Blind Melon, Mudhoney, Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains, Hole, Soundgarden and Smashing Pumpkins are a daily ‘must have’, regardless of other genres I’m listening to.

Today, I’m mostly doing sweet F all. Every other Sunday is my sod it day. When the kids aren’t here, Bear’s at work and I can kick back and do whatever I want without having to get chores done. Although I did make Bear a sweet potato stir fry for his dinner. I’ll grab something from the freezer later when I can be bothered. I did next week’s meal plan and made a shopping list for tomorrow, so I’m done. I might play on the Xbox in a bit.

Imelda Marcos, Roman Domestic Abusers & Road Racers

I’m in love… completely head over heels (pardon the pun) in love with these totally fucking awesome shoes I found on AttitudeHolland.nl last night. I was looking for Louis heels (no, not Louis Vuitton, I’m not made of money) originally, then Oxfords because everyone loves Oxfords, proven by the fact that I couldn’t find anywhere that had them in stock in my size. Then I saw some wingtips and had to have some, again coming up empty… yes, I have a thing for shoes… unfortunately money and storage are my two evil setbacks…

Almost what I was looking for…. still LOVE them.
Perfection.!

THEN I saw some gorgeous vintage shoes on the above Dutch website AND these beautiful lace edged heels and I’m a goner… they are perfect and will look amazing on me and are bloody expensive… but… so worth it.! Given the opportunity, I would be the next Imelda Marcos when it comes to shoes. I used to have over 75 pairs of them in my late teens/early twenties. Some vintage, some retro styled, most glossy, sexy ‘fuck me’ shoes because I was that age, stripper heels a plenty, a pair of New Rock’s I bartered for because I couldn’t afford them but wanted them SO badly.

High heeled boots that covered my knees and goth boots with thick tower heels and lots of overly aggressive studs and zips and chains. I had very little to give a shit about in those days and shoes were my true love. Then I met handbags… oh boy.! 😀 I had a major clear out a year or so ago. Getting rid of at least 30 handbags, my last few pairs of stripper heels, my beautiful skintight sexy jeans that had stopped fitting me about 20 years before… but you know, still kinda fitted if I didn’t eat for a week and breathed in real hard and pulled my corset to it’s tightest fitting… Oh, to be 18 again.!

Did you know Valentine’s Day was actually the Roman Feast of Lupercalia back in 300BC.? Yeah, they sacrificed dogs or goats, skinned them and beat women with the skins to enhance their fertility. Pretty sure the only thing that would have been enhanced with me would have been my homicidal tendencies. Whose dumb idea was it that whipping women with animal skins made them more fertile and how the hell did they come to that conclusion.? I’d say it had to be a bloke, but then you’d all start at me about sexism, and feminism and all that PC BS, but be fair, what woman would come to the conclusion that she needed to be belted with goat skin to be in with a chance of conceiving quicker.?

My father taught me that if it’s not working right, smack it. How we got from beating women with goat skins to buying tons of chocolate and flowers and jewellery is a mystery, but one wonders if it’s not in fact a result of the goat skin beatings, by way of apology. “I’m sorry your Roman ancestors got beaten with animal skins by my Roman ancestors, here, have some chocolate and a pretty bracelet in apology”. 😀 It’s an evolutionary genetic dysfunction that the big corporations that benefit from all the apology gift buying take full advantage of.! And so we have commercialism.

Luckily we don’t do that shit in this house. Commercialism can stay the hell out of my relationship. Bear knows I forgive his ancestors and I know he would never even consider beating me with dead goat skin, so we good. He buys me flowers when he sees some he thinks I’ll like and replaces the chocolates and jewellery with beer and shoes when I get all glassy eyed and drool-y in front of a shoe store. Which to be fair isn’t often as I don’t go out much so there’s not much need for shoes and he’s not the bedroom shoes kind… unfortunately. 😉

Bear agreed to the stripper heels but made it clear he’ll only wear them at home. It’s a start. 😀 Today he’s on a late shift which means he’ll be gone from 2.45pm until 11.30pm. Currently he’s walking the streets with a political colleague asking people about the complaints that have been made about the assholes who use their street as a racetrack. I hear them. It used to piss me off when the local reprobates used the road we used to live on as a racetrack, until some twat bent his fancy BMW around a tree and I went outside and cheered him. Dumbass.

Nice car though. It settled down quite a bit after that and then we moved here. Now I just have noisy, obnoxious asshole neighbours and wheezy moped guy to tolerate. Who woke me up again yesterday morning, the little turd, talking to his-damn-self about how cold it was, and how he couldn’t believe it was that cold. If it’s too cold for you pal, stay the fuck at home and let me sleep.

Stripper Heels, Climie Fisher & Enchilada Sauce (No, this is not a porn post.!)

Anyone know where I can get a pair of women’s heeled wingtips.? I’ve searched through dozens of online stores and local store websites, but everywhere is sold out. What gives.? How many of you own a recently bought pair.? Size 9.5 US/40EU/7UK.? Can I borrow them please.? Please…? I’ve set my heart on a pair and typically they’re nowhere to be found. I bet if I wanted stripper heels there wouldn’t be any either. 😦 Not that I want stripper heels, those days are far gone now, my poor ankles couldn’t handle those dizzy heights anymore.

I was winding my sister up last night, asking if jeans were okay and what kind of t-shirts were acceptable, and would she be okay if I wore my DM’s.? 😀 She knows I’ll turn up dressed to the nine’s, but it’s always fun to goad her a little. Bear of course would wear jeans and a band t-shirt to her wedding if she said it was okay, so I’ve told her I’ve been trying to get him into a suit and to work with me. No luck on finding anything even remotely suitable for a guy his size, so it looks like a bespoke job. I did find an awesome pair of men’s silver glitter stripper heels though… figured Bear wouldn’t entertain the idea… but I’m gonna ask him anyway. 😀

Now I have to start looking for a wedding present. Currently, I’m listening to my 80’s playlist on Spotify… I know Climie Fisher is a part of it, but man, that guy’s voice just grates on my nerves, I may have to remove him. Tonight’s delectable gem is fajita pasta. I’ve already made guac to go with it and there’s black beans and corn to go in it. Gotta make Enchilada sauce but that shouldn’t be too hard, as long as I don’t eat it before I need to use it. I’m a sucker for enchilada sauce, especially with tortilla chips… Nom.! 🙂

Wedding Outfits, Lunch & Hair Dye Disasters

I’ve been searching for a wedding outfit for Bear and getting just a little more than thoroughly fed up with it. As far as your average clothing stores and men’s outfitters are concerned men only grow to 6’4″ and have 30″ legs. There is literally nothing in Bear’s size. The only Tall Man’s outfitter’s I can find cater to tall, but chunky men… so Bear is tall enough but too slim for their suits. At this rate we’ll have to mix and match or pay a damned fortune for a bespoke suit he likely will never wear again. 😦

He took me out to lunch today after getting his hair cut at the barber’s. We tried the new restaurant on the top floor of the library building. It’s high enough to look out over the town and see all the lovely old buildings. Architects knew what style was back in the early 19th century before some idiot decided his bank balance was far more important and dumped concrete blocks everywhere, covered the tops in tar and gravel and called them homes.

Lunch was amazing. I had a goat’s cheese burger with mushrooms and spinach on a rustic roll with mixed pepper salad and home-made chips. Bear had pulled beef in a sweet and sour sauce with chips. I also made an appointment at the salon for mid-March. I’m having the blonde part of my hair dyed deep copper, so when it washes out and it will, probably before the wedding if my history is anything to go by, it’ll be a bright peach colour, which is what I’m aiming for anyway.

In June 2015 I dyed my hair a beautiful shade of Flame red. It was absolutely gorgeous until I washed it for the first time a week later… when it washed out to an ugly brownish salmon pink colour. As it grew out and was washed over and over it faded to a pale salmon pink. I hated it so much at the end of that year I shaved my head. In January 2019 I had it dyed bright purple, within a month it was pale blue, green and yellow… instead of the lovely pale lilac I was told it would be.

So I’m a bit dubious about the deep copper colour, but the stylist assures me it will fade to a peach colour. If it goes fucking salmon pink again, I’m going to be really pissed.

Spring, Liars & Awesome Curry

Spring has officially sprung here… we have snowdrops, bluebells and Narcissi flowering and I’ve even spotted a crocus or two. It seems to be getting earlier and earlier, if we’re not careful we’ll get summer in May and I really don’t need that… although Autumn in August would be pretty cool. There is a rumour we may get snow at some point this month. It’s only a rumour so I’m not hoping too hard… okay, yes I am.

So much for not having political meetings until March.! The sneaky bastards have arranged a meeting for tomorrow night and for next Wednesday evening. If this is what they call NOT having meetings, my faith in their promises to NOT do stuff is going to fade fast. One thing I cannot abide is liars. Bear is keeping tight-lipped on the subject, which is probably just as well, he’s a terrible liar.

He can’t keep eye contact and his face goes red, but only when he’s lying to my face. Apparently, that shit doesn’t work when he’s bullshitting like a boss over a webcam… which perhaps is a good thing, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. 😀 Tonight I made THE most awesome veggie curry, from a recipe on the website Hurry The Food Up. Best veggie curry I’ve had to date, and I made it.! Of course I have to share it, everyone should have awesome veggie curry… right.?

80's Music, Immigrants & a Narcissistic Control Freak

Finally got my ass out of bed at 11.30am today, having only gotten 4 hours sleep during the night. Didn’t need to do much chores-wise as Bear is on early shifts and doesn’t move much in the evenings, so doesn’t make a mess. I put Spotify on before breakfast and have had outbreaks of finger drumming and air guitaring all afternoon… it’s weird how your opinion of 80’s music changes when you’re bopping along to it, singing all the lyrics and head banging.

I finally found the familial connection between me and the guy from Massachusetts… took hours of researching every line of his family tree to suddenly discover everyone had congregated in Canada in the early 1800’s and gone from there… in my case, my lot buggered off to Canada, which is understandable when you live in Lincolnshire, and began building houses and schools and probably bars all over the place and marrying other immigrants and spreading the wealth.

Then at some point, a relative of mine married a relative of his, decided to move to the good ol’ U.S of A. and Voilà! fourth cousins… I’ve sent all the research I did to him, as he knew very little about his family and I’m a bit of an old hand at tracking down evasive family members. He’s a lucky man, his great, great grandmother is still alive. She was born in 1924… that’s some good genes.

My son, through the bollocks talking, informed me that his father is asking after him and making tentative moves to regain contact. He’s not sure he wants to though, which is fine with me, as his father is a manipulative narcissist, who controls people with emotional blackmail, intimidation and threatened violence. He treated me and my kids like shit for years. I walked away, and it was only last year that he decided he didn’t want to be bothered with his kids anymore, so told our eldest son he was out on the streets at the beginning of September, having bled him dry financially.

Bear and I, and my parents helped him out and got him a flat, while he got himself a new job and found someone to help him move out of his Dad’s… and he’s doing really well on his own. It’s stressful as he has to budget for all the bills and utilities, and it’s not easy when you’re a single guy, but he’s doing it himself and standing on his own two feet. Which his father hates. So now he wants to make contact again… I don’t need to warn my son of the consequences of doing it, he knows only too well and it’s his choice.

Tonight is Italian night, with courgette and tomato gratin and Italian seasoned baked cod for dinner. Then an episode each of Star Trek: Voyager, Jessica Jones and You.

Pear Shaped Toast & Distant Relatives

I’ve started looking at wedding outfits for next month. It’s not a lot of fun. I’m not what you’d consider curvy and despite losing 30lbs in the past 6 months, I haven’t lost more than a couple of inches all over, so I haven’t even dropped a dress size. I’m an upside down pear shape apparently, according to the Dorothy Perkins website… how that’s supposed to help me find the right size for me I have no idea. I think it’s time I ventured out to a real shop and tried stuff on.

Finally managed to track my son down, who decided to call really late last night and talk bollocks for almost 2 hours. 😀 Poor Bear was lolling while I was trying to extricate myself from a conversation about the benefits of toast and what shade of brown is best, so we could go to bed as he’s on an early today. It’s a good thing he can sleep through pretty much anything because Storm Ciara kept me awake, howling down the street and making numerous attempts at ripping the bushes up by the roots all night long.

There’s not too much damage locally, but tons of it on the other side of town, with trees having fallen across roads and the roof of an apartment building pulled up and hanging over the side of the building. Best thing is, it kept wheezy moped guy from coming round.! \o/ So I got to sleep in until 6.10am… Yeah… not that good huh.? Today, I received a message from a guy in Massachusetts who may be distantly related to me, through my father’s 2 x great grandparents.

Still trying to figure it out, as he knows next to nothing beyond his grandparents, just the odd name here and there that his mother remembers. It’s fun researching and trying to figure it out, so that’s what I’ve spent a few hours doing today, while browsing BonPrix and Torrid and other plus size online stores… I did see a nice jumpsuit with a tropical floral design organza cape… have to show Bear, see what he thinks. I have a nice beetroot linguine planned for this evening, with walnuts and feta.

Pastry, Fucking Pastry & The Namer of Storms

I hate pastry. I really fucking hate pastry and it hates me. Even store bought pastry hates me. It refuses to just unroll, it has to stretch and tear and stick to the damn paper, by the time it’s usable, it no longer is because it’s shapeless, full of holes and almost transparent in places. The slices of puff pastry are no better, if the filling isn’t pulped, it’ll rip bloody great holes in the pastry while it bakes. It’s always too thin to do a damned thing with.

So you ball it up and knead it and try to roll it out yourself at which point it won’t roll out, keeps shrinking and instead of sticking together as it’s supposed to when you seal it with milk, it slides around, sticks to your fingers and generally pisses you off as much as possible while rendering itself unusable. So you chuck it in the fuck-it bucket and have burgers and chips for dinner instead.! I’m not using pastry again. If there’s pastry involved Bear can do it.

The girl child lost her match yesterday, not unexpected, as her team had never played that particular team before and had no idea as to their abilities or strengths. The boy child helped me fuck up the pizza rolls and we ate what was passably edible and I watched Star Wars Rebels on Disney+ while he built pixel art on the Xbox, we saved the rest for Bear, who said he’d deal with the pizza rolls later. I didn’t write a word all day because I was too strung out and pissed off about the pastry.

I’m looking forward to going to the Mommy’s later. Bear’s taking the kids into school, so they don’t have to cycle and has told their mother she needs to pick them up around 4, because the weather report says it’s gonna be bad in their neck of the woods and he won’t have them cycling home in gale force winds. She’s become a bit of a hands-off Mum since her marriage last July. Her entire world revolves around her husband and herself and the kids come second.

They’ll be moving to a new house in March, which is closer to their school by 3.3 miles. It’ll save them both around 6.5 miles a day of cycling. The boy child is extremely pleased about that. He hates cycling. He’d hate walking too. He hates anything to do with getting his ass off the settee that doesn’t involve food. Much like Bear. Storm Ciara has decided to pay us a visit… who makes up these names.? Do they get paid to.? Is there going to be a Storm Colin or a Hurricane Nigel at some point.?

Oooh, how about Storm Amanda and Hurricane Darren.? No, those were not suggestions. Jeez.!

UPDATE: Bear made pastry… and as with everything else in this house, it worked perfectly. He made pizza rolls, they rolled no problem, baked no problem and didn’t fall to bloody pieces… I hate pastry.! 😦

Teenagers, Pizza Rolls & World Domination

Yesterday, I did all the boring stuff I was supposed to… vacuumed up- and downstairs, did the laundry, sorted the dishwasher, had a shower, cleaned the bathroom… and then the kids turned up… and it all went to shit.! They tracked dirt in on their shoes because they didn’t think to wipe their feet on the mat because… teenagers.! Dumped their stuff on the floor in the living room and commandeered the sofa and every electrical socket within a 10 foot radius. Then the boy child decides he needs to use the newly squeaky clean bathroom…

Why do people do that.? They wait until the bathroom has just been cleaned, and then go and use it.? They can’t go before it gets cleaned, they have to go immediately afterwards… “Oh, I didn’t need to go before you cleaned it,” they tell you, “but it smells lovely.” Like that makes it worth the 45 minutes you just spent cleaning everywhere and negates the fact they’ve just flushed the bloody expensive anti-lime toilet cleaner you squirted in there straight down the drain. Thanks kid. Next time, you can clean the loo.

Today, Bear’s taking the girl child to volleyball while the boy child and I refrain from engaging in intelligent conversation. He’s a typical teen, you speak, he grunts. I’m not too bad at grunt language… having learned it with my two boys. We’re seeing The Mommy tomorrow after Bear’s taken them home, as they have Musical Practice. According to the weather report it’s going to get very wet and blustery around these parts for a day or two. I’d look forward to it if there was a chance of snow, but yet again the good stuff passes us by.

I’ve decided to make pizza rolls for the kids to take for lunch tomorrow. I made them little pasties the last time and they were a damned nuisance to make, so I’ll see how I get on with pizza rolls. I might make lots, just so I don’t have to cook tomorrow and Bear and I can veg in front of the TV. Talking to the girl child this morning, I’m informed that she has chosen to take Biology, Chemistry, Physics, Maths, History, English and Latin in her next year of school. It means she’ll be doing 7 hours a week of Maths and 12 hours of sciences, with 4 hours each of Latin and History.!

Like her father, she’s highly intelligent… and after four more years of that little lot, I’ll expect her to become a rocket scientist, or marine biologist or mad scientist bent on world domination… that I can help with.! 😀

The Belfast Belter

The Life and Times of a retired Soldier, Boxer, Pilot, Husband, Father and Grandfather

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tales of untruths

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My memoir. Where I cuss a lot.

SURVIVE THE APOCALYPSE.

All about ADVENTURE FICTION, writing, travel, movies & more. By Clemens P. Suter.

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