Fifty Socks of Grey by E L Blighty

"Holy Crap!" gasped Anastasia, "That's just enormous....huge...!!!"
"And all for you Anastasia, " growled Christian Blighty, charismatic, damaged and dangerous - the sort of Top Executive parliamentary draftsman that knew his way round semi-colons...a guy who put syncopation in his punctuation.

Anastasia's Inner Goddess did an exotic pole dance, before putting her back out and having to be helped to her seat.

Yes, it was truly the biggest pile of unsorted socks Anastasia had ever seen.

"And now", said Christian Blighty, "I am going to take you to the White Room of  Pain..."
"Oh no, not the utility room," groaned AnagoshthisnameislongcanIjustcallherNasty?, her Inner Goddess breaking wind gently and lighting up a fag.

"Yes," was Christian's masterful reply.  "And there you will do something you have never done before..  you will sort the socks into pairs and put them away in your drawers... yes, there you have it, it's my tremendous Sox Appeal.."

Yep, dahlings, almost everyone I know has read or is reading Those Books*.  Except me.  I am resisting, out of sheer contrariness...I just enjoy reading reviews of them and listening to other mothers discussing them:

"I was up to 3am reading it."
"Some of those things are just not physically possible."
"I told my husband I was off to bed to read it - when he joined me ever hopeful, I was fast asleep with my reading glasses on."
"Mrs Blighty, sorry but you can't stand here with us, you have to go stand over there with the other people who have not read it; yes, Mr Pinkerton, the retired headmaster, oh, wait a minute, he's read it now too.."

 A friend even updated her Facebook page with"It's all coming to an end with Mr Grey."

And when I looked at Grain de Musc the perfume blog of Denyse Beaulieu, I found that she is currently working on the French translation of 50 Shades ....it's everywhere I turn!

I suspect my refusal to join the Greyfest is largely motivated by jealousy - I wish I had penned a bestseller like this.  Although any mommy porn I author is going to be less erotic and more idiotic. ...

"I want you now, here, in the escalator," demanded Christian urgently.
"Are you sure? "
"Yes, there is just something about escalators."
"No, I mean, don't you mean "elevator" not "escalator"?" queried Anaethesia, breathlessly; "We don't want to get anything caught in the moving parts and the other shoppers might not like it.."
"You damn bourgeois fool you," blazed Christian, as they arrived at Home Furnishings.



* 50 Socks Of Grey
Paddington Bear At Large
Grey Underpants In My Sink

New species spotted at Blighty HQ?

Email to: WildlifeTrustIdentifyThatCritter@beetle.com
From: BledwinaBlighty@wheretheheckaremyreadingglasses.com

Dear Wildlife Trust,

I would like your help in identifying a strange new creature which I spotted emerging from our bathroom this morning. I  am pretty sure it is a mammal, though it does has some reptilian features, in particular its ability not to blink when asked if it has cleaned its teeth.

It may be a member of the porcupine family, or possibly hedgehog.  It seems to have some sort of spikes.

It has been making a couple of interesting noises: yesterday it emitted sounds along the lines of "muuuuuuumcannaIhavsomehairgel" a strange, unnerving refrain.  Today when approached it let out a harsh cry:"DONTOUCHDAHAIR!"

The creature also seems to be leaving a sticky trail ....which can be traced back to a pot labelled "Beachy Surf  Dude".

I attach a visual.

I eagerly await your reply, as do not know whether to feed this creature as it lies on the sofa or chase it outside for a good run around the garden.

Regards
Mrs Blighty



Email to:  BledwinaBlighty@wheretheheckaremyreadingglasses.com
From: WildlifeTrustIdentifyThatCritter@beetle.com

Dear Mrs Blighty,

From your description and the photo it seems what you are dealing with is homo sapiens pre teenagius : Pre Teen Boy.  This subspecies is fairly common in the British Isles.  Eventually a fully fledged teenager will take its place, turn day into night and leave half eaten bowls of cereal under its bed.

In the meantime, to ensure your PTB thrives, try to limit the amount of commerical TV it watches - these complex creatures are highly susceptible to ads for hairgel, bodyspray and other grrooming products.  Make sure its drainpipe jeans do not cut off its circulation.  Never under any circumstances ask if it needs a wee.

Finally, if the hairgel situation gets out of control, warn your PTB that he looks like he is evolving into a dangerous mutation: the justinus bieberus.  That usually does the trick.

Regards
Bill Bored

Watching With Mother

Dahlings,  just dropped by as a kind of insurance policy....I can't say too much* but I am sure one of the Dahpne4Boyz mothers works for the FBI or the CIA (she is American and very clever and used to work for NASA, this is true)....so if I suddenly disappear, please contact Mr B - code word RENDITION PROTOCCOL 5 - FAILURE TO PAY SCHOOL SWIMCLUB SUBSCRIPTION - he will understand what you mean and swing into action on the Thai brides website to get me back....

You see, the mother in question has been regularly updating us on our son's movements during the epic Cornwall school trip - by cleverly locating and linking us into public webcams where ever they are. Her surveillance skills are outstanding.....

NOTE TO BOY 1 - NEVER EVER SWIPE SURVEILLANCE MOM'S BOY'S BLAZER UNLESS YOU WANT TO WEAR ORANGE .  Which to be honest is a very tricky colour for you to pull off with your skintone. And well done on watching all those Jason Bourne films in pre-trip training.


One other thing is worrying me.  Apparently the boys have been romping around in Lusty Glaze and Hydra Waterworld.  I really, really hope these are local attractions of the beach/swimming pool variety...as I can't help thinking, they would make great names for porn stars. I may have shared this thought already with a few of the mothers.  Funny how we can never get playdates these days.

Right, I'm off and if a man in black with an earpiece  and a minivan comes looking for me, I was never here, ok?






*That would be a first.  Ha ha, Mr B, ha ha.

Under The Weather

Dahlings - anyone? Is here anyone out there?  Jiggle your mice* around if you are!

I have been Under The Weather:  not ill, but tired and lethargic due to all the rain and gloom.  Mr Blighty says that is nonsense but I argued back (masterfully I thought) that "under the weather" must mean precisely that, otherwise why say it?

I have also been involved in a period of intense boy activity  - the usual stuff - tennis, cricket, school exam angst,  jean styling issues - whether to go drainpipe or stay with relaxed fit - and general failure on the part of both Boy 1 and Boy 2 to come to terms with the fact they are not an only child....)

And this morning at 5.30am I dropped Boy 1 off at the school for his epic coach trip to Cornwall for the week.  I think he will enjoy it - he has prepared mentally by watching all the Bourne Identity films so will be able to think on his feet and evade any CIA operatives that might want to "give the asset the green light.." (no, I don't know what that means either).

As a mother I felt rather bereft once the coach left... my friend's son is also on this trip - as soon as she got home, her daughter, with the impeccable timing of a 7 year old, put on the CD of the Titanic music... and explained it was to "calm people who were about to die."  Bless.




Meanwhile, I am seriously thinking I should rename this blog "Duck News" - or maybe "What The Duck!"   During a weekend garden inspection  - I was showing Mr B my droopy peonies - I discovered....
yes, a duck nesting again in the undergrowth. 

Mr B: Is it the same duck?
Mrs B: How the heck am I supposed to know that?
Mr B: Well, you seemed to get on really well together
Mrs B: ??****??%$*?


Has the caddish drake installed a new female in the love nest?  Has word gone out in the duck world that Blighty HQ is the maternity hospital de choix - like the Portland for ducks?

Tune in next time for further Duck News!


Finally you remember my confusion about that pop singer chappy Goatie?  (several  of you kindly explained it is actually Gotye, pronouned Gautier...)

Well Boys 1 and 2 found what I think is a really funny take off of That Song...
(not at all suitable for young boys, I blame the parents I really do).

* Computer mice, not mice mice; this blog in no way advocates the jiggling of mice or other small rodents, this is a cruelty free blog, otherwise Janet would hunt me down and make me drink soy milk...

Summer Washout

After tantalising us with one week of tropical goodness (sunburnt shoulders from coffee date at garden centre, I live on the edge) the weather here has gone completely to pot - cold, rainy, windy....blaaaaah.

The pond has returned to the road, but this time I have to report that Mrs Mallard , single mother, is no longer in residence.  She valiantly sat on her eggs day and night for about 4 weeks, only leaving occasionally to eat out (she spurned my offerings of water and lettuce which is apparently what you should give ducks - I had a lovely chat with the Protection of Birds lady).  I had cardboard boxes ready to transport Mama Duck and chicks to local pond.   A bit like having your bag ready for the hospital.

Then one morning Ma and the eggs were gone - they appeared to have hatched - so I guess she marched them off in the early hours herself.  I really hope they got there safely.  Mama Duck had plenty of time to observe my skills at getting Boys 1 and 2 out of the door, so probably decided she had better get on with it herself, without letting an amateur in troop movements intervene. Wise old bird.

I do miss her, I got used to peeking at her every time I left and returned to the house.  Should I be worried that my most important emotional attachment recently was to a duck? Don't answer that.

Here's video of a duck rescue.

In other news, before I went to Paris (did I mention I went to Paris?) I had a little scoot round the old Happy Valleys Shoppe Centre .

Silk dress by  French Connection, made me feel cold just looking at it

French Connection

Brrrrr, not warm enough for these

Loved the navy sequined jumper - Whistles

Whistles

Hobbs - loved this on the mannequin

NW3 - younger sister brand of Hobbs

NW3

 Snuck into changing rooms to play dress up. Noooo,  I look like a deckchair

Hobbs

NW3

NW3

All about NW3 here.  I liked these dresses but with the navy one priced at £99 I resisted temptation, back in the day you could get that sort of look at TopShop for a lot less, of course now Toppers has gone all micro mini and frilly...
Anyway, enough of dresses, the only sensible attire right now is raincoat and wellies..and possibly waders for visiting ducks..

Keeping The Dream Alive

Dahlings, did I mention I have just been to Paris?  Oh well, Paris now seems like a distant memory but I am trying to keep the romance alive...

Brain-washed by over-consumption of beauty blogs, I brought back some French pharmacy items (Me and Gwyneth, soulmates).

Avene skin cream, La Roche Posay sun lotions and the Bioderma make up remover that everyone raves about, except Mr B who had to lug the suitcase with it in

However, it is hard to keep the romance alive when you discover from the English section of the product literature  that the Avene Cilcalfate, lotion assechante, reparatrice (how lovely does that sound?) is meant for "Oozing skin irritations" - how typically Anglo-Saxon! So now apparently I have weeping sores. Nice.

Nuxe lip stuff, sets off my weeping sores a treat

I have also started reading this book.

 I got very excited when it mentioned the flagship store of  L'Artisan Parfumeur across the street from the Louvre - I clocked this the other day when in Paris - dahlings, did I mention I have just been to Paris? -  and Mr B had to keep a close eye on me otherwise I would have bunked off the cultural programme and hotfooted in there.

I put the book aside for a moment to gloat over my own Artisan P perfume - Rose des Indes...
But the smug glow of ownership did not last long - at that moment I noticed (after 2 years of liberal application to my person) that in fact it is "Parfum d'Ambiance" - Room Spray.

People like me really shouldn't be allowed out on their own.

Other members of the Blighty family have also been doing their utmost to keep the whole Paris experience alive: imagine my joy when I discover that while in Paris (did I mention I have just been to Paris?)Boy 2 has been wearing the same pair of socks for at least a day, a night (in bed)  and another day...... mmmmm, Eau de Trainers Chauds  And possibly "oozing".  Where's my room spray?


P.S. Grandma Whacker emailed to point out I had got my French wrong in my last post - it should be "puis-je" not "peux-je".  I tried blaming this on Boy 2 but he wearily explained that he said " Est-ce que je peux aller aux toilettes Madame s'sil vous plait?" - it's chanted as a singsong rhyme at breakneck speed by the boys as they leg it to the loos mid-lesson - their get out of jail card, so the only bit of French they take note of!!!! So thank you Grandma, now you have Mrs Merkel on Line 2, something about the Euro...needs your advice...

Blighty in Paris

Dahlings, I've just had a mini break  in Paris with Mr B and the boys.

Here's a list of things our trip did not involve:
Hermes
Chanel
Cartier
Louis Vuitton
Rue Cambon
Place Vendome

Here are some of the things it did offer us:
cranes
grumpy waiters
graveyards
strictly regulated grass
some famous painting or other
cakes
architecture

Cimetiere de Montparnasse

Louvre with cranes

Spot of rain in Montmartre

Jardins de Luxembourg - pelouse interdite

Jardins de Luxembourg - pelouse autorisee

Pompy Poo Centre (as referred to by Boys 1 and 2)

Mrs B carries out impromptu nit check at top of L'Arc de Triomphe

Mr B goes all arty with the camera

It was great fun, we had a lot of laughs - some at my expense after I dragged everyone to the Telegraphe metro station as I had read on the internet there were great views from there.  We arrive - yes, we are high up, views no, as we are surrounded by buildings.  I imagine some geeks from MIT caught us on their net cam  - "yay, Eric, we got some more losers who fell for the old Telegraph Metro joke.."

And the whole trip was not in vain either from an educational point of view - once we got home, Boy 2 modestly ventured that he could actually speak some French - and rattled off,
"Peux-je aller aux toilettes, s'il vous plait Madame?"
My bosom swelleth, as they say.