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Friday, 31 January 2014

In which Mummy is making brownies whether Boy likes it or not…

Oh my giddy aunt!  There’s One basking in a compliment…

‘I think you are beautiful and you have lovely skin,’ opined the miniature furniture making personette (allbeit following a second bucket of Pinot)…

When she followed it up with…

‘I hope I’m like you when I’m old.’

And there One was, deflated and baggy like a gone down zeppelin.

Ah well, at least One is cutting a dash on the old dating website.

NO, don’t panic, am of completely sound mind at the mo and shan’t be biffing off to anywhere with anyone, unless they are in possession of a sizeable fortune and therefore in need of a wife.

By the by One is doing two radio shows on 10 Radio next week.  Manic Monday from 7.00am until 9.00am with the delicious Eddster and then again with the Eddington on Friday from 9.00am until 12.00 pm.  Have a listen online at 10 Radio. org and phone in or email us with your good wishes or criticisms.  We can take it – good or bad.

Any road up, off to make a chilli and some chocolate brownies for Boy’s supper.

Let’s hope One doesn’t get the old ‘Please don’t make any more brownies mummy, they’re horrid.’ of his youth!

Thursday, 30 January 2014

In which One made a mercy dash to Uffculme…


The old gunpowder works on Dartmoor…

An  interested observer has opined that this is the first contemporary art she has ever seen of Dartmoor.

Goodo – lots more to come then!

Have just returned from a mercy dash to take Uncle Bert’s knee to have an injection.

It is freezing to the point of a double-kekker day and yet UB is ackled up in nothing more than a T-shirt (and strides luckily)

One enquired as to whether under-trollies had been deployed since the nurse is a delicate young thing and if confronted with those space-hopper gonads, would surely faint clean away!

Fortunately suitable undercarriage support was nestling ‘neath the ghastly ‘sports’ keks.  I ask you – making sports-wear in that size!  Breaking into more than a moderate trundle would render the old cove unconscious.

Any road up, have another ‘want to meet’ on POF. This time a cheerful looking article who is either a pet lover or suitably unimpressed with One’s profile picture (with Tigerboy) since his opener was ‘what a lovely cat.’  So, even if he doesn’t like me he’ll  be chuffed to see my pussy.

Wednesday, 29 January 2014

In which One is a C list celeb about these parts…

‘Where is all the cleaning stuff?  I want to do the housework.’


Fan dabby dozy – or what!!

Not only that, but prints have been ordered from the new Dartmoor masterpiece already! 

Oh my things are starting to look up.

In fact, so much so that on the advice of Vile ex Husband, One has ventured onto the POF website and already have received many offers, despite putting up the gnarled of photograph of One with the darling deceased Tigerboy.

They can’t all feel soz for One, can they?

Any road up, struck up a conv with a splendid looking creature from Deepest and might, just might give it a whirl…

Have made first faux pas though and sent a message to the wrong cove, thinking he was a muscly mining type from the valleys and upon closer inspection have indicated an interest in a wrinkly old codger with white plastic framed sunglasses and baggington strides.

Oh well, onward and upward.

Oh, and the article delivering my painting paper actually recognised One and is an admirer of One’s doings.


Before you ask it wasn’t the Wivey Postie it was a van driving cove from the outside world.


Tuesday, 28 January 2014

In which One is thinking of adoption…

‘I have bought you a bottle of wine.  Is this ok?’, said the little dear brandishing a bottle of Pinot Grigio.


I shall adopt this child forthwith.



Uncle Bert has pointed out that she must think I am a sluttish drunk, but no matter, One is in seventh hev thusfar.


she is an avid viewer of Come Dine with Me, Housewives of Orange County and now – the soaps.

Well, she has to watch the soaps, since attempting to wrestle the remote from One when Corrers is on would result in serious injury.

A new dawn has come upon Lovely One already, what with having to get dressed, stop drinking directly from bottles and then tossing them over One’s shoulder…

One has actually filed One’s tax return on time, have hoovered the sitting room rug and have cleaned the bathroom before fungus starts growing up the wall.

How long this state of grace will continue is anybody’s, but make burritos while the sun shines – eh!!

Monday, 27 January 2014

In which One has the TV remote wrestled from One’s grasp…

First night over and passed without incident…

However, One did have to repair to the sanctity of One’s own room following the handing over of the TV remote to MdmS.  Being a young personage, she put One in grave danger of being exposed to young person’s TV… Russell somebody or other’s good news followed by Family Guy, during which a talking dog appeared to run the household with the help of a scary baby.

‘Twas just like being holed up with Boy again.

Am v disappointed to report that she doesn’t appear to be a drug runner or an axe murderer on the run from the law, but merely a dainty young adventurer exploring the globe.

Oh well, she has had the desired effect on One already and One was arisen from the snuggliness of the truckle bed at a Godly hour and in the kitchen doing a ‘load.’

Speaking of which, One is going to let the poor little waif settle in before introducing Lovely Gordon into the mix, since One imagines that an entire evening conversation about white goods, and in particular washin’ mashins is prob not of interest to the little dear.

LG is champing at the bit to enquire of the ‘spin speed’, washing temperature and cleansing qualities of the laundry products available in Puerto Rico, but ‘twill have to wait, the poor girl will run screaming for the hills if One lets that happen before she’s fully acclimatised her little self to the vagaries of the Wiveliscombe-ite.

Sunday, 26 January 2014

In which One may be turning a corner…

It has been a v interesting couple of weekettes.  Spons have changed hands in car parks throughout the county and pieces of art are winging their way abroad…

Perhaps a new dawn is on the horizon?

How exciting that would be, following the gloom and despondency of the tail end of 2013 and the beginning of 2014.

The Puerto Rican furniture designer’s arrival is imminent too.  As of this after, One shan’t be able to live the life of a batty old recluse: blowing One’s nose on a sock, drinking gin out of a cracked cup, staying dans le duvet until all hours etc… Well, not without blowing One’s cover and risking the shame of being A Vagrant with an audience.

I AM NOT THE VAGRANT   - remember that?

Any road up, Aged P called last evening to inform One that K had arrived with A and she’d had the most Wonderful afternoon of her life.

Took One a while to place K, and eventually remembered she is The Brother’s first wife…

She of the ‘It’ll be the happiest day of my life when that marriage breaks up!,’ so said Aged P upon the occasion of their nuptials.

‘Twould appear, however, that K is now flavour of the month. Obv didn’t occur to Aged P that her visit was to enable the facts about the doings of the Brother to be divulged.

Still, if it makes Aged P happy to change sides, let it be. 


Tuesday, 21 January 2014

In which One is all undulating acreage…

Am v busy getting the kingdom of Spare OOm into order ready for the young lady from Puerto Rica. 

The things One has to resort to in order to simply live these days are dire in the extreme.

Just think, One will have to get dressed occasionally instead of being ‘Woman in a Dressing Gown’ – gosh that ages One!

Any road up, no more sashaying around in me soiled onesie and drinking out of wine bottles at 11.00 am – well not unless she turns out to be a shameless hussie like One.

Watched some of that ‘My Baggy Body’ last night/


Why one earth would anyone parade their acreage on TV for the edification of the great unwashed.  No one has any sympathy for the floppy great dollops, everyone just wants to point at them and titter.

Just like that ‘Embarrassing Illnesses’ malarkey.  If you’re too embarrassed to go to yer own GP why would you want the entire nation gawping up yer festering twinkle!

I’ll go to the foot of our stairs!

Anyway, seeing the ghastly spectacle of all that flolloping flesh, One might just ditch the 5/2 since One’s current mass is in the manner of undulating hillocks and dales full of downy stuffing and if One messed with perfection One might end up wearing a crinkly pink leather shell suit.

Monday, 20 January 2014

In which One is feeling glum…

Specialist subject – Boat Missing

Fancy!  The JTWSEG has not shuffled off this mortal coil.  He is alive and cycling off in his lycra shorts in the gen direc of a more accommodating spinster of this parish than your very own Lovely One.

One has ascertained this nugget of information from the fact that he has ‘accepted’ my (long ago forgotten about) friend request on Facebook.

Death is the only acceptable excuse for ceasing to pursue Lovely One as you all know and One feels suitably nudged in the ribs by the deliberate ‘still being alive-ness’ of the churlish cove.

Still, what does One expect?  January is bleak enough without being spurned by all and sundry which is what it feels like now.

‘Tis One’s own doing, however, since One is such a complete miserable woebegone dollop that One has kept well away from other mortals lest One envelop them within One’s looming cloud noir.

One was watching that silly Celebrity BB, purely by accident One hastens to add, and listening to that peculiar polished piece of sinew LJ, who has spent most of her natch avoiding situations including a partner until she is perfect.  One has come to the inevitable conc that One has done that throughout One’s youth and now that One is droopy and hirsute about the jowels, One is highly unlikely to ever have any success in that particular region.

Oh well, even if the boat did come in One expects to be at the airport.

Thursday, 16 January 2014

In which One is ready to take on the world…

One has been told in no uncertain terms that One is capable of changing things and getting what One wants.

For example: losing some excess flabbage, moving house, finally securing a mate etc

Would that it were true! 

One has remained a paragon of virtue in the scoffage stakes however and limited Oneself to small healthy meals and a very limited amount of alcohol.

All good!  Until, One succumbed to the Chardonnay calling from the Frigidaire.  Several buckets later One was trawling the cupboards searching for scoffage and anything to perpetuate the motion of hand to gob stuffage.

The remains of a packet of pretzels

six dairy lea triangles (sucked out of the foil)

half a pack of ryvita with some dried up peanut butter

a pack of fruit jellies (except the green ones of which there was a plethora)

a slice of Christmas cake

the knobby ends of a french stick (because that was all that remained)

A slug of Gaviscon

And so to bed!

Today, however, One is a restrained and measured being and the minute One has touched up me roots One is going to take on the world

Thursday, 9 January 2014

In which One peeks out from behind the shreddies…

Having spent Sunday afternoon with Boy et Elderly Amour, One felt ready to break the No No Pinot Pledge One took upon the dawn of 2014.

However, in the manner of all good Boy Scouts, One was prepared with a ‘dry’ Underground Lair.

Busily gnawing on One’s toenails, One was rudely interrupted…..

‘Hello caller, I’ve a generous portion of thigh with your name on it up the passage.’

Lovely Gordon, of course.

‘Oooh One is tempted.  What time would you like One to attend?,’ One countered.

‘I’ve just got to mosey up the Co-op for a cheeky little white and then we’re good to go, so, say around, 15 minutes?’ came the retort.

Being fully acquainted with ‘Lovely Gordon time’, a measure of passage not in tune with the rest of planet earth, One quietly resolved to put in a load, catch up with the month’s ironing and finish the latter half of War and Peace before venturing up the alley.

Upon One’s arrival, One was surprised indeed to find the Ponderous Professor in residence complete with verre du vin and with a fully loaded clothes horse for One to peek out from behind.

Supper isn’t supper at ‘up the passage’ unless One is cheek to cheek with a freshly laundered pair of L.G.’s shreddies.

A further expedition had obv been undertaken by L.G. to TK Max as a dear little lidded saucepan, a boxed set of winkle probers and an Antimacassar hand fashioned from ear hair clippings, were proudly on display in the centre of the kitchen on top of the super-floo-us third fridge.

Saturday, 4 January 2014

In which One puts One’s hoof down…

One fears a re-invention of One on the horizon…

Does One have the energy?

Does One have the drive?

Can One give a feck?

Well, the future does look a tad on the bleak side, sales wise.  Not, One hastens to add, due to the lack of interest in One’s doings, rather the general disinterest in all things Arty.

So – what next?…

Will it be the sex chat line?…

caller     ‘hello tell me what you are doing right now?’

One        ‘Eating a leftover bit of Christmas cake, fried, whilst harvesting my post-menopausal beard and watching re-runs of Come Dine with Me.’

caller      ‘What are you wearing?’

One        ‘Me Andy Pandington Onesie, yesterdays pants and me moisturising socks.  How about you?’


Perhaps not…

It may not come to that since One still has enquiries re: buying stuff.

Lately a personage related to the Master of the Hunt has been in touch via email to tell One that the horseman in One’s Boxing Day Hunt pic is his father – The Master Himself…

One is hereby required to telephone said squire and see what he proposes to purchase.

These people don’t seen to have got the hang of this ‘shopping’ lark.

One doesn’t expect Waitrose to phone One and offer wares before One orders.

Pray no, Master, you want to buy, you contact Lovely One!