About Me

My photo
Book out now on amazon! Buy, read, enjoy, tell your friends, buy a spare copy.

Monday, 26 November 2007


I went Christmas shopping last night. Thought I'd knock a few off the list in this months pay packet. Some people have some very strange gifts as I was anxious to make use of the 3 for 2's in Marks and Spencers. However I couldn't buy three things that I actually wanted: an advent candle (now I've disconnected my smoke alarms it's fires a go go), an advent calendar with some form of link to Christianity (although obviously still filled with chocolate, nothing says Peace on earth like breaking open a wise man's face to get to some second rate chocolate) and some Christmas cards that were vaguely religious but not vile. So many Christmas cards that sell themselves as portraying "the real meaning of Christmas" are horrific and you would never give them to people for fear of them being physically sick on you at the sight of such hideousness. All I'm looking for is something Christian yet enjoyable. Jesus in a santa hat maybe, Mary pulling a cracker with Herod or something.

Occasionally I think I would like to be a Nun. A proper one in black and white, not a plain clothed one in a grey cardy. It looks like a very peaceful way of life and would mean I actually had a valid reason for being constantly single. Of course it would be difficult as I am not a Catholic. I was raised a Methodist, so perhaps I could be a nun that sings stirring Weslian songs, and I now go to a Church of England church – for the main reason that it's next door to my house – I am praising the Lord by reducing my carbon footprint.

Of course the kind of nun I would like to be would be one that sings a lot and eventually marries Christopher Plummer. I wouldn't bother with the children, especially not the two rather disturbing boys. But I am willing to learn traditional Austrian folk dances and if needs be even sing Eildleweiss. I do think it would be rather nice to live life in a musical, bursting in to song whenever it takes your fancy. And if I wore a nuns habit I wouldn't have to do my hair and all that running around mountains would kick start the keep fit routine so I am ready for Christopher Plummer. I would draw the line at having nuns at my wedding to Christopher though. I have enough self confidence issues without a load of them standing there singing "How do you solve a Problem like Laura" at me whilst I trot down the ailse. Vicious old cows.

But I can't really be bothered to create my own protestant order of nuns. Although I have the hair (and let's face it the beard) I am no Henry VIII and simple don't have the time to action a schism with Rome, or in this case London? Or Canterbury? It would also involve a minor act of treason as I turn against the Queen and being beheaded would set back my plans considerably – although I would become the first martyr of Lauranism. What I need is a good second who is prepared to be slaughtered for the cause and then I can step in and establish my order. I shall get busy designing the uniform.

Wednesday, 7 November 2007


I went to many fireworks displays over the weekend. Including one terrifying one put on by my dad in my brother's garden. Which resulted in 4 very scared children. Luckily the adults among us had learnt from our childhood so had elected to stay indoors, lest there be a repeat of dad dropping a lit match in to the box of fireworks or not properly nailing the Catherine wheel to the fence. Both spectacular displays but I missed them whilst I was running for my life. The organised one I went to, however, was excellent. Made all the more enjoyable by not having to worry about someone popping back to check the lit firework.

I felt I had dressed appropriately for the display. Jeans, jumper, coat, hat but on the way out I saw someone in high heeled boots, mini skirt and a boob tube. Was I fearfully underdressed or was she a slapper? I made this comment to my brother and rather than the amusing bitchy conversation I had anticipated got told that I couldn't comment as I used to go to the Supermarket in my pyjamas. This sadly is true, but in my defence my pyjamas were men's pyjama trousers and a black t-shirt. It's not like I was leaping around in a skimpy negligee giving people heart attacks by the nectarines. Also it was the strangest supermarket in the world.

Many years have passed and it's 12,000 miles away so I have no problems in outing this supermarket as being Woolworths in Neutral Bay, Sydney. It was there that I saw 2 men, dressed only in towels, doing their weekly shop. It was also the local supermarket for a woman who used to do everything on roller blades, you'd see her in the city desperately clinging on to lamp-posts or trying to keep her balance as her legs got a way from her. It was a bit like watching that episode of Some Mother's Do 'Ave 'Em. What was really strange was that she was dressed like Lara Croft. A skimpy pair of cycling shorts, a crop top, knee and elbow pads and her hair all tied up, pitching head first in to freezers as she attempted to do her shopping on wheels.

I was forced to shop there however. Not only because it was opposite my house and very convenient but because I was either in self imposed exile from other shops on that road or I was physically banned from other shops on that road. A major stumble in the other main supermarket meant that workers there waved at me when I went in and I could live without that. Plus their food was so manky it had normally rotted by the time you got it home. And I'm not allowed in Blockbuster anymore ever since I ACCIDENTALLY told the woman in there to er f*** off. Actually I was quite polite about it. My exact words were "F*** you lady." Either way, I felt it best not to return to that particular video rental store. I'm not sure why I chose to develop tourettes at that particular moment (although she was being really annoying) but I felt it wise never to return.

Which sadly meant that my flatmate Steve was in charge of getting videos out. His favourite type of film seemed to involve animals in combat. I watched "Brotherhood of the Wolf" and "Dog Soldiers". Well I say watch, I actually made rude comments and read a book. On one occasion he came in and said "I've got us a film. Badger Paratroopers (or something similar). Now I know what you're thinking…. It's in French. But don't worry it's got subtitles". Believe me of all the things I was thinking it wasn't that.

However, it is now Wednesday and Fireworks are still going on. And they seem to start about 3-30. Why is this? Surely the point is that it is dark. Or perhaps there's some hip new style I don't know about. Perhaps its badgers attempting to get revenge for their Oscar snub.