Return of the Train................

Haven't blogged for flippin ages due to wasting my Summer watching Big Brother and being generally busy at work and at home. I've been travelling around a fair bit recently and thought I should share my recent transport calamity.

The day started badly when I cracked my forehead on the door to the airing cupboard and that left a hideous bump and a flap of skin that was a bit too big to rip off without adding to the unsightly wound.

Showered and shaved and whilst having some toast and coffee I had a strange feeling of being alone. Where was the dog? She's always sniffing around for any crumb-drops when I'm having toast. Went round the house and looked in her 4 beds - yes you read right! I have to search for her cos she's as deaf as a post now so no point calling for her. OK she's not indoors. Went outside and no sign of her on the patio! Now I'm getting worried. She's arthritic so she couldn't have got up the big steps to the main garden.........could she?

Having searched indoors again I decided to chance looking round the upper garden. Yes you've guessed. There she is wandering around and having a rare old time sniffing about.

I sneaked up on her and grabbed her gently from behind. She got a bit of a fright. However I got an even bigger fright when the smell hit me! She was covered in fox shit and now so was I!!!! Grrrrrrrrr..........

Back to the bathroom for both of us. Dog washed and me re-washed and I'm ready for the off.

Things were going well now. I caught an early train from Croydon to Watford Junction. Felt chuffed cos that meant I could avoid Central London. At Watford Junction there was an earlier train I could catch to Crewe and change there for Liverpool. That looked sound and I should get a connection and arrive earlier.

10 minutes out of the station the Inspector comes down. He was one of those people that you couldn't age. He could have been anywhere from early twenties to mid forties and he had what looked like 2 blobs of mayonaise on his shirt. I tell him I know I have to change at Crewe. He agreed but added that my ticket wasn't valid on this train!

I was really confused because I always buy Standard Savers and you can usually use them on any train. However not trains from Euston between 4-6pm on weekdays. A fact I wasn't aware of. He could clearly see that I wasn't trying it on but insisted that I buy another ticket as he had announced at Euston that these tickets weren't valid. The fact that I couldn't have heard the announcement as I got on at Watford made no difference and he took a very jobsworth and condescending stance. What is it with me and ticket inspectors? So I forked out another £70 whilst mumbling under my breath and making a note of his name for future Mr Angry email to Virgin.

I was livid and stomped down the aisle to the loo for a wee. In my stroppy haste I caught my new Timberland three quarter trousers on an arm rest and ripped the pocket on the leg almost completely off. This caused 2 foreign kids and their fat sweating Mother to laugh hysterically. I would have laughed myself but the inspector was still in the carriage and I couldn't drop my stern scowl.

When I got back to my seat with my pocket flapping around, a blonde chavette had appeared from nowhere and was sat on the table diagonally opposite. She was having a fight with her boyfriend on her mobile phone. It was all 'at the end of the day' 'no listen, right' very loud and lots of handwaving. She kept losing signal and screaming 'call me back, call me back' and he did so we had to hear her bloody stupid ringtone over and over again. This went on all the way to Crewe. Even my MP3 player couldn't drown her out.

At least she was gone and I went to check the time of the next train to Liverpool. 40 minutes and it's the train I should have got on back at Watford Junction so after all that I won't arrive any earlier.

Argument with a jobsworth in a stained red shirt, £70 lighter, trousers destroyed and a thumping headache. Just to add to my joy I pulled a muscle in my leg lifting my case up the stairs when I was changing platfrom at Crewe and now I'm walking like I have a swollen testicle.

Return of the train........my arse!

Scream 4

It's funny how things spiral out of proportion. Well it's not that funny. In fact why did I say that? It's like when my Mum used to always say 'Best foot forward' when something went wrong or there was bad news. She even said it when they brought me home from hospital after my knee operations.

Well I digress, as usual. On Wednesday I managed to convince myself that there was a prowler in the garden and the back door was open. I'd just finished trying on everything in my wardrobe for a night on the town and my room looked like someone had bombed Abercrombie & Fitch. I heard a noise in the garden that sounded like someone had jumped over the fence onto the patio.

I froze by the bedroom door and for some strange reason decided the best course of action was to turn the light off and hide in the dark! I stood in my bedroom in pitch black for about half an hour trying to listen for movement in the house and sneaking looks through the blinds. The dog was in the hall but she's deaf and blind and probably wouldn't notice a gang of masked murderers with meat cleavers running through the house.....unless of course they had dog treats with them.

I crept around my room looking for a weapon. Finally got up the courage to venture out with a wooden coat hanger. Bet that would have scared the shit out of a burglar.

Moved down the hall into the kitchen like some teenage frat girl in Halloween 27 and reached the back door. Slammed it shut! Locked it! Phew! I wasn't the next to get bumped off........or was I!!!!

No sooner had I locked the door when I realised 'HE MIGHT BE IN THE HOUSE!!!!!!!' and broke out in a cold sweat and stubbed my toe on the Brabantia.

Just then I heard the noise again! Looked out the window and saw it was the shed door being caught by the wind.

What a Big Jessie!!!!! Mum used to say that too when I had her remove spiders from my room :-)

Happy Chocolate Weekend

4 days of sunshine, alcohol and chocolate. Sound good? Well leaving work on Thursday I was cock-a-hoop at the prospect of 4 days of hedonistic bliss. Well laying around getting pissed watching DVDs and devouring chocolate eggs would be a more accurate description of the plan.

Thursday night I was due to go out for a couple of beers with mates but after dinner I was quite happy to snuggle up on the Linda Barker and settle down for a musical cheese-fest with Britney, Cher and Dead or Alive. Pete Burns had just started wiggling his arse around in a pair of satin tassle pants when - BANG! The fuses blew in the house. Shit! I thought we'd had another power cut. Well for about 5 seconds because the lights were still on so that couldn't be?

I stood up and looked down the hall and it was then that I saw the smoke coming from the kitchen and the pungent smell reached me. I rushed passed the dog who was fast asleep in her bed number 3 in the hall and could see the smoke was getting thicker as I reached the kitchen. My heart was racing now and as I turned into the kitchen I saw thick smoke billowing from the dishwasher and crackling noises coming from inside.

After opening the back door I turned the dishwasher off. Why I don't know cos the fuses had gone but you don't think clearly in these situations. I then debated closing the back door as I wasn't sure if the fresh air would fan the fire. Seemed like ages before I came to my senses but it was probably seconds. Rushed back to the lounge to call the fire brigade.

Hi-tech digital phone was dead as the power was off. Old fashioned simple phones have a lot going for them! Found mobile and called 999. Think it's the first time in my life I've done that!

Here's how the convo went

Her - emergency which service?
Me - FIREBRIGADE
Her - What's the address
Me - XX XXXXXXXXXX ROAD!
Her - What road are you near?
Me - Ehhhhhhhh! Oh I dunno? Sainsbury's ....
Her - are you near xxxxxxxxxx Hill?
Me - Oh yeh!
Her - what's happened?
Me - (in high-pitched squeally voice) My dishwasher's caught fire!
Her - are you outside?
Me - No! I'm in the kitchen!
Her - Can you please go outside immediately!
Me - OK
Her - They're on they're way. Please wait outside until they arrive.
Me - OK thanks.

Ran down hall and scooped up dog who was still fast asleep. Thought dogs were supposed to have a 6th sense or at least a good sense of smell!

Was only outside for about 2 minutes when the sirens and flashing blue lights came charging round the corner and out jumped the boys in their sexy uniforms. I told them where the kitchen was and they disappeared into the smoke. The dog kept trying to go in too. She wanted to get back to her bed I think.

I was shaking like a leaf and trying not to make it obvious to the boys. Curiously not one of the lads was in the least bit sexy? Next thing the neighbours start popping out and asking what's happened and if I'm OK. I can still hear the cries of 'Your DISHWASHER????' and see the eyes rolling. Why did it have to be such a gay sounding fire.

They all trooped out and said all's OK. Just a bit smelly. They were off almost as quickly as they had arrived. I went back in. Slung the dog back in her bed and she just turned to the wall and fell asleep. Ungrateful bitch. Doesn't she know I rescued her from a smoke-filled death trap LOL.

Here's the remains of the dishwasher

What did I learn from this experience

1. Never leave appliances on when you leave the house. Just think what might have been if I had gone out!

2. Dogs are stupid

3. Not all firemen are sexy!

Friday was pretty uneventful thank goodness.

Saturday was spent clearing out crap from the garden and taking it to the dump along with the remains of dishwasher. Looked like all of Croydon had decided to do the same thing as there was a queue about a mile long to get in. We were sat there, trapped for about 45 minutes. The smell of the burnt out dishwasher wiring mingling with damp garden refuse and fox's piss was overpowering and making our eyes water.

Eventually the queue got moving and we heard that the security guards had closed the place due to some arsey type in a white van jumping the queue and threatening them. They had a hissy fit and decided the best plan was to shut the place down. Good plan boys!

Result of all this garden activity followed by sitting awkwardly in the van on a bag of leftover tile bits is that my back is killing me again so bath and bed for me!

Still not moving well today and had some terrible news from someone very special to me xxxxx

What a shit weekend! The dog agrees. She's just left one for me by the back door...............

5 Minute Miracle Face Tonic........my arse!

Having survived weeks of vet trips/bills and bending over the bath rubbing anti-bacterial/fungal shampoo on my dog's arse I was looking forward to a special evening on Saturday. A group of mates, who I hadn't seen for ages, were coming round for a bit of a reunion party at my abode. It was housemate's birthday the other day so it was a timely gathering.

Now to say I've been a tad stressed lately is like saying Camilla Parker-Bowles is an old trout who get's Charle's todger twitching. It's a fact that is best kept behind closed doors and not discussed in public. So before meeting my old mates I thought I would have a relaxing home-spa afternoon to de-stress and get my sparkle back.

Bath was run and candles lit. Dug out Laura Pausini CD and had it gently playing on the toilet seat. Well on the CD player sat on the toilet seat.

I'd been shopping in the morning and decided to treat myself to a Face Tonic to de-stress the visage. 5 minute miracle it said. Vibrant Fresh Skin - FAST! Explosively invigorates you for the night or day ahead. Perfect I thought.

Gently eased myself into the Seaweed & Watermint bath. Tore open the face tonic mask and smoothed it across my face as I lay back in the hot bubbles being soothed by the Italian diva.

About a minute later I felt this tingling sensation across my cheeks and forehead. I thought that must be the mask cleansing my pores. The tingling soon became a burning sensation and it was at that point I started to worry. The lovely 'orange' fragrance of the mask suddenly put me in mind of Mr Muscle Limescale Remover. For an instant I felt like I couldn't breath as the pungent odour caught the back of my throat. I sat up with start and knocked the bath tidy on to the floor. Pulled the mask off my searing flesh and grabbed a facecloth. Tried to rinse the stuff off but could still feel the 'tonic' burning into my skin. Stood up and turned the shower on and sprayed my face with tepid water for a bout 10 minutes. So much for the relaxing Seaweed & Watermint bath.

Half a bottle of Nivea Sensitive Balm later and the pain has subsided but my face looks like I've been sunbathing in a balaklava! By the time my mates arrive the throbbing & sweats have begun and the shocked look on their faces suggests they think I've let myself go a bit and need to drink more water to flush those toxins out of my system. I show them the remains of the mask and explain the reason for my odd look and I think they believed me.

Ok Ok I know there is a warning on the back that says you should do a sensitivity test on your arm before using the mask but who'd suspect that something so 'healthy' and 'fruity' sounding and costing only 89p could result in a DIY chemical peel.