Pizza and garlic bread in the oven.

Dave Matthews Band on the stereo.

Littlun asleep upstairs.

Morelearning being morelearning. (Which is a very good thing indeed.)

2007 sneaking up with all its little surprises in store.

Everything's gonna be ok.

Just been drafting a review of my rollercoaster year for juzzzy's 365 days blog. Exhausting just writing it!! Can't quite believe everything that's happened this year and how I've ended up here. But here we are. I wish things were better resolved with morelearning's older kids, but apart from that, everything is pretty damn cool.

It's ten past 11, and I'm still in bed.

I am wearing a tasteless t shirt, white cotton pants and fluffy bedsocks.

I slept on damp hair last night, meaning that this morning it is Big and Wild on one side and as flat as a cucumber (as Clare my student housemate used to say) on the other side.

Did anyone watch that Swap Shop thing last night?

My brother had a letter read out on Swap Shop once.

I felt like a minor celebrity at the bus stop the next morning.

And now?

We have a new toaster, and I'm gonna use it.

x

from the hospital. Not out of woods yet but for the time being:

So then morelearning and I went into town and had a pot of tea and a sausage cob in Newmans, which is my favourite old-school caff (no pretentious nonsense), and then went into town and he bought a new coat and I bought some new boots (no panties tho! ), and then we had a drink in the Orange Tree, and then lunch in the Noodle Bar where one of the items on the menu was called Fook Kin Soup which is still making me chuckle now.

Home now. under a blanket on the sofa. very nice too.

Nanny B, 'cos it's her birthday today.

(She's my dead grandma.)

Nanny B was a ferocious, down to earth, scary, strict, beautiful, practical, tactless, mischievous lady.

She died of a brain haemorrhage in 1989.

A combination of being short on both tact and hearing gave Nanny B the unwitting ability to say stuff that had us all in stitches. So in her honour - here are some of my favourite Nanny B howlers:

Sixpence, age 16 [playing Scrabble]: Can I have 'Zit' or is that slang?
Nanny B: How is your skin these days, dear?

Nanny B [on meeting my Danish sister in law for the first time]: In Denmark, do you sometimes have a joint on Sundays?

Nanny B [scrutinising my first serious boyfriend, who had very long hair]: Don't worry, dear - he'll want to have it off soon.

So (raising my glass of Coke, because she didn't like young ladies drinking out of cans) here's to Nanny B...

Sorry it's been aaaaages..... got caught up in Christmas madness. Morelearning has bravely endured the past few days in order to secure his Surviving The New In Laws brownie badge which is now pinned proudly upon his dressing gown. Mummy Sixpence and Daddy Sixpence departed at approximately 1400 hours today, leaving me at liberty to do things like shagging on the sofa, doing a bit of bogblogging [sorry ] and lazing around all afternoon in my dressing gown. Of course it was pure delight to have them here but the other activities listed do also hold some considerable appeal.

I have a hospital appointment tomorrow and the news could be either Very Very Good or Very Very Bad which has also been a reason for me not blogging (too busy worrying) and hence I am in a state of some anxiety which is going to continue until the middle of tomorrow when it might get better. or worse. Ho hum.

Just been playing a form of slobby, unofficial, dressing-gown-wearing Pictionary with morelearning (taking it in turns to draw) and I had to draw 'Aston Martin'. How unfair is that? I'm a girl and everything. Morelearning preceded every drawing with "you'll never get this" which I take as reassuring evidence of his faith in my intelligence... although he claims it's due to a lack of confidence in his own drawing skills. You decide!

...for a writer.

border="0" alt="You are .jpg You are very colorful. Sometimes you forget things, or distort the truth. You like working with pictures more than words."/>
Which File Extension are You?

You know that bit towards the end of the film where Julia Roberts thinks she is safely ensconced in her new home and new life, and then she opens the door of the kitchen cupboard to find that all her tins have been lined up?

Had a moment a bit like that this morning.

The cause?

'Computer Shopper' magazine by the toilet.

Just kidding, darling!

morelearning's already given a run down of his works Christmas do last night..... but he had had a bottle of red wine all to himself.

I was driving (it was the only way for ml to get from teaching night school to the Christmas do in time) so couldn't drink, so spent whole evening feeling incredibly shy and convinced that all ml's colleagues were wondering why on earth ml (who is quirky and highly entertaining) would have left his lovely family for a dullard like me.

I'm going to invent a more exciting job for myself I think, like penguin trainer or trapeze artist or someone who puts the chocolate sprinkles on truffles.

*sigh*

Anyway. It was nice of them to let a homewrecker like me come along and although I felt shy and rubbish I did have a nice time and got to enjoy ml looking drop dead gorgeous in his black shirt although there's really no excuse for molesting someone in an NCP car park and having overtired himself with friskiness I couldn't get the snoring pervert off the feckin sofa to come to bed.

Remind me to change mobile phone providers next time I sign up to an 18 month contract. They drive me feckin mentallist. Finally snapped today and screamed down the phone,

"Your company's customer service is the worst I have EVER encountered!!!!!!!!!!!"

It bloody is, too.

Looks like me brand new fone don't work. But if I send it back they won't send me a new one, because that's a "cancellation of upgrade". I can report it as a fault, but that means I have to send if off to be diagnosed and pay if it isn't. And I can only report it as a fault if I register my new SIM card, which deactivates my old SIM card, and then if I send it back I have to send the new SIM card back as well, so I won't have a phone. All because the BRAND NEW PHONE they sent me DOESN'T FUCKING WORK.

Look, I'm trying to stay calm for the good of my health, ok??? But I am FUCKINGBASTARDBOLLOCKSARSE ANGRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(surprise!)

And you know what?

I like this feeling.

Cool!

what with littlun falling out of bed

(thump. wail)

and waking up 5 or 6 times

("daddy!")

and morelearning

(who talks in his sleep anyway)

not just talking but

singing

(loudly).

And though he has begged me not to, I'm afraid that out of loyalty to blogworld I simply have to share with you my favourite extract from his sleeptalking last night.

"Now listen - we've got 8 seconds to use a pencil case to mend a hole in a cow, so hurry up and clean the wound!"

Freud would have had a field day.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That's all I have to say.

while taping up a parcel just now

i sellotaped my hair to the package

i would ask if anyone else has had a similar experience

but i suspect that it's just me

*sigh*

can't help it if i've got hair the colour of brownpaper, though, can I?

now, where did i put my specs???

The public had voted, and the winners of the prestigious Market Randomtown Open Art Show 2006 had been announced. 795 votes were received. The Peer Award winner got a solo exhibition with a local gallery, for a mercifully highly decent landscape. The People's Choice Award (first prizewinner) received a charming watercolour set donated by a local stationers for her delightful cat picture. The second prizewinner was thrilled to be awarded an art book donated by a local bookshop for her delicate 'Still Life'.

Well at least that's what they could have won, if I'd remembered to take the prizes.

Add to the mix the venue - a local evangelical hall ("This building is a provision from God. No smoking or alchoholic drink." And there was me thinking He liked a glass of wine on occasion.) - a maverick local councillor (Vice Chair of Market Randomtown District Council, whose day job is a carpet fitter and whose brother in law, as it turned out, lives next door to the chap who runs the local gallery [also present] and once [oh how we laughed as the anecdote was relayed!] scrawled "Fucking twat" across his door - allegedly. And what were those bits of white fluff on the Councillor's chin? Had he been masquerading as Santa moments before? And it's always encouraging when your guest speaker turns up and says "I lost all the information you sent me. Can you tell me what this is all about?") - my resident loose cannon artist (ate all the crisps) - out of date cakes purchased from J. Sainsbury that very day (I feel a complaint coming on) - me not having prepared my speech beforehand and having to do it totally off the cuff, with my line manager present - and morelearning (who set all the chairs out, and helped clear up afterwards, bless him) smirking at me from the corner (although he wasn't so smirky when he got cornered by the Vice Chair for half an hour) - and you can see why an entertaining evening was had by all.

If you organise a prize giving event

don't forget to take the prizes.

Our new TIVO works!

I have just watched yesterday's Countdown whilst enjoying a tuna mayo jacket spud and a bar of dark chocolate.

Missing being bothered by Freda

but

am nevertheless a very happy bunny

Went out for Christmas meal with some arty colleagues from across the County last night. 'Twas the first time in about 6 years that I've not organised it. The woman who volunteered to lift the baton from my weary festive shoulders is a vegan, so she suggested we have our Crimble meal in a vegetarian Indian restaurant.

I did reply saying that, call me a traditionalist, but I do like a bit of dead poultry on my plate at Christmas time; but she 'replied to all' saying "everybody's responses were very non committal so I've booked it".

Not that non committal, surely??

Anyway. Hence, last night I was being forced to eat a set menu that included beetroot curry.

Now, I'm not a fan of beetroot. I find it very suspect (that colour can't be a true product of Nature, can it??) I don't like the taste and I prefer my early morning wee the next day to be the colour of wee and not purple.

But the final straw was when they served up the dessert, which proved to be ice cream with......

cold shredded beetroot.

Oh, I wish I was joking.

I don't know. I just wondered.

morelearning got excited
by my stripey overknee socks

the dirty northern bastard

Am wondering whether morelearning and I might be the only couple in the history of couples to have Ian Dury's 'Plaistow Patricia' as "our song". D

(If you're not familiar, and you don't mind a bit of swearing, then google it.)

The very first line was one of the reasons we fell in love.... but that's a very long story!!! D

It does make a pretty unique 'our tune' though.

Oh go on then I can't resist. I'll give you a little snapshotette of the story.

I sent it (the first line) to morelearning, who was thousands of miles away at the time... there was a reason for this, it was kind of in response to him wanting to get to know more about me... anyway he responded saying "Do you know how fucking lovely that is?"

Ah the early days of romance... soft music, sweet nothings...D

In other news:

Bumped into one of the former Mutual Friends in town. Let's call him Fish. That's not his name. But we will anyway.

Fish is not just any one of the Mutual Friends. Fish is one of my favourite people in the world. I don't know if he knows this. He is a top bloke among top blokes. Funny, caring and delightful. I have always had a very soft spot for him.

When I met Fish he was sharing a bachelor pad with Mr Expence, which Mr Expence ultimately abandoned in order to move in with me. Fish was always very kind to me, and he should have been the best man at our wedding really but instead we asked S who we knew would be hugely entertaining as a best man and indeed he was but in retrospect I wish it had been Fish who would have been equally entertaining and probably a bit nicer to me.

Anyway as blogfriends will know I miss all the Mutual Friends a great deal but Fish probably more than anyone, apart from the little girl (daughter of S).

So I bumped into Fish today and after hugging the life out of the poor sod I then cried all over him. I could tell he was a bit bewildered (especially as I was pushing a buggy with a 2 year old in it at the time, which is not a context he is used to seeing me in) but he took it on the unshaven chin, bless him, and reassured me that I wasn't on any dartboards [even if none of them are ever going to speak to me again]. [He didn't verbalise that last bit, that's just in my head].

Anyway seeing him has made me a bit weepy... but nowt new there!!!!

And in other other news... I've just et a white chocolate cookie and drank a Baileys Coffee (take one cup of coffee. Add Baileys instead of milk. Or in this case, Sainsbury's Baileys substitute).

Yummy, yummy, on my tummy, as littlun says.

On his tummy is not far wrong, usually. His mum must think I stand him at the front door and hose him down with mud and tomato ketchup before I send him home every time. Still, at least he goes home looking like he's had fun.

And I'm stopping there. Night night.

Morelearning and I both slept through the alarm. Probably because I kept him up until an unreasonable hour being needy and snivelling.

Tsk!! Actually been feeling quite upbeat this week, but seem to have slipped back into miserable fecker mode.

Anyway after seeing ml throw on yesterday's clothes and exit the building in record time, I hauled my arse to the shower and shaved my legs in an attempt to make myself feel like a desirable woman instead of a miserable old slag that ml is probably trying to work out how to get committed to one of those Magdalene nun places that were in the film last night.

Then scooted off to acupuncture, and arrived 10 minutes late which was very odd considering I left the house on time (was I kidnapped by aliens? probably not. perhaps I was just driving craply and slowly instead of craply and too fast like I normally do).

Max the acupuncturist said I was "apprehensive and down" and stuck excessive numbers of needles into my feet, arms, left ear and head. No sooner had he closed the sliding door and left me to "relax" than I was sobbing away. God knows why, when I'm utterly in love with the most amazing man I've ever met. Just processing stuff I think.

Anyway an hour later I exit the bizarre world of Rutland and return to the village I used to reside in with Mr Expence. I have to pick up a prescription - I'm still registered with the doctors there because my experience of city doctors is that they can squeeze you in in 3 weeks' time if you're not already dead - so if it's a choice between that and lying to the village doctors about my current place of residence I will, needless to say, choose the latter.

Sat in the car afterwards thinking shall I (a) pop up the hill and see the nice former neighbours? (b) pop up the hill and see my cats? (c) both? (d) neither?

Popped up the hill, neighbours were out so (b) it was. Squeezed through the gap in the fence (can one be arrested for trespassing with the sole objective of stroking a cat?) and coaxed cats out of cat flap. They look really well. Had a cuddle off both of them but Mumcat wouldn't purr. She snuggled up with me but was obviously a bit confused by the whole thing.

Sobbed a bit on way home, so consoled myself on arrival with cup of decaff and bar of dark chocolate. Then steeled myself to ring Orange. All week - all week - I have been trying to upgrade my contract and phone. Can they sue me for saying that theirs is by far the worst customer service I have ever encountered? I have begun to anticipate this now, so that I can absolutely guarantee that within about 5 seconds of them finally answering the phone (usually after about 20 minutes of "we are currently experiencing a high volume of calls so FECK OFF") I will be very wound up indeed.

I suspect they now have a note on my file saying "STROPPY ARSE", because when I finally got through today, after bringing up my details the chap says nervously:

"Ah. Mrs Sixpence. What sort of day are you having?"

Anyway I FINALLY managed to get it all sorted and now I am sat here playing Starsailor and pondering getting myself some lunch and whether I can be bovvered to go Christmas shopping this afternoon, which means doing freelance work tomorrow instead.

So, what sort of day am I having, Mr Orange? Well so far a sort of snivelly, liberally punctured, catcuddly, chocolatey sort of day.

And how about you, blogfriends?