Brass Monkey weather

Eee by gum but it was fair freezin’ today in Sussex.
I loved it.
The old man and me took the doglet round the houses.
By round the houses I mean, down the road, past half a dozen properties and lots of sycamore trees, no cars though. They closed us down a few years back because Mr. Somerset used to get people driving into his front room, by 1999 six cars had parked on his living room carpet.
Hang a right at the end and suddenly you swing onto a wider than normal path, big enough for a tractor, follow it to the end and you’re at the farm.
Lots of people think it looks like France, the earth, the yellow stone of the cottages and the view. I think it looks like Sussex.
Fields to the left of you and hedges to the right. Past the nursery steps, a wonderful flight of stone stairs that took the servants up to the big house and down again with their baskets of washing.
Left down the avenue where a score of Beech trees stand opposite each other. My tree is the fourth on the right. My pink pearlised lipstick kissing-mark in tact today.
Right through the old style into the Outdoor Pursuit Centre, past Elm and Lime trees.
Past the team building groups. They climb over head on rope walkways hung between the trees, shouting at each other and learning how to build a team!
Down past the big ski slope.
All year, but definitely at this time of year, folk learn how to ski on the bristly matting. The ski chairs clank continuously as they go round and round.

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Itchy Feet

Thank you for blogging.
I hope some of you heard me reading you out on LBC tonight.
Thank you for calling in.
I actually had a conversation with Chrissie from Carcassone about Toulouse sausages and her preferred method of eating and cooking..
I hope she’s having a safe journey back to England.
She’s in the middle of a three day drive.
And Yes Rob we only had one measly bottle of bubbly at the God parent party because everyone was either cleansing, detoxing, fasting, driving, declaring liver damage or just plain boring. It’s pathetic, just you wait until Christmas, if I have to I will drag in a passing stranger or down at least 17 bottles of Bollie on me own.
One bottle, I know its a disgrace to us bon viveurs.
Now interaction for this week is simple.

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Godparent party

1 mountain of mashed potatoes with celeriac, garlic, butter and cream. + 1 sea of sausages, pork, venison and lamb. + 1 ocean of onions cooked in butter and cream. + 1 prodigious pile of peas in butter. + 1 bottle of champagne. + 7 people, 1 baby a cat and a dog. + 1 … Read more

Chippolata Party

I ran, I walked, I conkered. I booked a flight to New York for B. I shopped for sausages. I ordered my turkey. I had coffee with my Homeopath. I made an unctious lamb stew with harrisa paste, one bottle of Rioja, turnips, swede, banana shallots, 6 plum tomatoes, 2 skinny aubergines, one whole head … Read more

back dated news

I ran, I walked, I conkered. I booked a flight to New York for B. I shopped for sausages. I orderd my turkey. I had coffee with my Homeopath. I made an unctious lamb stew with harrisa paste, one bottle of Rioja, turnips, swede, banana shallots, 6 plum tomatoes, 2 skinny aubergines, one whole head … Read more

Pictures Perfect.

I spent all day organising my office. I can now see my desk. I took a bus into town, a posse of school boys got on, they made so much noise but they made me laugh. Their conversation went from Sunday School to soccer. I went to a screening of THE DIVING BELL AND THE … Read more

From bad to verse.

Eighteen ducks sitting on the wall.
Sitting in a line, then one gave a call.
Eighteen ducks flying off the wall.
All in a line, one and all.
Two fat crows sitting on the wall.
Eating biscuits, paper and all.
Two fat crows sitting on the wall.
One flew off when the other gave a call.
Twelve plump seagulls pecking on a wall.
Screeching and hollering one and all.
Two plump seagulls flew off the wall.
The other ten stood and watched them fall.
Six llittle sparrows standing on the wall.
Along came I and frightened them all.
Six little sparrows hiding on the wall
Along came I and ran past them all.
Nine scruffy pigeons sitting on the wall.
A-cooing and a-cahing one and all.
Nine scruffy pigeons scrapping on the wall.
They all joined in the pigeon brawl.
One lonely goose looking at the wall.
Floating on the river like a big rubber ball.
Along came the gander paddling and all.
Two happy geese swimming by the wall.

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Tempit Figit

I took my seat in the Tipper Chair, a big blue bib was secured round my neck and whoosh I was up-ended.
The protective glasses were placed over my eyes, the curing light switched on then Mr. W. probed my open mouth with his sharp instrument.
A bloke on the radio was asking questions, I was unable to answer as Mr. W. had his hand in my mouth.
Why is it that all dentists choose Radio 2?
Any dentists out there please elucidate me.
Mr.W. took two impressions, one of my top row and the second of my bottom.
Not my bottom bottom but my lower jaw.
My mouth was wide open for as long as it took for the squashy blue stuff to dry and for Jeremy Vine to complete an interview and put on another piece of music.
Have you noticed that when its imperative to keep the mouth open wide there is always a neurotic need to talk or swallow?
If you’re mouth is open whilst you’re reading this please don’t feel the need to answer back.
I could feel the back of my throat opening and closing as it was dealing with a build up of saliva, I was anxious that it was interfering with the process and giving the wrong impression.
Mr. W. studied the ‘trays’ and said they were okay.
The gum shields were pulled out slowly, for a split second it felt like every last tooth was being dragged out with it
I was recommended to have my teeth bleached. It’s not my style, I don’t like the idea of the ‘gel’, the cost or the effect of blindingly white teeth but Mr. W said that I would benefit from the treatment as I was getting a little long in the tooth. I shall get my ‘trays’ back next week, then I will be given the ‘gel’ and will monitor my own brightness.
I have to be careful I don’t end up looking like Simon Cowell
Mr. W. then squeezed Tempit into the lower left 5. A mouthful of meusli had broken a bit off my filling.
I think fillings and tooth caps are like light bulbs. When one goes they all go.
The Tibetans believe that when a parent dies a tooth dies in sympathy, in my case its not to do with a parent, I lost a back tooth when I left Auntie BeeB now, having left Uncle UKtv, I’m having trouble with my other back tooth.
Mr. W. stepped on the lever and the chair was set in motion, I sat up, took off the bib rinsed my mouth with green minty mouthwash and spat it out into the silver tube.
Job done.
I am going back next Wednesday to collect me trays and have a nice session with the hygenist.
I must be the only person in the world who likes having her teeth sandpapered.
I think its lying on my back, unable to figit, my mouth open, but out of action.
Nobody can talk to me or me to them.

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2’s company 3’s a treat

On Sunday I pootled around the flat until it was time to go to LBC.
The show was all about Fussy eating kids, winter risottos, soups and fireworks.
Some callers called, texters texted and Glen e-mailed me from Hamburg.
Annabel Karmel brought in delicious home made white chocolate and cranberry cookies, which we devoured on air. Donna Hay flew in from Australia, Johnny Acton flew in from elsewhere, and Andy Hubble called in from a golf course somewhere in the South of England to talk fireworks and health and safety.
By the time I had traversed London, hit the M25, zoomed down the A21 and forked off towards Lewes – where they take great delight in burning effigies every year – the evening had set in.
I stopped off for a saveloy and chips and a large hunk of cod for the old man.
With the cornet of chips balanced in my lap, I consumed the soggy mass for the final six miles, my little car ended up smelling like a chippy, but when I arrived home I was full to the brim and ready to collapse.
Which is exactly what I did.
Jim arrived home late from filming, B arrived home late from Brighton where she’d been celebrating my eldest step daughters 37th birthday.
The three of us watched a whole pile of recorded programmes and then fell into bed late.

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Sausage Tails

The time as come to make this blog more interactive, so here goes.
I took some of my family out to eat. Lunch in a pub. We all had different versions of sausage and mash.
This morning on Radio 4’s ‘Start the Week, with Fi Glover – who by the way is a terrific broadcaster and I choose my words carefully – Daisy Goodwin was flogging her new book and talking about poetry. Daisy has people send in poems to her website, at the end of the week she chooses the best one.
Well I don’t know anything about poems but I know a good sausage when I see it so this week I’m announcing:

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