Oh, My Days!

  Here we are again, then. That happy day when I goad you all into a frenzy of anticipation about the arrival tomorrow of the first episode (thrilling) of The Much Malarkey Manor Christmas Story 2022. I’ve been working especially hard this year (ahahahaha!) to bring you a festive tale, which, as per usual, I shall regret starting, somewhere around 13th/14th December. This will cause me much psychological suffering….yes, suffering…don’t laugh… and for three or four days I’ll stomp around my writing room in a fit of piqued artistic frenzy and angst, gnashing my teeth and wailing and trying to write myself out of a probably VERY sticky corner, after which it will all settle down and I coast home to Christmas Eve, job done! Same old, same old.  This year, because of the global fiscal chaos, rocketing prices, everybody going on strike and all that, I’ve had to rein in my usually extravagant production budget, and the cast has been trimmed accordingly. Here, then, is the cast list f...

  Saturday morning. I went to feed the rabbits. A massive hole had been dug under the protective wire mesh buried in the ground next to their home. Fox attack. Sidney, although physically unharmed, had died of fright and was lying on his side in the run. No sign of Edith. Gone. Just bits of her fur scattered around the fox-dug hole and across the garden.  It was horrible. Sudden and horrible. I can’t bear to think how frightened they must have been. I feel so sad. Sidney has been buried next to Flora. We gathered up Edith’s bits of fur and buried that, too.  Andy has taken down their rabbit palace. The big panels will be used to extend the fruit cage. I expect we’ll find a use for their hutch. Perhaps I could turn it into something to display pretty plants.  We can’t offer them a safe space here, so no more rabbits for us.  I’m so sorry, Edith and Sidney. You charmed and delighted me in the short time you were here. Bless both your little bunny souls. 

 Seriously, I think I ought to collate a collection of shopping stories. Why do odd things happen when I am in shops? Am I a shopping angst magnet? Or am I merely hyper vigilant and notice these things more acutely than other people? Or are people just angrier than they used to be. Hmmmm…. Anyway, I made a trip into town today, mostly to collect a print I’d taken into a framing shop a couple of weeks ago. The print was a birthday gift. Here it is, all done up in its lovely blue frame and white mountings:  I’ve been wandering around the house trying to decide where to hang it. Ideally, it will go in my study/ writing room but that means I’ll have to redecorate first and really, I’m not in the mood for painting and wallpapering at the moment.  Back to the shops. After collecting the picture and enjoying a lovely chat with the couple who own the framing shop, I popped into B & M to stock up on bird food because it’s the cheapest (!) place to buy it. The cost of sunflower...

 Bambino and I have been ‘home alone’ for the last three days as His Lordship Malarkey has been a-gallivanting in London attending the London Vet Show. It counts towards his annual CPD requirements and means he gets to go to sleep in dark lecture halls whilst pretending to listen to ‘interesting’ lectures, and avail himself of the endless breakfast buffet in whichever hotel he stays in. It’s all jolly good larks!  I’ve been keeping busy with Tarot research, tidying out various drawers and cupboards, writing the MMM Christmas Story (which took a very shocking turn yesterday, enough to make me gasp in horror and I’m writing the thing!), sweeping up more chuffing leaves, and then yesterday evening Heather and I went to see this… It wasn’t as good as ‘Mrs Harris Goes to Paris’ mostly because it lacked somewhat on the glittery posh frock front, but it was good nonetheless. Unfortunately,  I suffered minor irritation in the form of the man who sat next to me who thought it was ...

 How many council workers does it take to move a pile of leaves? According to what I witnessed yesterday, it takes four. Two armed with leaf blowers, one to stand next to a small truck and the other to watch.  Honestly, what exactly is the point of a leaf blower? Is it this? Because I am (trying to be) environmentally friendly and am also delicate to loud noises, I do not have a leaf blower. I have a leaf rake. One of those that looks like an inadequate, triangular-headed broom. It’s effective in that it does what it should, which is rake up leaves. It is powered by my arms, it doesn’t make any noises beyond a gentle ‘swish’ and the occasional ‘thwang!’ if it hits a rogue rock, apple or abandoned trowel. I wish it would hit a rogue idiot bantam, but sadly they are all still in strong contention for the world record of ‘Longest Living Bantams EVER.’ After I have raked up the leaves (which I am doing now at least once every other day) I pile them into the wheelbarrow and take th...

 Here is a cat. A very woolly cat. Basking in the mid-November sun on a velvet sofa. It’s a hard life. When he, Bambino Bobble Wilson, arrived chez nous, he was a spindly little spider of a kitten, who in no way hinted he was going to EXPLODE into the massive dollop of wool ‘n’ fluffiness that he has. We thought (fools that we were) that he would be a bog-standard domestic short-haired cat, black of colour (the most unpopular of cat colours, apparently, but suits me down to the ground, witch that I am), and sort of sleek and self-cleaning on the grooming front.  What has transpired, in fact, is that Bambino is a long haired cat, with immensely thick woolly undercoat. He has a lion’s mane ruff. Massive, velvet paws with tufty inbetween toeses. He has a tail that is soooo thick it is hard to discern the presence of any tail bones. He isn’t wholly black, either. In certain lights, his fur is bluey-black - and burgundy and auburn and various shades of grey. However, he is VERY bla...

There’s an advert, currently on the BBC, which has me yelling at the TV every time it appears. Fortunately, I don’t see it very often. I am too busy doing other more important things these days than watching television. These things include:  1) raking up leaves. And more leaves. Then extra leaves. Etc.  2) tidying up the veg garden and drying seeds for next year. I even uncovered a couple of late arrival courgettes. The vegetable that keeps on giving!  3) weeding weeds that shouldn’t be appearing until next year but are going great growing guns upwards, on account of the extremely mild weather we are currently experiencing. Buttercups are being especially virulent. 4) cleaning windows. I know. Thrilling. 5) whipping the plot of the Much Malarkey Manor Christmas 2022 story into a frenzy of festive excitement 6) continuing with Tarot training because customers are forming a bit of a queue 7) wrapping Christmas presents. Yup, all done and ready to go. I know. Go on. Hate me...

 I was in a bit of a grump when I surfaced into the World this morning. I know why and I know what I need to do to ungrump myself. It was a grump brought on by the petty dramas of others, petty dramas in which I am steadfastly refusing to participate because I am weary with it all. It won’t last long, though, this bit of a grump - just need to do a spot of psychological and spiritual clearing which will most likely take the form of tea, biscuits and watching a couple of re-runs episodes of ‘Ghosts’ later this afternoon. Or ‘The Producers’ (the Nathan Lane/ Matthew Broderick/ Uma Thurman/ Will Ferrell musical one) which ALWAYS lifts my spirits every time. It’s like food for my soul, that musical.  Anyway, my original plan for today had been to crack on with Draft the First of the Much Malarkey Manor Christmas Story 2022. I am currently up to Day 8. It’s a bit ‘loose cannon’ this year as I have gone rogue with the plot. However, because of my current ‘temporary grump mode’ I dec...

 Went to see this a couple of days ago… Admittedly, a bit of escapist nonsense BUT given how much realist nonsense is occurring in the world these days, I’ll take the escapist route every time, thank you very much. It was a good film. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It’s about an ordinary woman who finds her dream and sets about achieving it through sheer hard work and focused determination, all the while riding the ups and downs that Life throws at her. She helps people along the way by being cheerful, selfless, honest and straight talking. There should be more of this in the world. And in the end she gets her posh frock, and the posh frock is the beginning of the rest of her life. Marvellous!  Next week, I am off to see ‘The Lost King.’ I’ve been to the cinema more times in the past three months than I have in the past three years, and that is because Heather is a cinema buff and is determined to make me her cinema buddy! It helps that there is a small independent cinema in town, a...

My extremities, they feel the chill Always have done, always will. Frozen fingers, frozen toeses.  And, so too, my little nose is.  Thankfully, then, one of the presents I received for my recent birthday was these… Adorable, sheepskin slippers. They are solid, fluffy, bouncy and deep red in colour. They make me feel like a Christmas elf when I wear them. For the last three days, my toeses have been warm, my feet rosie pink instead of ink-blotch blue. I should have bought a pair 57 years ago.  Today is the first day in ages that my face has felt cold. Today, then, is the day we have capitulated and activated the central heating. Until now we’ve been layering up with jumpers, tights (not Andy), thick socks, our massive fleece hoodies and blankets because heating means bills and bills are going up, up and up. Especially when you are an oil-heating household and have to prop up the likes of oil producers like B.P and Shell, poor things with their barely-there meagre profits. ...

When one is the wife of an artist, one is fortunate enough to be blessed with some pretty darn good birthday cards. His Lordship Malarkey and I started making cards for each other a few years back - his to me are lino cut prints, watercolours, ink drawings or computer art, and mine to him are collaged, sewn or knitted.  Andy surpassed himself with the card he presented me with yesterday. It’s in its own frame and is a representation of all the items mentioned in the song ‘You’re the Tops!’ by Cole Porter and John McGlinn because, says Andy, that is what I am. The tops. Not the Louvre Museum. Not Napoleon brandy. Nor the tens of other things mentioned in the song which are waaaaay too numerous to mention here. Just ‘the tops.’  (The Birthday Girl blushes prettily and giggles behind her fan. Awwww…shucks!)  It’s this style of art that I think Andy particularly excels at - the taking of a theme and using often funny and always entertaining detailed drawings composed into an ...

 I know how entertained some of you are by the aggravation that I seem to attract when I visit supermarkets, so here is another little gem to cheer you up: As I was in town the other day I thought I’d nip into Morrison’s as I needed to pick up a couple of gift card and Morrison’s was the nearest stockist. Whilst there, I popped a few other bits in my basket, including the DVD of ‘Encanto’ which I haven’t yet seen and I am curious as to why they don’t talk about Bruno.  Small basket of goods in hand, then, I headed towards a staffed checkout. Usually, I would go to the self-service checkouts because I don’t mind using them and they have the added advantage of enabling me to avoid crabby checkout assistants. Morrison checkout staff need to take a leaf out of Aldi’s book. Aldi checkout staff are invariably cheerful and that is why I mostly shop there now. That, and the cheaper prices.  Anyway, I was happy to stand in a very small queue because of the activating of the gift c...