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Friday, 24 May 2013

In which One has issues with the downmarket emporium; Lidls…

Dutifully fronted up on the Barbican yesterday to bung a few masterpieces in some new Bistro.  One had thought One was doing a favour for The N Person, but no, according to Posh J, he was doing One one.  Ah well, dunnit anyway, so hopefully will flog something, though can’t quite see the great unwashed forking out many hundreds of pounds for a pic when all they went in for was a pasty and a pee.

Have left Kaya a bit depleted though, so au contrere to having a ‘Come Dine with Me’ TV fest and a snuggle on the sofa under me blankie, shall have to sharpen me paintbrush and knock a big one out for Monday.

Could really kick something or someone today. No particular reason, just in more of a bad temper than usual.  As was Boy when I biffed up at his gaff to take him to work, complete with freshly laundered shirts.  He had a face like a wet weekend and was a surly little shite to boot!

Have been reduced to shopping in Lidl, did you ever, Dear Reader!

One!  One who had a slave to get One’s groceries when residing in Hampstead, whilst, of course, another looked after Boy and yet another cleaned me gaff whilst she awaited delivery of One’s laundry.

Ah well, at least have had it all at some point!  AND am most adaptable.  As long as One has a plentiful supply of Pinot Grigio and access to a Vindaloo on a Friday night, One is reasonably affable to all and sundry.

BUT THAT DOES NOT INCLUDE…

The eejits in Lidl, who this morning had covers over all the refrigerated section.  Obv everyone was avoiding those areas assuming they were closed. 

‘Can you tell me when the refrigerated section will be open again?’ enquired Lovely One, having offloaded the entire contents of trolley onto the conveyor belt.

‘Oh they ain’t shut.  They can’t get the temperature right so the shutters are down.  Did you want something?’

‘WELL NOT NOW,’ One spat through gritted teggies, ‘and don’t you think it would be a good idea to put some kind of notice to that effect on them?’

THE GORMLESS EEJIT JUST SAT THERE WITH HIS GOB OPEN.

Tuesday, 21 May 2013

In which One is forever the unwanted prophet…

Let me ask you a question, Dear Reader: If you ordered a new skirt and had to return it since it had an imperfection, would you be mollified by a pair of trousers by return?

NO YOU WOULD NOT

And so it was thus that having returned some faulty 10x8 frames to the eejits I buy them from, they were affronted that I complained when they replaced them with 8x8’s

One would dearly loved to have verbally lashed the blighters into submission, but unfortunately until One finds a replacement supplier One has to keep something of a ‘lid on it.’

Any road up, all is not shite in the Underground Lair at the mo: No sooner than the Whitby gallery unpacked One’s three masterpieces, than a couple of bods from the smoke fell immediately in love with one and acquired it before it even made it on to the wall!

Oh goodo!  Another month of lobster and fois gras pour Moi.

Although, as previously stated in this diary, One is still like the Baby Jesus: ie not accepted in One’s home town.

Only yesterday whilst having One’s silken locks attended to by One’s hairdresser when she blithely referred to my doings as ‘a hobby.’

A HOBBY – A FECKING HOBBY

DON’T THESE LITTLE PEOPLE KNOW WHO ONE IS?

Do they imagine that Damien Hirst knocks out a dot painting in the evening following a stint stacking shelves at the local Tesco?

Do they think that Tracy Emin screws up an unmade bed upon her return from a shift on the lampshade counter in Woolworths?

NO NO NO

AND IT IS THE SAME FOR YOUR VERY OWN LOVELY ONE

IF THE INTELLECTUALLY CHALLENGED IN-BREDS FROM THE HILLS THINK THEY ARE GETTING A TWEE LITTLE FACIMILIE OF GOLDEN HILL FOR TWENTY FIVE QUID AT THE TEN PARISHES FESTIVAL THEY ARE SADLY MISTAKEN.

Bow down you unappreciative dollops! One has moved onward and upward these past years!

AND DON’T YOU EVER FORGET IT

Saturday, 18 May 2013

In which One is sleeping One’s life away…

Fronted up at 10 Radio upon the command of Princess P, who, incidentally was wearing a coat FROM MATALAN, if you ever did.

Met by an extremely slender chap of suitable seriousness for one so lacking in flesh, and barrelled up the stairs to ‘do me bit.’

Don’t know who pulled at the last minute, but, no matter, PP just shot a few questions at One and One launched into the shameless self promoting diatribe that One has practically memorised.

Added in a few age related quips re: Princess P to get a titter, but apart from that bored the tits off everyone with the usual load of old boll-diddly-ollicks.

At least two people were listening as they phoned in to say hello.

Following a v interesting trip to the butchers and the co-op trundled off back to the underground lair to wack off a bit of work.

The afternoon nap has now fast forwarded to the degree that One is snuggled back up in the truckle bed by the end of the One O’clock news.  Am now kipping at least 14 hours per day.  Boredom? Out of control sugar levels? General despair?  Who knows?  Who gives a feck?

Have to biff off to Plymouth next week in order to get One’s stuff in a bistro down there. (am swapping with posh J who is shearing back to Oxford with her hubbster)  Good luck to her!  ‘Tis ‘knock for knock’ now, to give the doings an insurance flavour.

At least she won’t end up like me! 

Thursday, 16 May 2013

In which One is dying for something funny to happen…



Am still a fiendish floozy…
A lonely one though.  One needs to get a cat for company and begin the long furry descent into mad-old-woman-with-cats-dom.
Saw G/F or is it F/G?  Who knows? Was speculating that the sister ugg numero Uno has devalued the underground lair and the other cells within the block as her antics are so well known hereabouts.
Hence the new arrivals next door who float sublimely above such doings in a miasma of septuagenarian serenity.
Not so for Lovely One who still has full set of marbles unfortunately, and spends many a moon tossing in the truckle bed dreaming of liberation.
The latest subject for her ferret like grip is the damp in One’s kitchen.  Or rather the lack of it.  One is not even in the slightest bit – moist.  Do these strange bods imagine that One is living amongst wall-mounted fungi just to annoy them?  It beggars belief!

NOTHING FUNNY EVER HAPPENS ANY MORE

Must get a ‘position’ somewhere in order to ridicule others.  Fat chance of that though!  One is in a severe state of advanced decay with one thing and another and can now barely creak up the road to the square without having an attack of the vapours.
Any road up, shall have to today as some blighter has pulled and Princess P wants some old sap (me) to fill in on the wireless for half an hour – 9.30 until 10.00am on 10radio if yer interested.

Boy has just written his first press release.  Go Boy Go.  Shall have to live vicariously in his shadow from now on. 

Tuesday, 14 May 2013

In which One is still on track…

One’s new resolve has been met with surprise, if not downright indignation from some parties.

TOUGH TIT

One is henceforth rid of the hand-wringing need to pity/help/finance/placate/mollify anyone whom One suspects of having ulterior motives.

BO-BODELLY-BO-BO-OLLOKS

Thus far have…

Not fallen prey to the whining AP’s pleas for One to visit.  Am getting own back for her never bothering to look after Boy.

Not working in an unsuitable job in order for someone else to do what they want.  AND STILL WAITING TO BE PAID FOR THE LAST TIME

Not accepting Boy’s laundry in the ‘bringing one shirt at a time when he feels like it’ way and instead INSISTING  it is delivered on Fridays in order that One can do it all together. (I KNOW, ACTUALLY DOING IT IS HARDLY PUTTING ONE’S FOOT DOWN)

AM NO LONGER FLAPPING ABOUT LIKE SOME KIND OF LATTER DAY MILDRED PIERCE; PUTTING MY NEEDS AT THE BACK OF THE QUEUE.

New stuff arrives in Whitby today…

Today North Yorkshire – tomorrow the world!!

Ma Ha Ha

 

Sunday, 12 May 2013

In which One could bite a nail in half…

Am miffed in extremis this morning!

Sunday morning is a Rice Rite and constitutes mangeeing toast and blackcurrant jam (dans le Truckle Bed) washed down with lashings of Espresso whilst listening to the Archer’s Omnibus…

Having eschewed the ridiculously expensive Sky phone contract and biffed off to Talk Talk One has no way of monitoring the numbers of callers and so it was thus that One answered the thing to AP…

AP    Hello what are you doing?

LO    I’m listening to the Archers.  Can I call you back?

AP     I’ve already heard them all and anyway Delphine’s daughter has got pots of money (she’s got ever such a good job), I don’t know what it is though and she’s taking them to a big posh hotel for the weekend.

LO    Oh that’s nice for them.

AP     He’s eighty and she’s eighty soon.  Have you looked at Jackie’s shoes?  I’m sick of that hospital.  They said my leg is getting better and then it’s not and now they want me to have a plate put in.

(presumably in addition to the one in her head)

LO     When will they do that?

AP     In six bloody months!  I think it’s either that they’re doing everything for them or it’s because I’m eighty-three.  Anyway I go around on me crutches at home.

LO    Until you fall downstairs again.  Have you had any luck with another place to live?

AP     They’ve given all them alms houses to them and all the bungalows.  Me and Eileen were talking about it and we know there aren’t any left.

LO    Have you asked the council?  I’m sure they would be delighted to have a three bedroomed house for someone who needs it.

AP    There’s been three shootings up here.

LO     Good enough reason to leave then isn’t it?

AP     All them foreigners get everything around here.  We don’t get nothing.  Anyway Doreen says I should go and live in Matlock.  ‘Chance ‘d be a fine thing’ I said.  She was lucky to get that place and I can’t stay there because her bloody son is always there.  When are you coming up here?

Now, One had been considering a visit, but I don’t think I could manage 24 hours without blood being split.

                                                                                                                                           ~

‘Bring me your laundry’ I said to Boy…

Contents of laundry bag – One pair suit trousers (dry clean only) complete with pockets full and the belt left on…

                                            Three ties

                                            ONE shirt

                                                                                   ~

AND…

Having put up a perfectly reasonable bird nesting box in my garden, the ungrateful little blighters are having an in-flight feck in MY tree and then biffing over the back to the coach house and taking up residence in the super de-luxe bird house there!!

AND…

There’s more shite in the garden.

GOING BACK TO BED WITH A VODKA SHANDY,  DON’T WAKE ME UNTIL JUNE

 

 

 

 

Saturday, 11 May 2013

In which One finally closes the door to those in need…

Have identified the problem with the otherwise PERFECT Lovely One…

A     One is a coward

B     One is afraid of being alone

Once One had accepted this as the inevitable, One had stern talk with One’s fellow inhabitant of the Underground Lair.   The upshot of it all is that he is now urgently seeking alternative accommodation.  The difference this time is that One doesn’t want to ‘sort things out’ as before.  One has accepted the inevitable, that One will have to move the Underground Lair on to another, and shear.

Any road up things in the garden are reasonably rosy, for all that.  Apart from the dog shite, which wouldn’t be there if it’s master pried himself from the chambre de coucher and walked the furry shit-machine first thing!

Biffed off to Dear Little S’s and got the Whitby stuff sent off (soon to be appearing in a fine art gallery in Church Street)  then shot off to Dartington to deliver me wares up there.  That really is the most splendid of emporia!

Have an exhibition in Devon (Yealmpton) just after the 10 Parishes festival and am invited to exhibit in a new Bistro on the Barbican.

Busy Busy Busy

AND the most exciting bit…

Dear little S is arranging a taster session with Moi and fellow geniuii through Groupon.  He called the chap to get things moving, and guess what?

ONE OF LOVELY ONE’S MASTERPIECES IS HIS SCREENSAVER

Anyway, enough of this showing off, truckle beds to lie in, books to read…

Tuesday, 7 May 2013

In which One ponders the benefits of Hot Chocolate over weak tea…

Spent a pleasant, but lonely day, outside fiddling around on the estate.  Although One is now a revolting wobbler of age and decay, One dug up and moved an entire tree on One’s own.  What d’yer think of them bananas then?

To be entirely honest, One dug a bit, came in and painted a bit and so on…

One must finish the current Barbican pic in order that my loyal and dedicated followers have something to spend their pocket money on.  After all, as soon as the stuff gets up to North Yorkshire I hope to be wowing the bods in that direction.

Being extremely lonely at the mo…   There’s a lot to be said for painting for a living, but done from One’s underground lair, the lack of human contact is quite devastating.

‘You have a flat-mate,’ I hear you chorus.

Indeed One does, but One has just elicited the information that One is ‘ A nasty, horrible person,’ and One has thus been sent to Coventry for five fecking days for objecting to the tumble dryer being used in fair weather.

What’s that One hears, ‘ I told you sooooo,’ drifting up the hill. 

Methinks One should stop attempting to help others and let them stew in their own fetid body fluid. (Preferably in another town.)

Any road up, One digresses, being extremely lonely at the mo…

One has been trawling the internet for sites for something to do, basket weaving, car maintenance, Paganism…

When One inadvertently, honest, accidentally (well it was free) signed up to a dating site.

Am under no circs going to contact anyone or even send an email 

But ‘tis an interesting fact to note that One has received many contacts and been made a ‘favourite’ by lots of dusky persons.

Have never had hot chocolate at bedtime before, but hey, there’s always a first time!

Sunday, 5 May 2013

In which One is stepping up to the mark…

An icy atmosphere has pervaded the Underground Lair of late and the tippy-toeing around has led One down the ‘Know Thyself’ path yet again.

Lying in a bath of asses milk this morning, super strength cuticle softener slathered on, mud pack in place and super-floo-us hair removing devices dotter hither and thither, One has reached the conclusion that One has, thus far, lived One’s entire life on other people’s terms.

Stchoopid, aren’t I?  Yes, well, we all know that, but I JUST DON’T SEEM TO BE ABLE TO STOP MYSELF.

From being a sour-faced child to the big wobbly dollop that One is now, One has always, without fail, put other’s requirements before One’s own.

BUT WHY?

One is not a sainted sort by any means.  In fact, quite the opposite, and One harbours vile and ghastly thoughts about One’s fellow man.  So it’s not that One is some kind of modern day, Western Mother Theresa. 

As a miserable little bookish child, One pandered to the every whim of the hysterical ‘Bet’ and was required to take her side against ‘Ron.’  This One duly did. 

One has always agreed to things that One doesn’t actually want to do and then spent masses of time whinging and hand wringing.

WHY?

One remembers when One first came to live in the Underground Lair…

Walking through the gate with my big fat ginger cat in my arms One was confronted by Shirleytosis who informed me;

‘You have an illegal gate in your garden.’

Now, call me old fashioned, but One has always preferred the greeting, ‘Hello, welcome to the block.’

Any road up, following other such annoying and downright rude approaches One decided to kill the busybody with kindness.  Fat lot of good that did me.

One has been warned by chums that One is deluded but One has consistently collected losers and misfits throughout One’s miserable existence.

BUT NO MORE

One has broken out the Sanatogen and is coming out fighting.

Incidentally, when the blighters removed my gate (an illegal act of vandalism) and ripped out me clematis, One did feck all about it. 

One will no longer be cowed.

BEWARE

Thursday, 2 May 2013

In which One has a stiff VAT and phones Aged P…

ap and lo

LO and Aged P in the dim and distant past…

Unlike today, both being in possession of a full set of marbles.  Well Aged P had all the marbles that she ever had, whether enough to play a proper game One shall never know.

Any road up…

LO     How did the scan go?

AP      I saw a different doctor and he said I still can’t put any weight on me leg!  He didn’t know anything about the scan. I told ‘im I ‘eard the other one on the phone saying I should be ‘avin’ some special treatment.

LO     How are you getting about then?

AP     I’ve got a three wheeled trolley and some crutches.

LO     What?  You’re still going up and down stairs with crutches?

AP     Well I don’t use ‘em in Tesco, I hang onto the side of the trolley.

LO     Why don’t you use one of the special trollies with a seat?

AP     I’m not using one of them!! Anyway it would be parked outside the lav half the time waiting for Eileen to have a piss.

Mmmmmm abandon this topic methinks

LO     Boy started his new job and got sent home halfway through the first day because his computer hadn’t been delivered.

AP     Delphine gave me some plants for the garden and the gardener is putting them in next time he cuts the grass, anyway Jackie is selling shoes on the computer.

LO     Oh, has she got a web site address?

AP     I TOLD YOU – SHE IS SELLING THEM ON THE COM-PU-TER!

LO     Are they ok?

AP     Yes I was going to get you a pair they’re only £5. I did five shits before ten o’clock this morning y’know and I can’t sit outside in the sun because people at the bus stop look at me……..

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr