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Tuesday, 31 March 2009

in which I am not tempted

I omitted to tell all about a couple of telephone encounters with chaps from the Somerset Gazette. 'Two's Company' their dating section offers a wide selection of unemployed, ill-educated, no-hopers, unfit for the discerning gel.
For a start, when you access the thing the voice on the other end explains what the hash key is. 'The hash key is usually located under the number nine on your keypad and looks like a noughts and crosses grid', well thanks for that but some residents of Somerset have come in from outside and aren't webbed footed sister marriers!
The first one who returned my call spent 10 mins explaining to me how he'd just written a letter to the council to object to a school being built at the end of his road. Then, how a woman he'd met had only wanted a visa to stay in the country. He didn't ask me anything about myself and was really surprised and asked 'why' when I wished him luck in his search and said I didn't want to meet him.
The second one who sounded rather nice initially, started off by telling me tales of woe regarding his ex wife. He went on the say that he was rather hoping to meet a woman who lived near Bridgwater since he didn't have a car. Incidentally, he was also unemployed, lived in a housing association house, was eagerly awaiting removal to a BUNGALOW, but, and this was really tempting, would 'treat' me to lunch at a Wetherspoons if I made the journey to see him.
A Wetherspoons indeed, methinks the Daily Telegraph and the Times have more to offer me and I'll leave that lot for the more easily impressed idiot women at work.

Monday, 30 March 2009

In which 'Big' returns from the dead and I am not amused.

I can't believe it. 'Big' has just sent a stupid cryptic email.
How dare he not be dead!
Edward said that just because someone hasn't contacted me for a few days, doesn't mean they've snuffed it, just that they may have something better to do. SOMETHING BETTER TO DO! I don't think so. He's been emailing me about fifteen times a day and then phoning every night, and then, nothing for days.
I was just about to swoon in manner of pre-raphaelite heroine and get all thin and pale and the git turns up. I am not amused.
If I'd known he was still in the land of the living, I'd have let 'Kilt' snog me even more. I had visions of him wasting away into a coma of unrequited love and all the time I bet he's been sitting on the sofa wearing greying y fronts an 'Onslow' type vest, picking his feet, farting and burping. Well, it's enough to make you run into the arms of a rich bloke with a boat. No doubt he'll worm his way back into my affections with some witicism. He'd better be good though because I've definitely still got it, at least as far as 'Kilt' is concerned.

Saturday, 28 March 2009

in which I am snogged in a car park

Three face packs, intensive conditioning on hair, exfoliated, oiled, shrinked wrapped in power panty spanx - and I'm off!
He was rather handsome and he turned up exactly on time, a minor miracle since he lives in Dorset. Perhaps he was hiding somewhere and counting down the minutes.
Initially there was rather too much talk about ex wife, ex girlfriends etc. Why do these blokes think everyone's interested in their past conquests? I'm certainly not and I wouldn't dream of boring them with tales of Ian and his predecessors.
Just before I left 'Boat' called. I put him off with a slight untruth,well a big fat lie, actually, but I called him as soon as I came home.
Anyway, when he'd offloaded (Kilt shall we call this one) all the info about marriage, squeezes etc. 'getting all that out of the way' he called it, he began to gaze longingly in the direction of my chest and started stroking my hand! It was really rather thrilling, but rather than the desired effect I wanted to burst out laughing!
He was married to a German Vicar who's hobby is tapdancing! A sodding tap dancing vicar - I thought, this is food and drink to my blog!!
All through the hand stroking and gazing into my eyes all I could think about was that. Fortunately before I'd left home, just before kit inspection at Shirley's, I'd stubbed my little toe on the bed, and the pain served to stop me giggling.
He was also rather keen on my hair and wanted to know if I was a natural blonde. I lied, of course! I did let him touch it though, oh the power, it's flamin' intoxicating!
Anyway, come time to leave, I thought he was just going to give me a peck on the cheek. WAS I WRONG. He swept me into his arms, flung me against his car and snogged me to within an inch of my life. AND IT WAS RATHER NICE.
Snogging in a car park at my age! I think I may take it up as a hobby. By the way, I've figured out what it means when they describe themselves as 'tactile'.
When I got home an email arrived to say he'd like to see me again. I bet he would.
I phoned 'Boat' who is so lovely and he told me he's going to tell his daughters about me. I've agreed to meet him next Sunday.
I am worried about 'Big' He hasn't emailed or phoned for two days now. He hasn't even been on the dating website to see if I've been there, so he can tell me off. I said to Edward that I thought he must have snuffed it. Edward informed me that maybe 'Big' had better things to do. That can't be true, can it?

Friday, 27 March 2009

in which I win a wet T-shirt contest

I am dripping wet. Just got up, middle of poxy night again, for a drink, having been woken up by 'special needs pussy' leaping in through the bedroom window. Thought I'd have a glass of fizzy water. Unscrewed lid, went off with volcanic proportions. Am clear winner in wet T-shirt contest. Sadly, no one here to see it! Special needs pussy, who was at that moment, rubbing around my ankles begging for food, scarpered pretty sharpish I can tell you!
Had lovely day with BF Lunch, shopping etc. Should have been here fumigating teenage son's bedroom. Oh well, he couldn't care less. Can anyone tell me why teenage boy's bedrooms smell like hamster cages?
Had squillions of sad old gits looking at my profile and a few emails too. One cheeky blighter emailed me to ask what my body type was. He said my face looked 'cool' a rather stupid word for a sixty one year old to bandy about, and HE had no photo at all. So presumably, he wants a detailed plan of my proportions before I get to even look at his face! Anyhow, he'll think he's 'very attractive' they all do! I have described myself as 'curvaceous' which I think is fairly self explanatory! I go in and out in all the right places. OK, so maybe a little bit more than I used to but what the hell, I wouldn't think many would kick me out of bed!
All academic anyway. 'Big' is best. 'Big' is the one for me. 'Big' hasn't been online, emailed or phoned my for a whole day. He better have a note from his mum!

Thursday, 26 March 2009

in which I am livid

Pasty faced moron thinking she's amusing says 'Wot ya gonna do now yerv lost all that weight when men start chasing yer?' Stupid bint! If she's got a husband there's hope for everyone! 'I'm going to let at least one of them catch me' I said.
She muscled in on my art class this afternoon and made a willy out of air drying clay. I ask you, a WILLY. 'I got my second 'usband out of the paper' she said. Obviously lost and found I thought. Anyway, she wobbled around the room all afternoon annoying me beyond belief. Eat my super power pantie spanx, you ill educated trollope!
Speaking of power pantie spanx, I need to track down the inventor and snog his face off. They clutch everything in and make it all smooth, although heaven only knows what one does when one wants a wee!
I want to go to the art exhibition in Fitzhead on Saturday and can't find an escort. Maybe I'll go on my own.
No more art classes this week, oh joy oh bliss!

Wednesday, 25 March 2009

In which I broke a nail

It's official, there is no God, and if there is she is a man! Had to call paramedics this morning, I broke a nail. Hurricaine Herbert was buffeting up the hill, I had my hands full of stuff and I ended up with such mad hair, all stuck to my lip gloss, that I couldn't see what I was doing and ripped off a nail on the car door. That was the start of what has proven to be a shit day. If I have to tie off any more strung beads this week I swear I'll sling the bloody things over the nearest beam and hang myself! There was an item on radio Somerset last week about the guinness world record having been broken for the longest string of beads. EXCUSE ME! I don't think so. I regularly break all records with one of my charges. All afternoon it's been kissing, shreiking, grabbing and yelling, and that was just me. AND there's never anything nutritious to eat in the flamin' place. Chicken pie and brussel sprouts that had been cooking since at least February. Yuk! I had a sodding banana again. And just to put the tin hat on the day I got all the ones who should have been at horseriding. Horses? What's the point of animals you can't eat! Last day of the week tomorrow, yippee!!!!!!

Tuesday, 24 March 2009

in which I am cheesed off with work

What an absolutely horrible day. Christina is right, I have to get out of there before I go bonkers. There is never any progress, just a huge industry, not to mention amount of money, being pumped into passing the time for the poor sods until they die.
Spent all lunchtime trying to get one to eat some soup when he'd rather just pace up and down outside smoking. Then again, so would I.
Vile husband was yesterday charged with getting a repeat prescription for Edward, since I'm gainfully employed whilst the telephone line is open. Could he do it? Could he f**k! If he turns up here expecting food this week so help me I'll give him a chinese burn on the willy, wearing my marigolds of course.
I saw the 'man in the cupboard' the other day who asked me if my 'ex' was actually living in the flat over the bank because there were never any lights on. I told him I thought that the electricity had probably been cut off. He asked me to pay the bill. Trish said if I did, she'd have me sectioned.
Over Wivey II is on the easel, back to it.

'Big' I shall behave like a grown-up

Well, it's official, I've gone completely bonkers! I think my brain shrinkage is directly linked to my arse shrinkage. Maybe I had a fat brain! Anyway, I've lost all control of my senses and my trousers. I wonder if it's possible to get a belt to hold my failing mind up. I have promised to be friends with 'Big', at least for the time being. He has a long term plan I understand. I always have a list, short term and long term plan. They never come to pass. I would just love to throw caution to the wind. After all what has anyone got to lose! How could anyone pass up the chance of love and happiness in this world? I certainly wouldn't!
I shall behave in a seemly fashion as far as I can, which isn't very far, I'm afraid.
For now, I shall cycle off on my excersise bike, into my dreamworld, with my jim-jam bottoms falling off my newly-toned arse! so there!
Hey ho my thighs are looking rather good! I shall cross and un-cross my legs seductively all day.

Monday, 23 March 2009

in which BIG is BACK

Well, 'Big' is back. Thank goodness for that. I know I'm silly, but he behaves like a teenager too, so that's obviously why we hit it off. If I ever get my hands on him...
I've lost a serious amount of weight lately and can now remove all my trousers without undoing them. I may take that act on the road in the summer. I was walking up the stairs at work today and one of the women shouted 'your arse is looking really good' quite what she was doing looking at my arse is a prospect too frightening for a delicate girl like me.
Having taken delivery of a new exercise bike, I was in the process of bunging the packaging outside the flat when the door blew shut. It was 2.30pm and I was still in my jim-jams. My jim-jams are very flimsy indeed and I had to dash across the carpark, barefoot, until I managed to locate someone who'd let me into their flat until Ed came home from vile husband's.
'Boat' has lost points for spelling my name wrong in an email. I expect devotion from these chaps and I intend to get it!
I've had a very trying day with my charges. Sometimes I have to go outside and repeatedly bash my head against the wall. Trouble is, they all join in!

Saturday, 21 March 2009

in which I find it necessary to bin 'Big'

Following a period of intense emails and telephone calls, it has proven necessary to bin 'Big'. 'Boat' remains in the lead for sheer consistency and general all round 'good blokeness'! 'Barrow' is leaning up the potting shed somewhere waiting for someone to put a smile on his face.
If 'Big' had taken the plunge at the beginning and come down here to see me, I expect it would have been rather a passionate affair. But, although passion would be divine, I want more than that. I don't need 'saving' from my life, I just want someone in it with me! 'Boat' who popped up right at the beginning of the internet dating experience has hung in there. He saw me, contacted me, and then simply removed himself from the website. Now that could be because he saw, and heard, what he liked and didn't need to bother any more. Or it could be sheer laziness! He was really lovely having listened to my radio interview about my work with autistic people and, indeed, my own son. He phoned me immediately and said how he was looking forward to meeting Edward. 'Big' on the other hand, didn't even bother to listen! I didn't keep 'Barrow' in that loop since he is already rather a morose character. I think I'll let him ride off on his lawnmower into the distance.
So, given the facts, why is it 'Big' I still want? Perhaps it all woke up something that I thought had gone out of my life forever. Who knows?

Friday, 13 March 2009

in which I am in love...

It's true. You can fall in love with someone's voice. Especially if you have a lovely picture of them too. Last night I had two telephone calls from prospective partners. The first one was the very posh Aircraft Carrier Captain, who, it now turns out is even better connected than first thought! I really like the sound of him and am looking forward to meeting him at Easter.
Then, I had lots of emails from the chap who's been contacting me for long chats throughout the last week or so. Not wishing to get a numb bum from sitting at my desk, I emailed him and asked if he'd like my telephone number. We spoke almost through the night. He sounds, and looks like Ray Winstone. Definitely a much more suitable match for me. Why is it that someone like me always attracts well bred rich types? That's not really what I want at all. I'd be really happy with a 'bloke' who'd treat me properly, look after me and be quiet while I watch Coronation Street!

Horrid man phones me

The quest for a new partner, God I hate that word, but boyfriend sounds ridiculous at my age, is hotting up. Weird people pop up regularly. Today, one that I left a message for in the newspaper called. Wow, there's a very nasty chap. Had a list of questions for me almost all based on what I looked like. It was like an interview. Clearly he was so wonderful he didn't require any questioning from me. Then when I mentioned I was separated from my husband he said 'I wouldn't dream of discussing my ex with you, we can leave that until a later date, if and when I decide to meet you.'
I did begin to say that I wasn't intending to discuss my ex with him either, I was merely pointing out my marital status, and, he hung up! I just couldn't believe it!
Naval gentleman is still out in front. Though am growing a bit keen on the witty one who emails me about 20 times per night.

Friday, 6 March 2009

In which I am not posh enough...

Last night was the first time I've spoken to anyone from the dating website. When I first began this kind of thing to meet someone new I happened upon a recorded message from someone who worked for the united nations. He sounded fantastic, widely travelled, educated, witty and had a house on Dartmoor. I didn't follow up on that one believing him to be too posh for me. I shouldn't have been quite so hasty, since he wasn't well bred enough to be the man servant of the one I had a long conversation with last night!
He sounded rather nice and certainly very interesting but I don't think he'd have much in common with a girl from the secondary modern in Luton! However, I couldn't get him off the phone and we chatted without any embarrassing silences for over an hour and a half.
He was married to an artist and one of his daughters is one too. I followed the link to her website and she is indeed a 'proper' artist. He has four daughters all with interesting professions and who have quite obviously been well educated. In fact it was they who put him on the dating website. I should think they'd go into shock if they thought he was interested in me!

Thursday, 5 March 2009

silly me

It's riduculous, I'm emailing someone on the Telegraph dating website and so the first thing I do when I get in from work is log in. Today - no message and I feel down hearted. How stupid is that? I haven't even spoken to the chap. I must be more desperate than I'd previously thought. The young girls at work are all urging me to make a date with him, but I haven't been out on a date for over twenty years, for goodness sake.
Work is still pretty grim, although today was ok. I think I'd better look around for something else. Vile husband is now going back to working 8 hours per week instead of 16 so that he can get mortgage relief. How lovely!