The rant.

IMG_4024Well here goes. Why am I writing a blog? No idea. What am I going to write? No idea. Actually, that’s not strictly true. *  I have been pestered for a while now by “dear friend” who shall remain nameless but she knows who she is.  In fact, I  may well be using her as a source of inspiration when my own life seems dull but all in good time…

I had planned to start all this by introducing myself and giving a potted history of my fairly unremarkable life but that would be the logical beginning and of late “logic” seems to have deserted me. So instead, I shall have a small rant.  So good to get things off my chest even if no one will ever read it.  Actually, “dear friend” is duty bound to read ever single word that I write and beg me for more musings or else she will be “ex dear friend”. I can be a little harsh when I choose!  Maybe that’s why Frog (my beloved -more of him another time) sometimes calls me Pol Pot.  I like to think of it as a term of affection but I sometimes glimpse in his eyes a slight look of terror .  It hovers uncertainly for  just a second and in a blink it has gone.

Last night, for example, he spilled some sauce on my new table cloth which, by the way, is giving me immense pleasure this week.  I said nothing, just started to remove the tomato based mark with cold water and applied my special stain removing pen that came from New York many a moon ago.  I am really, really good at stain removals after many years of practice with my two dear but albeit messy children.  They were  incredibly messy when they were young.  Well one is still a bit of a “muck pig” as I used to call him.  I bet his ears are burning now! Actually, now I come to think of it, the other one still has her moments. Only last week when I was visiting her in London, I found my stain removing services were required by both her and her flatmate.  Ah, if only there were money to be made in an international stain removal company!

Goodness, how I am waffling.  I never thought that I would be writing about stains in my first blog. I don’t even have time for my rant.  I need to shower.  It’s 4.00pm and I am lying on top of the bed in a beach kaftan.  It’s too hot for the beach but I can pretend.  I haven’t even set foot  out of doors yet as I have been so caught up in the the reason for my rant. Again not totally true.* I did open the door and cross the threshold when the Amazon delivery man came.  I was very pleased to be in my kaftan rather than my nightie although there is really not that much difference between them.  All he would have noticed was a wild haired, unmade up ,middle-aged woman.  Actually, he probably noticed nothing at all.  Anyway to the shower to transform myself into a chic ,wild haired, middle-aged woman.  A quick dash to the shops, prepare  another delicious supper that may well end up on my tablecloth et voilà. When Frog finally gets home tonight he will never imagine just how lazy I have been.  SSShhh not a word….


*Am I turning into a fibber as well as a dictatorial, waffling ranter?