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Wednesday April 16, 08
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06:57 AM - The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores
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"I am hated for loving
I am hated for loving
Anonymous call, a poison pen
A brick in the small of the back again
I still don't belong
To anyone - I am mine"
I'm sorry to say that I have decided to stop posting my journal here...or anywhere else probably!
Having been victim of some rather nasty posts on the forum I am afraid I have decided that my work here is done! I wish I had a thicker skin....but I don't....
I made a promise to myself at the very beginning of my Solo journey that if I was ever upset personally by anything or anyone here I would pack up my old kit bag and go...I have...so I will.
Sorry to leave "under a cloud" so to speak...I hope you will understand and forgive me for my over sensitive nature and rather spineless attitude to life! But as the saying goes "if you can't stand the heat...get out of the kitchen!"
It's been a blast however...and I have enjoyed my time here very much indeed. I have made some amazing friends here in the journal section (you know who you are surely?) and I will continue to read and enjoy your journals and post comments too. I just don't feel like I want to share my life and my kitchen sink drama's anymore. I must sound like a terrible old drama queen!...I hope that isn't how I shall be remembered?!
Anyway...I didn't want to just vanish without saying goodbye...and THANK YOU...to all of you!
Viva Morrissey!
Love Alma xxx
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Thursday March 20, 08
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09:35 AM - Carnage!
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3.30pm this afternoon marked the start of the long Easter weekend here at Chez Alma...school was out!
You know they do say that "a picture paints a thousand words" or some such marlarky so rather than try to explain the scene in kitchen's up and down the country at 3.45pm on a wet spring afternoon I thought I'd show you....welcome to MY world!
http://i170.photobucket.com/albums/u258/almareallymatters/Carnage006.jpg
And a very HAPPY EASTER to you all!
Love Alma xxx
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Sunday March 16, 08
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03:22 PM - A Very Grim(m) Tale
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Once upon a time in a land far far away there lived a King and his Queen in a small but comfortable castle on the top of a hill. They were happy and content together and before too long they filled their castle with children…well two children to be exact…it was only a very small castle afterall.
The Queen loved her little Prince and her little Princess very much…so much so that she worried day and night about the best way to make them happy. She asked many people thoughout the kingdom for advice on how best to raise her children but she didn’t like what she heard….she didn’t like it one bit! It seemed to her that throughout the land children were sad because for every little wrong-doing they were punished with shrieks of distain and bellows of despair. This would never do!
Then the Queen remembered her own childhood…a happy time when her own Mother never once raised her voice in anger and was her friend. So that is what she decided to do….she made up her mind that her voice would be quiet and gentle like that of her own Mother whom she had loved so dearly and who had long since passed. She would never, ever shout at the little Prince or the little Princess.
The Queen was blessed with good children but they were by no means perfect and her patience was often tested. But when she felt cross or angry with them she remembered the promise she had made to herself and never once did she raise her voice to the little Prince and the little Princess…not once.
One day the Princess asked the Queen if she could have her favourite supper…a tasty home-made lasagne. The Queen agreed and all day the Princess thought excitedly about the lasagne. Infact she was unable to speak of anything but lasagne for the entire day. For the little Princess the day past by very slowly indeed, such was her anticipation at the feast that was to come. As supper time approached her stomach rumbled so loudly the walls of the castle shook!
Later that same day the Queen fell ill. She really had no strength at all and the thought of making lasagne for the Princess fill her with dread. The Queen asked the Princess whether maybe they could have something else for supper and have the lasagne another day when she was feeling better. The Princess was a good girl and agreed but her eyes were filled with disappointment and sadness and the Queens heart ached.
“I promised you a lasagne my dear Princess…and a lasagne is just what you shall have!”
The Queen retired to the kitchen where he fried and stirred and whisked and grated and blended and chopped and crushed until she had made the biggest and best lasagne the Kingdom had ever seen. The smells wafting from the castle kitchen were met with groans of anticipation from the little Princess who couldn’t wait until it was time to tuck into her delicious supper. The Queen put the lasagne in the oven and set about preparing the table for the feast.
Such was the little Princesses excitement the Queen decided that rather than dine in the castle kitchen they would take supper in the grand dining room. She lovingly laid the table and put out her best tablecloth and favourite china that usually only saw the light of day when they were entertaining passing dignitaries from lands far away.
Eventually the lasagne was ready and the Queen mopped her fevered brow and proudly brought the magnificent dish to the table before the King and little Prince and the little Princess. Although she still felt terribly unwell she took solace in the fact that her family were all together at the table and would share happily in the fruits of her labour.
The Queen served the lasagne and the King and the little Prince and the little Princess licked their lips and began devouring their meal and all seemed well in the castle.
Presently the Queen noticed that the little Princess was playing with her food…pushing the lasagne that she has toiled so hard to make around her plate.
“Whatever is the matter Princess?… is there something wrong with your lasagne?”
“No Mother…I just don’t really feel very hungry afterall!”
At this moment the Queen forgot her vow to never raise her voice in anger at her beloved children. It was as if she had been momentarily gripped by an evil spell. She summoned every ounce of strength she could muster and yelled so loudly that the very ground she stood on shook and shuddered….
“HOW DARE YOU!...YOU KNOW THAT I AM UNWELL…I HAVE TOILED FOR HOURS AND HOURS TO MAKE YOU THAT SUPPER…THE SUPPER THAT YOU WANTED…. AND NOW YOU WON’T BLOODY EAT IT!...I AM VERY CROSS INDEED!”
All around the table fell into a stunned silence. Neither the King nor the little Prince nor the little Princess had EVER heard the Queen shout before or seen her so very cross (not to mention heard her using the B word!) For the little Princess it was as if her world was about to end and she was gripped with terror.
At this moment the Princesses face turned a horrid shade of green and she gulped a huge gulp. Then there erupted from her mouth an explosion of vomit that covered the table, herself and the lasagne like flames from the mouth of an angry dragon. She began to shake and cry uncontrollably and was filled with sorrow and regret and fear at the wrath of the Queen. The Queen began to shriek and cry too and ran to her chamber in floods of tears leaving the King to clear up the mess she had made. The Queen was angry with the little Princess…but she was also angry with herself for breaking the vow she had made all those years ago.
So nobody in the castle ate lasagne that night…infact nobody ate anything at all as the sight of the vomit covered table had quite ruined their appetite….but the Queen NEVER shouted at her children EVER again…and they all lived happily ever after.
Love Alma xxx
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Wednesday March 12, 08
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03:25 AM - Every Shopping Basket Tells A Story....
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We were short-staffed at school the other day as one of the dinner-ladies had to take her son for an emergency visit to the dentist following a rather nasty bicycle accident that saw his two front teeth meet an untimely end on the pavement. I FOOLISHLY volunteered to take over her role in the dinner hall for the day…NEVER again!
Can I just state here and now that whoever the smug GIT was who decided it was a good idea to put fromage frais into SQUEEZY tubes is a complete and utter BASTARD! (bound to have been a man) It seems that every child at school (all 400 of the little whipper-snappers) loves squeezy fromage frais…and all 400 of ‘em can’t open the little suckers without a fromage frais EXPLOSION taking place! It rained fromage frais for an entire hour and I was covered in the stuff …strawberry in the main…a few blobs of raspberry…and a liberal shower of apricot too! Add to this leaky drink cups and soft cheese in impossible to open foil containers and I was, quite frankly, a BLOODY mess!
After work I popped into the supermarket for a few “essentials”…clumps of fromage frais splattered generously in my hair and all over my shoes and trousers…my school whistle hanging by its cord around my neck….my regulation tabard peeking out from my handbag….oh the glamour of it all! I did smell quite nice though I guess…like a veritable fruit cocktail!
I grabbed the “essentials” I needed and headed for the “5 items or less” check-out reasoning I’d be in and out in a trice and could get home, de-fromage frais myself and have a much needed sit down and a nice cup of tea before the children got home from school.
There were four people in the line at the “5 items or less” check-out and I found myself gazing, trance-like, into their shopping baskets…..
The first man didn’t actually have a basket at all as he only had one item. He was dressed in business attire minus the jacket and seemed in such a hurry I am guessing he had left his engine running outside, with no regard whatsoever for his carbon-footprint, planning a hasty get-away. He was buying a large bunch of flowers in pretty shades of cream and pink. I found myself wondering who they were for? Maybe he had forgotten a birthday and they were SORRY flowers? Or maybe somebody in the office was leaving and it was a GOODBYE bouquet? Maybe he was on his way to hospital to visit a sick relative?…his Mum maybe?…and they were a GET WELL SOON wish? Maybe he had had a monsterous fight with his wife and they were a TAIL BETWEEN HIS LEGS offering? He paid TILL-LADY with a credit card.…Ł9.99…and duly legged-it…flowers in hand….and flushed with retail success!
Behind FLORAL-GESTURE-MAN stood a rather shabby gentleman in his early sixties I guess. He also had just one item…a cheap bottle of supermarket brand whisky. I looked up at him after I spied the bottle and sure enough he had the ruddy purple complexion of a man who likes more than the occasional “tipple” not to mention a huge bulbous nose like that guy from The Streets Of San Francisco! Much to the mans embarrassment TILL-LADY couldn’t, try as she might, remove the security tag from the bottle and rang her little “I need assistance” bell for all she was worth! I am sure the mans face must have reddened....hard to tell beneath his alcoholic purple tinge. As TILL-LADY wrestled with the little plastic disc he shuffled on his feet nervously and had the look of a rabbit caught in the headlights of a speeding car. Why was he buying whiskey at 1.30 in the afternoon I wondered? Was he drinking to forget? Had one event…one horrible twist of fate…led him here? Was he on a downward spiral of disaster? Was he all alone in the world? He paid cash for his bottle and left in a hurry feeling the shame of his purchase. I don’t know what the other people in the queue made of him but I just felt sad and thought “there but for the grace of God go I”
Behind STREETS-OF-SAN-FRANCISCO-MAN was a young and rather handsome man in his twenties. His basket contained two salmon fillets….some “steam in the bag” vegetables…a bottle of white wine…a chocolate cheesecake and some fresh raspberries. The contents of his basket said just one thing to me…LOVE! Was he planning a night of seduction? Did he have a budding new relationship in the offing? Was he hopeful that the PING of the microwave steaming his veg would be duly followed by the PING of knicker-elastic? I decided that he had done well with his chosen menu of seduction….especially the cheesecake….and that his luck could certainly be in tonight…and judging by his gentle grim I think he agreed! He paid with his “flexible friend” and fair skipped out of the supermarket towards his date with destiny!
After HOPEFUL-OF-A-SHAG-MAN it was the turn of the woman directly in front of me to approach TILL-LADY. She was a busy working Mummy too I guess from her office attire and the contents of her basket. She had a few staples…bread…milk…orange juice and the like. She also had some school packed-lunch fare…a packet of ham…crisps…individually wrapped mini jaffa cakes. And there…lurking under her white sliced loaf I spied them….SQUEEZY FROMAGE FRAIS! I was just about to issue her with a warning about their propensity to EXPLODE in a shower of gloop when the alarm bells sounded in my head! The cow had…one…two…three….SIX items in her basket! SIX! This was the “five items or less” check-out! Busy Mummy or not she had shown a blatant disregard for supermarket etiquette and quite frankly she deserved all she got SQUEEZY-FROMAGE-FRAIS wise…she was on her own! I could have warned her…shown some Mummy solidarity…but I didn’t…”Why Don’t You Find Out For Yourself?”
SQUEEZY-FROMAGE-FRAIS-VIRGIN-WOMAN paid and left in blissful ignorance of the foolishness of her purchase and finally…FINALLY…it was my turn to approach TILL-LADY…pay for my “essentials” and get home for my cuppa…shopping basket amateur psychology over for the day!
So…what was in my basket?
I had purchased 40 tampons (super absorbency to cope with a “heavy flow”)….a family-size bar of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk chocolate (which may have been made to share…but I sure as hell weren’t gonna)…a packet of 20 paracetamol-plus pain relief capsules (of the “easy swallow” variety)….and a bottle of dry white wine!
Every shopping basket tells a story?...Well go ahead...Analyse THAT!
Love Alma xxx
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Thursday February 28, 08
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03:08 AM - Big Chief
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As it’s Mother’s Day this Sunday I thought I’d tell you a tale from my childhood….a tale about what it was like with my Mum.
It was a blisteringly hot summer’s day and I was about six or seven years old (1973...74) and out playing in the garden. At this point in my life I was an only child. My siblings didn’t come along until much later…a reason why I don’t think I was ever that close to my brother and sister. They were a little “gang”...the two of them...still are...and I was always on the outside looking in.
My Dad was inside cleaning the house and making it all “nice” for a very special visit. You see as usual my Mum was “away”…resident in a victorian mental instituation miles away. It was a horrible place with padded rooms…screaming…and people walking backwards! Needless to say my Dad didn’t take me to visit my Mum there very often…it was a terrifying place to a “grown-up”…to a child it was the stuff of nightmares.
On this day my Mum had been deemed well enough to come for a ”home visit” after weeks of Electric Shock Treatment…a delivery of volts to her brain that would jolt her back to mental well-being. As we didn’t have a car my Uncle Des had gone to collect her in his old Ford Cortina. I was desperately excited…I hadn’t seen my Mum for almost a month.
As I played outside I heard the chimes of the ice-cream van coming down our road and ran inside to ask Dad for some money for an ice-cream. He came outside with me to the van and I chose a lolly. It was called a BIG CHIEF as it had pictures of red indians on the packet. It was a strawberry lolly covered with nobbly multi-coloured hundreds and thousands. I was delighted with my BIG CHIEF and hastily ripped off the paper and started licking away on it like my life depended on it sat on a deck chair in the garden. Life seemed pretty BLOODY good at that moment I can tell you….I had a lolly…and my Mum was coming home (albeit just for the day)
After a while I got to thinking that my Mum might like to try a bit of my BIG CHIEF! I went inside and told my Dad I wanted to save a bit of the lolly for my Mum. I put it carefully in the little ice-box at the top of our fridge next to the fish fingers and went back outside in the garden to play and to wait for the back gate to open and Mum and Uncle Des to come walking up the garden path towards the house. I wanted to be there to greet her and run into her arms the very moment she arrived. I watched that gate like a hawk I did the entire morning!
That lolly was on my mind though. I was boiling hot and that lolly was so cold and tasty. I went back inside and told my Dad I might just take a few more licks. And that’s what I did! I licked and licked until it was about half gone and then put it back in the ice-box for Mum. I was sure she would love the BIG CHIEF as much as I did.
Inevitably after a while the lolly called to me again from the ice-box….”eat me…eat me…eat me….come on…just one more lick!” I was drawn to that lolly like bees to a flower in the sunshine of the morning!
The BIG CHIEF was just a tiny blob of strawberry goo looking all sad on it’s little wooden stick…hardly worth saving now…so I popped the final bit in my mouth just as Dad came into the kitchen with the mop….
“Oh!...it’s all gone…I thought you were saving a bit of your BIG CHIEF for your Mummy?”
“It’s alright Dad…she can smell my breath!”
My Dad laughed and ruffled up my hair…
“Go and wait in the garden then…I’m sure she’ll want to smell your breath the minute she get’s here!”
So I went back out into the garden to wait…grinning from ear to ear I was...and sure enough after a while the back gate opened…but Uncle Des was on his own…my Mummy hadn’t wanted to come.
Love Alma xxx
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Tuesday February 19, 08
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03:48 AM - Daffodils
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I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH (1804)
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The children are on their half-term holiday from school this week and, thanks to the beautiful weather, we are busying ourselves getting out and about in the sunshine!
http://i170.photobucket.com/albums/u258/almareallymatters/runnymead033-1.jpg
http://i170.photobucket.com/albums/u258/almareallymatters/runnymead019-1.jpg
Blame the state of the planet...the deterioration of the ozone layer...global BLOODY warming...blame whatever the hell you like...but spring has most definitely sprung early this year here in dear old blighty...and it's beautiful!
You know Mr Wordsworth was so right...nothing sums up a British springtime better than a nice bunch of daffs!
Love Alma xxx
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Sunday February 10, 08
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07:37 AM - "Once you've seen one penis you've seen 'em all!"
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How well do we REALLY know our neighbour?
I ask this because I thought I knew my Polish neighbours in the house opposite pretty well. They are in their mid to late fifties I guess and are a quiet unassuming couple whose passions seem to be gardening, God and their pet cat (although not necessarily in that order)
I base my deduction that they love gardening on the fact that they have a beautiful, well maintained garden and well manicured lawn and spend hours outside tending their plot. Mr Poland takes his gardening very seriously if his vast array of tools and gardening equipment are anything to go by…hell he even has a leaf blowing/sucker-upper thingy…and he ain’t afraid to use it! I have even known him to be out blowing and sucking leaves at 10 o’clock at night dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts and a smile…always a smile!
I am sure they are religious too. You see it is only on a rare occasion that I manage to haul my lazy arse out of bed on a Sunday morning for Mass but when I do they are ALWAYS there…ALWAYS. I remember particularly the Sunday after 9/11 they were there at the front of the congregation. I remember this vividly because Mrs Poland was crying throughout the service and Mr Poland was her rock…his arm lovingly around her shoulders supporting her as she wept silently for those who had been lost. I wondered at the time whether they maybe had family or friends involved in the tragedy such was the power and strength of her reaction.
Then, when Pope John Paul died, the pair of them hot-footed it over to Rome for the funeral. They had knocked on our door very late in the evening and said “we are going to Rome to say goodbye to the Holy Father…could you possibly look after the cat?” I BLOODY hate cats but how could I possibly say no? (my first instincts proved with foundation when Tibus got stuck up a FUCKING tree when they were away leaving me and the Sarge trying to coax the moggy down for hours in our BLOODY pyjamas and the Sarge eventually climbing the tree in the dead of night to retrieve the daft ball of hair!) Mr & Mrs Poland were very grateful to us for stepping into the breach though and brought me back a lovely picture of the Pope in a simple wooden frame which is to this day in the glass cabinet in my dining room.
Mr & Mrs Poland love Tibus. They don’t have children as they married late in life and Tibus is their baby. They actually take that BLOODY cat out for walks…on a lead...which strikes me as a little odd! They pass by other neighbours out walking their dogs and say “hello” with Tibus at their heels in his red velvet collar (with bell attached) and on his little lead!
The other weird thing about Mr & Mrs Poland is that they both wear clogs! Mrs Poland has pink clogs and Mr Poland white. You always know when they are out gardening or walking the cat by the clip-clop clip-clop of their matching clogs on the pavement.
In all the years we have been neighbours I have probably only spoken at length to Mr & Mrs Poland a handful of times apart from the habitual “hello!” when our paths cross whilst out getting the dustbin round or cleaning the car. They send us a Christmas card (always a religious one) and we send them one in return (NEVER a religious one) To my mind they are great neighbours…quiet…tidy…friendly (without being over familiar) They get on with their lives and we get on with ours and we live side-by-side in perfect harmony…PERFECT!
I saw Mrs Poland the other day…out walking the cat…in her clogs! I was on my way to the library to return some books for the children and in no particular hurry so I stopped for a chat….
“Hello Tibus!”
I bend down, stroke the cat, and turn my attention to Mrs Poland...
“How are you?…isn’t it a beautiful day?"
Mrs Poland looks very pleased with herself and bursting to tell me something. Tibus is happily sniffing her clogs!
“Oh I’m great…we have just brought a beautiful apartment in Spain!”
“How exciting!…well we know where to come now when we fancy a week in the sun!”
“Oh…I don’t think so…it’s on a naturist reserve!”
I try (and fail) not to look shocked…”come on Alma…hold yourself together…take this revelation in your stride”…I feel my face reddening…I decide to take the jovial approach….
“Ewwww!...maybe we’ll give it a miss then…not sure I could face eating my breakfast with naked strangers roaming about the place…quite put me off my cornflakes it would!”
Mrs Poland smiles a quiet unassuming smile…
“Oh Alma…once you’ve seen one penis you've seem ‘em all dear!”
So there you have it…my quiet, devout Catholic, clog wearing, cat obsessed Polish neighbours are nudists! You think you know people…but you don’t…we are all full of surprises it seems. I don’t imagine for one minute that they indulge in wild wife-swapping parties….car keys in the fruit bowl…swinging and the like…but who knows? I just hope Mr Poland is careful where he points that leaf sucker-upper gadget on his holidays!
I told the Sarge about Mr & Mrs Poland…we discussed it over dinner and giggled like children till our sides hurt. The Sarge said…
“I wonder if they keep their clogs on?”
and we laughed some more!
They are a lovely old couple…and PERFECT neighbours…but I really don’t know if I will ever be able to think of them in quiet the same way again…
http://i170.photobucket.com/albums/u258/almareallymatters/naturist-couple.jpg
Clip-clop...clip-clop....clip-clop!
So…how well do you REALLY know YOUR neighbours?
Love Alma xxx
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Wednesday January 30, 08
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03:29 AM - "You know I Couldn't Last"
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“I realize I am placing a huge responsibility on the shoulders of Morrissey but I need him to “save me…save me…save me” like never before…and he will…just like he always does.”
almareallymatters
16th January 2008
I am not normally one to quote MYSELF but it seems wholly appropriate on this occasion…well…how wrong can a girl possibly be?!
It had all started off so well too! Although this is hardly surprising when you consider that my night at The Roundhouse had been planned with the precision of a military operation…the Normandy Landings were, quite frankly, utterly shambolic by comparison!
Myself and my dearest friend Anais had set off for London as soon as I had hung up my whistle after playground duty last Friday. By 2.30pm we were enjoying a gourmet packed lunch (brie, watercress and cranberry sauce sandwiches, a bag of “posh” crisps, double chocolate muffins and a decent bottle of rose) on the train to Waterloo. We scoffed and chatted and drank and chatted and whooped with delight all the way to giddy London and the date with our hero that we had been anticipating for many a long week. As girly adventures go they really don’t get much better that this!
Just a few stops on the underground found us in Camden and would you Adam & Eve it? We were FIRST in the queue…FIRST…brilliantly, spectacularly, fantastically FIRST! Victory for the “day-trippers”, even beating the purple wrist-banded six-day pass hard-core brigade into a sorry SECOND place! In the words of Sinatra “a number one…top of the heap…king of the hill…top of the list…” etc etc. (I suppose I should have guessed the only way to go from THERE was DOWN!)
The queue was fun! I met some great new people and got reaquainted with some old ones against a backdrop of excitement so real you could almost touch it. Just before we made our way into the venue I realised that I had horribly over-catered for the event and went down the line distributing sandwiches and muffins to the cold and hungry masses. Most were very grateful for the gesture and tucked into the veritable treats on offer with gusto...a couple did ask if I had a vegan option! Cheeky bastards..."It's cheese duckie...like it or lump it!"
Once inside The Roundhouse our military style assult continued to reap it's own reward as we found ourselves stood one row back, stage left...the vantage point of dreams in our world!
Morrissey took to the stage and without over-cooking this whole tale I can honestly say (hand-on-heart) that our boy has NEVER looked better. As ever his skin was fresh and flawless, his jaw strong and eyes sparkling the bluest shade of blue..."they're just gelignite, loaded and aiming right between your eyes". His hair was beautiful too...much more grey than last year...wonderfully sculpted...a quiff of complete and utter perfection. Most spectaculary of all he had jeans on!...WOW!...I do love Mozzy in a nice bit of denim! The blue of his shirt made his eyes seem even brighter and he had an aura about him that is almost impossible to put into words...like if the lighting had failed it wouldn't have mattered a jot...he would have been illuminated anyway...in a spot-light of his own making...man he shone!
http://i170.photobucket.com/albums/u258/almareallymatters/CIMG1613.jpg
What better start to a show could there be than a Smiths classic? The thing is I was just so glad to be there and to be able to gaze at this vision of wonder and delight I almost failed to notice that singing "Please, Please, Please..." was clearly a struggle vocally. It wasn't until I found this that I fully appreciated the inevitability of what lay ahead....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9gzxwlWh_M
Another clue to our impending fate came when he made some quip about anti-biotics "all being a waste of time" or some such marlarky before launching into "Something Is Squeezing My Skull". I had purposely avoided hearing this new song in the run-up to the show...a very good decision! It was brilliant...really grabbed me on first listen...not what you would deem a "grower" in my world. I sensed Morrissey was very proud of the song too...he attacked it with the confidence of a boy who knows he's done good....and he had.
He introduced "Last Of The Famous International Playboys" muttering something like "and so back to the mental asylum" which was entirely appropriate as the crowd went FUCKING mad! The crush was almost unbearable and I very nearly bailed out...arms were flailing...all were singing...and for a few minutes we were all (men and women alike) FAMOUS...and INTERNATIONAL...and PLAYBOYS! (yes...even me!)
So to "I Just Want To See The Boy Happy"...and you hardly needed to be Columbo or Miss FLAMING Marple to work out that the evening was about to FUCK up BIG TIME! First came a telling lyric change...from "because soon I will be dead" to "in ten minutes I will be dead". Then he started missing out whole sections of the song...then spraying his throat with some kind of spray that filled the air like mist on a cold night...this didn't look good people...it didn't look good at all! Finally he lifted the lid from a cup of what appeared to be a hot drink of some kind and took a huge gulp. I hoped that cup contained some kind of magical potion circa Harry BLOODY Potter..."eye of newt...toe of frog"...it didn't! It was over...
There was confusion all around...girls crying...men angry...lots of moaning about the expense of the aborted evening...it was pretty ugly in there for a while. And there we stood...me and Anais...almost unable to speak. The shock of Morrissey's "early bath" didn't really hit us straight away. To be honest we were still reeling from the jeans!...the seductive way he had run his hand down his denim clad thigh inches from our faces...the way he had pulled his shirt open and revealed and stroked his left nipple...
Enter stage right Jonathon Ross (prick) David Walliams (of whom I have no opinion whatsoever) and the glorious Russell Brand who, as much as I love, was up against it from the start...it was like sending a boy in to do a man's job and even his wit and undeniable charm failed to appease the crowd who were at best inconsolable...at worse baying for BLOOD!
Alright...so I did go to the show "dreaming the impossible dream"...that Morrissey could somehow take an eraser to the last few weeks and refresh and renew my life...well he couldn't...and he didn't...he is only a man for Christ's sake...what the hell did I REALLY expect?
As you know though I am ever the optimist and can see only positives in this whole sorry episode now...
* I will get a rescheduled date to see Morrissey
again soon.
* Because of this I haven't had the awful and
debilitating post-show blues to survive.
* I also got four songs...which is infinitely
better than no BLOODY songs at all.
* The rescheduled date will mean another adventure
with my wonderful friend Anais.
* If our military style planning was impressive
this time just imagine how FUCKING excellent it
it will be next time?...we will be INVINCIBLE!
* He had his BLOODY jeans on...for which I will
always be eternally grateful!
On Saturday afternoon driving Anais to the station to get her train back to her rural idle we mercilessly took the piss out of the Sarge's choice of radio station. He favours a little local station as he likes to keep abreast of local news (for work) and the local sports news (for leisure) and the traffic situation (just because) We got to the station and dropped off my Mozzy-partner-in-crime and waved to her as she made her way to her train, sad but safe in the knowledge that she will be back soon!
Me and the Sarge get back in the car...SHITTY FM back on the radio...and then they play THIS CHARMING MAN...how wierd is that! What are the chances? And there was me all ready to hang the DJ!
It neatly drew a line under my adventures at The Roundhouse...like going full circle...one day I am in the presence of Morrissey and listening to a fantastic new song filling me with excitement of what is still to come from our boy...the next I am back where it all began...being reminded of the start of it all over twenty years ago. I may be older now..."but I'm a clever swine!"...and my hero may be greying and whip his mic lead a little less than he once did...but the excitement and anticipation are still there...still the very same as they always were...
Yes Friday was a disappointing end to an adventure that had promised so much...but will we be back for more?...well yes..."because we must"...
Love Alma xxx
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Wednesday January 16, 08
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11:15 AM - Mundane
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MUNDANE (adj) common; ordinary; banal; unimaginative
Following the cruel emotional blow I was dealt pre-Christmas I have dusted myself down and am just busy getting on with life I guess….well what else can you do? I would describe my current status as “stable” but with the odd little “wobble” along the way…strong in the main but a few silent tears at the kitchen sink whilst peeling the spuds about sums it up! Complete and total well-being is still a world away…but I’m getting there. I’m trying to be philosophical about the whole sorry episode now…well who hasn’t had their balls firmly kicked on occasion? There are a few exciting adventures on the horizon which should serve as welcome distractions but in the meantime I am finding joy in the simple pleasures of life. To quote the wonderfully brisk Deborah Meadon in BBC’s excellent Dragon’s Den…”let me tell you where I am!”
This is my second week in my new job as a playground assistant at a local primary school and I am loving it! I have a whistle…and I’m not afraid to use it! The power of the humble whistle is incredible…I blow it and the children instantly FREEZE! I am trying not to let the power of my new found whistle blowing status go to my head…but it ain’t easy! I love the time I spend at school each day more than I ever could have imagined. The children are amazing…so full of exuberance…their horizons so small and uncomplicated…their company bliss. I have a little fan club of children who run to me as soon as the bell rings and want to hold my hand and walk around the playground “helping” me…big ones…little ones…cheeky ones…pretty ones…dirty ones…bright ones…funny ones…these little unique bundles of wonder! It’s a far cry from my days of office politics and paper pushing and to be honest it doesn’t feel like a job at all. It’s like being paid to have fun and I think I would happily do it for free (but don’t tell them that!)
The only thing that bothers me about my new job infact is WHY THE HELL DIDN’T I DO IT SOONER! I am finally, after 20 years of going through the motions, in employment HEAVEN…a most wonderous place to be! On the employment front at least it seems 2008 could be a very good year indeed! Ok…so one of the older boys called a college a “fucking bitch” yesterday…but nobodys perfect…and she is a bit of a bitch actually! You can’t blame a kid for being a decent judge of character now can you?…quite a skill in one so young I reckon and one that will serve him greatly as he lurches toward impending adulthood. When I left work he was sitting on the “naughty chair” outside the office awaiting the arrival of his Mum to face an audience with the Headmaster looking all forlon and full of regret. I somehow resisted the urge to throw my arms around him in a show of support and sympathy for the inevitable punishment that lay ahead. He is quite a cute little kid…despite his somewhat “colourful” use of the English language! “The teachers are afraid of the pupils”…but this dinner lady sure as hell ain’t!
It’s only a few days now until I will join the merry throng at The Roundhouse for a date with our boy and excitement is reaching FEVER PITCH! In the entire history of my Morrissey fandom I have never needed an audience with my hero more than this one. The prospect of totally loosing myself for an hour and a half with nothing in my head but Morrissey is delicious right now…to switch off from the world for a while and forget the complications and disappointments of life and focus only on that which is good and exciting and perfect. I realize I am placing a huge responsibility on the shoulders of Morrissey but I need him to “save me…save me…save me” like never before…and he will…just like he always does. I will report back my findings in this regard in due course!
A few days after my audience with Morrissey I will, after much organizing and many a geographical headache, be venturing back into London. This time to attend an audition for the BBC quiz show Eggheads with Morrissey Solo’s very own team! Sounds like it should be a fun day out if nothing else. The Suedeheads will film a small piece to camera in which we individally introduce ourselves. After that the cameras will stop rolling and we must sit a general knowledge test to establish whether we are reasonably bright afterall…or as thick as the proverbial pig-shit! The final part of the audition will be the playing of a game of Eggheads against another would-be team. All quite painless it seems and a brilliant excuse for a post-Roundhouse Mozzy get-together and a session in the pub thereafter! I admit I am starting to get a trifle nervous at the prospect of getting my intellect tested on national TV…or at least I was…until last night!
On last nights edition of Eggheads there was a team of beauty queens playing. They had clearly decided that appearing on the show may finally dispel the myth that the kind of women that enter beauty pagents are sadly lacking in the brain department! Somewhat predictably their decision to take this route towards proving their point proved horribly misguided and they FUCKED up BIG time! They failed infact to get a single glamour-puss through to the final round. Impossibly gorgeous?...a matter of opinion I guess but generally yes (the presenter Dermot clearly thought so and flirted outrageously with all of them...the wily old fox!)…as thick as shit?...yes siree! So my nerves are in check now based on the notion that as crap as The Suedeheads may do there is no way on God’s earth we can possibly be as stupid as THAT!
Apart from the new job and the upcoming adventures in Morrissey-Land it’s been pretty much “business as usual” at Chez Alma…not a lot happening…but I like it that way…well you know where you are with tedium don’t you?
It’s been raining here almost endlessly for days now…weeks infact…and our walks to school have been very sludgey soggy affairs indeed! It was on such a morning that Dan complained of sore feet and it suddenly struck me that the poor little mite had clearly outgrown his wellies. I promised him new ones and he eagerly requested “blue ones…or red ones…with pictures on!” Wellington boot shopping is not exactly my idea of high octane excitement…but needs must and all of that. The problem was try as I might all the wellies I found were entirely unsuitable…lots of green ones with pictures on…lots of red ones but without pictures…and a few blue ones with pictures BUT NOT IN SIZE 11! When I did finally find a shop with lots of wellies in the correct colour AND size AND with pictures the BLOODY pictures were the problem! Dan is six now and reasonably grown-up for his age and as such can no longer be fobbed off with Thomas The Tank Engine or Postman BLOODY Pat…oh no…his wellies needed to be COOL…super-COOL infact!
The search seemed endless and the shops crammed with January sale bargain hunters but just as death was beginning to loose it’s sting I spied them…a pair of BLUE wellies in SIZE 11 with pictures on…Dr Who wellies no less emblazoned with pictures of darleks and cybermen…PERFECT! Just a pair of rubber Wellington boots to you and me maybe but to Dan they represented THE WELLIES OF HIS WILDEST DREAMS!
To say Dan was thrilled with his new wellies would be a gross understatement! When I got back from the shops just before lunch he opened the bag, described them as “completely fantastic” and put them straight on. He wore them for the rest of the day around the house. He ate his lunch in them…and his dinner! After dinner he changed into his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pyjamas and put his wellies back on and wore them till bedtime! I wrestled them off his feet after his bedtime story and his socks were ringing wet with sweat. Had he worn them for a moment longer I feel sure trench foot would have set in and he would have ended up walking around on stumps. His feet didn’t smell horrible though…quite pleasant infact…you know that lovely new plasticy smell that leaves you taking numerous sniffs and still wanting more…like a new pencil case…or a new paddling pool….or a bicycle tyre. When Dan finally got into bed he left his boots next to it so in the morning he could “slip his feet straight in” as soon as he awoke. He did too…he climbed into my bed in the morning in nothing but his underpants and his new wellies. It rained that day but Dan didn’t want to go out for fear he would get his new wellies dirty and wet (surely the point of wellies?) and then wouldn’t be able to wear then indoors anymore! He has worn them indoors almost non–stop since he got them…they go straight on when he wakes up…off for school…and back on after school till bedtime! Now I may not be the brightest spark in the world but if the lovely Dermot asks me on Eggheads “does your son like his new Dr Who wellies?” I think I can answer with some degree of certainty “Yes Dermot...I think he does!”
The sight of your six year old dressed in nothing but a pair of Spiderman Y-Fronts and a pair of Dr Who wellington boots is quite the tonic for a somewhat down-at-heel Mummy I can tell you…but I have found another cause for pleasure of late…onions! Not just any old onion's though…those lovely sweet little red one’s. It’s not the taste of them so much (although they are delicious)…more the look of the little oniony blighters. When you peel off the rough papery skin what you reveal is a little jewel of lovliness…the most beautiful shade of red and so glossy and shiny you can almost see your reflection in it. Then when you slice it the underside of the skin is the whitest of whites you have ever seen contrasting with the deepest of reds. To me they are like rubies and I simply cannot peel one without marvelling at the beauty of its form and the sharp crisp sound you hear as you slice it. I have never in my life been quite so BLOODY excited about a vegetable…red onions are as pretty to me right now as flowers in a vase (although I guess that should the Sarge present me with a bunch of onions as a romantic gesture I may be faintly disappointed…but only faintly!) I know peeling onions is supposed to make you cry but all I can do is smile…a bit strange I guess…so I have a red onion fetish bordering on mild obsession?…well there you go! *SHRUGS SHOULDERS*
Onions aside family life rumbles on….actually if I was a bit sharper I’m sure there would be a nice neat way to link this next bit to my new found joy of onions! Actually I guess that I can…you see life can be a bit like the rough papery skin of an onion…boring and “everyday”…but look just beneath the surface and there is often something beautiful to be found….something special….a buried treasure you might say….
The other evening the four of us were on the sofa cuddled up together in the front room…two vacant armchairs…yet a sofa wedged with a sea of tangled arms and entwined legs! We were together in a physical sense but each of us had drifted away and was doing our own “thing.” I sat at one end of the sofa with my back on the arm rest and my feet in Rachel’s lap reading the newspaper and drinking a glass of wine. Rachel was reading too….as usual!....a book she had borrowed from the library called “Vile Victorians” (her thirst for all things historical is almost unquenchable) whilst leaning on her brother. Dan was playing with his Super Monkey Balls! (No!...not his genitalia!…the Nintendo DS game Santa gave him at the police station children's Christmas party) with his head nestled into his Daddy’s chest....and his wellies on...obviously! The Sarge was at the other end of the sofa watching a football match on the TV whilst holding an ice pack on his arm nursing his latest gym-related injury sustained in pursuit of the peak of physical fitness (his “thing”)
So there we were…the rain falling hard outside…all cosy and safe and content...
I looked down the line at my family…the children in the middle and me and the Sarge on the ends like two bookends protecting the fruits of our marriage from the harsh world outside. Looking at the three of them, all lost in their own little worlds, I thought to myself that at that very moment there was nowhere in the world I’d rather be or nobody I’d rather be with than these three remarkable human beings…they are my entire world…Rachel, Dan and the Sarge. Events of recent weeks may have made me question many things about myself and those around me but at that moment I finally began to feel the cloud that has rested over me begin to lift and for the first time in ages I felt truly happy again.
Rachel looked up from her book…..
“Mum…what does MUNDANE mean?”
“Oh…kind of ordinary…everyday….not very exciting…a bit boring I guess...kind of like the four of us sat here on the sofa doing not very much at all!”
“Oh I don’t think this is in the least bit MUNDANE Mum!”
“No mate...neither do I...why don’t you read to me for a bit?”
And she did...and all was well in the world...
“The life of a Victorian child was very mundane……………”
Love Alma xxx
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