Well, the official invitation to the Palace Garden Party arrived this morning. This means my ol' mucker and me have passed the official checks and scrutiny!
We shall await the Invitation Proper from the Palace "in 6 - 4 weeks time", according to the letter...
Honestly, the Civil Service Departments have gone down the pan since I left! Sheesh!
What else has happened. Ummm... I seem to be procrastinating about how much work I have to do on my course over the next three weeks... I've conducted or officiated at a number of weddings, and observed a wonderfully sweet Civil Partnership... My kitchen and utility room are more or less finished, but not the flooring, blinds or decor just yet... We've had GJ's successful and intimate 50th Birthday celebration.
...And, Grizzler has turned 20 - Yikes! Where did that time go?!
I haven't heard back from Alnwick Garden yet, which may indicate that my enjoyable assessment day there has not been a fruitful one, work-wise... Tant pis.
In other news, I met up with a wonderful dear friend, Elle, for morning coffee last Sunday. I was trying to persuade her to turn some of the fabulous stories she has told us for years into a blog. She is the funniest woman I think I know, and beautiful to boot. I love her to bits, ever since we first met when I moved back to this northern region from the Highlands of Scotland in the year Grizz was born. That means we've known each other 20 years. Amazing. She hasn't changed a bit.
Through and outside of therapy, I've been reflecting on how our lives take the paths that they do. For without being pushed from my nested job within government by that cuckoo, David Cameron, and his poodle Master Clegg, I would not have my lovely little job in counselling, albeit as yet unpaid.
Without the trauma therein, I would not be witnessing and celebrating weddings which are such joyous occasions for me, albeit stressful; Without having to move with my husband's job back from the Highlands, I would never have met Elle, or possibly even Sara of THIS blog and this wonderful PHOTO...
My life would not be as rich without them and other valuable friends in it, such as Karina, who makes me laugh on FaceSlapBook and whose bags are to die for... Recently, she's been channelling her inner patriot to make some beautiful things in celebration of the Queen's Golden Jubilee Year, using vintage scarves and ephemera. Stunning.
And, not to forget, other bloggy friends here and abroad, that goes without saying...
Elle took her own decision to depart from government a year before I did. She then fell into a number of little jobs to keep her going, but has been sorely let down by a less-than-honest employer. She now finds herself in the place I was in several months ago. Trying to find what it is she wants to do at this stage in her life... I feel for her; It's an odd, and somewhat scary position for anyone to find themselves in...
Finding who you are.
Do we ever stop, do you think? Looking out for that little girl, who wants to hold on to those balloons, but doesn't want to take her feet off the ground?
p.s. I don't deliberately intend to miss things out of my blog which have international reverberations, like developments in world news or the tragic death of WH, with whom I share my birth year. I was personally saddened by her loss, although I did not know her, nor was I a particular fan of her music but I know she did touch hearts with her voice.
Perhaps that's all that any of us need, to love and be loved and to touch hearts?
As much as I love you dearly, please recall that I am entitled by European law to some time off from time to time...de temps en temps as they say en France.
It is to this end that, horreur de horreurs, I shall not be scheduling any postings during my petit absence.
For I am also giving my lovely readers and fiends here a little time off too.
Because they're worth it!
They've done loads lately to bolster me when I was feeling bleu, (which encompasses a lot of the year, really...)
Their recent kindnesses to me after I wrote while I wept a well of tears about deeds I have procrastinated over and the loves that leave their mark in grieving, I shall not forget...
My time in Frankfurt gave me some moments of pleasure to recount here:
1. Hurried, but friendly conversations with German ladies d'un certain age like me, getting easily lost about the city as we made poor attempts to read crappy maps!
2. Being asked directions by German people three times in the same day on the last day of my trip - by which time I knew the city quite well and felt more confident about my German and found myself quite able to point out the way!
3. Seeing the ferret on a lead, and another in a knapsack. Similarly, finding an ueber-friendly black cat, who responded to my calling to him in English, while he stalked mean-looking pigeons in front of the Anglo-Irish pub in the touristy streets of Sachsenhausen.
4. Being chatted up by octogenarian gentlemen in a park, who might have been Turkish.
5. Almost being mugged on the Kaiserstrasse, by a guy who tried to harangue us (non-aggressively) first in German (we both look very German!) and then in English. Only in Frankfurt could you be accosted by a man of the road who is also a keen linguist!
6. Having the numberous blisters on my feet finally heal, after I had walked a formerly comfortable pair of black gladiator-style sandals from the streets of Frankfurt straight into the hotel's waste-bin.
7.
Finding a friendly pub, or Stube, around the corner from the hotel, where we were adopted by the regulars and enjoyed glasses of wheat beer that cooled our tongues nicely while my feet recovered from their daily pounding. The elderly gentlemen who frequented said establishment also took to calling me "Young woman...," as I passed through! See 4.
8. Having to complain to hotel staff about the late-night noise coming from the party they held on the outside terrace for 400 of their business customers on their grand re-opening - Even with all windows and doors shut, we could not get to sleep on the fourth floor of the place. While they assured us it would stop at some point, they could not guarantee when. As I suggested to them that this was a hotel and not a night-club, they invited us to give up trying to sleep and join them instead!
Eventually, it seemed the music was halted, perhaps by another disgruntled guest, who had found the electricity cable to the terrace and had hid it, or so we heard the next day!
9. Walking through the city's wonderful Palmengarten, enjoying the tropical plants and their heady smells while observing belligerent ducks trying to tip well-behaved youths from rowing boats on the ornamental lake!
10.
Reading this novel by Elizabeth Speller over two days. It seemed wholly redolent for me of the atmosphere of World War One. I can recommend it.
I am firmly of the belief that we waste our time looking for full-time and eternal happiness in life. All that exists (at least for me) are moments of fleeting, but wonderful contentment and unbridled pleasure...
I found some of those in Frankfurt over these past ten days.
My husband is talking about us moving there over the next year or so, as it'll be easier for him to patrol his international business areas from that hub and airport.
We'll see...
I am still welded to the county where I was born, although I will make my home anywhere and have indeed done so...
I love Europe and have always felt more European than English. My family and I pass for Germans in the street, with our blond hair and pale complexions. My German is still passable, although it improves when I spend any time in the country.
In Frankfurt, I didn't find one neighbourhood that I couldn't have enjoyed living in, if we could afford it.
Costs in Frankfurt appear at least 20% dearer than in the UK at present. Frankfurt is also one of the three cities with the highest cost of living in Germany... Perhaps it's the exchange rate and all the difficulties countries are having with the Euro, but life there would certainly cost us more than in the UK at present...
Above all these considerations, I know I'd miss our son most.
Poetry from Sandy Denny's "Who knows where the time goes...":
"Across the evening sky all the birds are leaving
Oh but then you know it was time for them to go
By the winter fire I will still be dreaming
I do not count the time
For who knows where the time goes
Who knows where the time goes
Sad deserted shore your fickle friends are leaving
Oh but then you know it was time for them to go
But I will still be here I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time
For who knows where the time goes
Who knows where the time goes
I know I’m not alone while my love is near me
I know that it’s all until it’s time to go
All the storms in winter and the birds in spring again
I do not count the time
For who knows where the time goes
Who knows where the time goes
Who knows where the time goes
Who knows where the time goes"
Something I have never shared is my dark family secret. I rarely speak about my love for my late parents. I loved them. They loved me, unconditionally. I have a lot of shit still to work through about losing them... I'm an only child, an adult orphan. Maybe losing both our parents gets us like that?
My Mutti died around 13 years ago. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. She wasn't even 60. My dad left this earth 4 years ago, I think. I was a bit of a wreck when he died. I think it was four years ago this month. Four or three. Three, I think. ...It wasn't wholly unexpected. He had a vicious prostate cancer which had moved into his bones. But he was pretty fit and healthy in his early seventies, fitting a new kitchen in his home, until the week before he went into hospital, when he visibly greyed and aged before my eyes.
I was shocked, and then there was a horrific decline and zombie-like limbo time spent visiting the hospital, sitting in its harsh white lights, holding his cold, cold hand, listening to his watery oxygen streaming, and trying to make some sense of his morphine-induced gibberish.
Waiting for those bright, rare, moments of lucidity, when he was my magnificent, all-seeing, all-conquering dad again.
I have still to scatter his ashes where we scattered those of Mutti, whom he called Biddy. Biddy was never her name. She was Joan Crawford. She was as mean, moody and magnificent. Her ceremony took place on the island of Lindisfarne. It still waits for him.
...And this week, while I was feeling ill with a head-cold and allergic rhinitis, probably after doing too much for several weeks, the past reared up to meet me once again. The telephone rang, and the past bit me when I least expected it.
One of the most blissful moments of my recent holiday was spent here at Marken in the Netherlands, with my fuchsia-manicured, glistening toesies dabbling in the waters of the IJsselmeer...
Seated beside my darling son, who also had his long, bare feet troubling the waters, and with dappled sunlight winking on the gently lapping waves of what was once an island in the sea.
Marken in its time was a bustling village of fisher-folk and tradesmen, before the Powers That Be made the coastal location no longer, by draining waters and building polders, all for honest, economic reasons.
Marken makes its mark and captures your heart with its soul, its light and its beauty...
Thing is. Time was... Things pass. All must change. The beauty of life for me is captured in such moments. Fleeting.
Blink and you miss them.
Happiness to my mind does not stay long in the corners and recesses of our lives, waiting to be drawn upon, sucked in on a dying breath. Neither is it something you can rely on, rest your laurels upon, set any store by...
I believe you must grab it by the handful, and see it for what it is. Brief treasure.
Please gather it where you can.
p.s. Please double click through to the bigger picture, if Blogger cuts it off in its prime...
It will give you pause for wonder this morning, mes bloggy Speculaas (spiced biscuits!)
Juliet Stevenson - Actor - See blog later this week for more details...
And thank you to those of you who have offered me feedback about my writing - I am very grateful for your thoughts, and I shall endeavour to keep things shorter in future, perhaps with less piccies!
Today, my blog contains a few images of some of my favourite women, strong and creative souls, to mark International Women's Day earlier this week.
I also want to acknowledge the woman who married my mate on Saturday! She has my sincere admiration for what she has achieved in life, as well as on their very important day... Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro being only one of Mad's achievements!
Annie Lennox
Back To The Future: The Wedding: Guests at the wedding were served prawns as horse's doovers, or little Mushroom Cheesecakes for the veggies... A few of us toyed with the cheesecake, concurring that it was a little like cold, thickened Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup on a biscuit - Alas, an acquired taste...
This was followed by lovely, heart-warming Roast Beef & Yorkshire Pud, or Salmon, with a cheese and ceps Strudel for the veg-inclined, with baby swedes and carrots - Delish! By this point, I was stuffed, but pud for all was a sublimely piquant Lemon Cheesecake, on the very bases that survived the mushroom starter! Dessert was scoffed wholeheartedly...
(Isadora Duncan...) As our place settings, Mads had spent most of her daylight hours, it appeared, hand-painting charming little glass tea-light holders, in shades of vibrant violet to match her dress, scripting our names in gold filigree.
Sarah Bernhardt
These are wonderful souvenirs of the day, with the date of their joining-of-hands also inscribed... I had to nick a hotel napkin to ensure GJ's and mine would reach home in one piece... I have explained to you before how accident prone I am, haven't I?! Please don't call for the handcuffs just yet!
The Wedding Invitations came as hand-lettered scrolls in cleverly-crafted boxes... Ingenious! There were five little favours for the guests*** - Cute boxes holding 5 heart-shaped chocolates in purple foil... For the evening, tables were resplendent in purple voile, scattered with shiny purple confetti hearts and matching fabric petals, tethered cream and violet balloons, a little magenta sheath of fizzing firework sparklers, some bubbles to blow over the gathered throng, and glass bowls full of mini packets of Love Hearts sweeties! Have they made it over the pond? Sugary sweet confections with loved-up messages like Marry Me, on them?
La Billie...
Emily Wilding Davison
At this point, I had found two chairs to sort of collapse in, what I thought to be, a rather interesting pose, given that my back was finally telling me - Enough for one day! I spoke to some colleagues from my office, which I am dodging at the mo'... They told me that morale there is in deep decline, and everyone is being shoe-horned in to increasingly smaller spaces, with one chap cracking under the strain recently, and throwing his computer keyboard at a window...
Marie Stopes
I managed to cope with what the day had brought... For GJ, who was very keen to go to the wedding, to enjoy something positive and uplifting, he had the chance to chat with Phil and to watch Phil's and his Guitar Hero, Paul Rose, play like an angel to the gathered Chatterati, and for Fhina there was the chance for a colourful airing, (...for I have rarely slipped from the house since November!), to see friends happy and looking forward to a wonderful start in life...
I enjoyed meeting new people so beloved of my friends; And the opportunity to muse on the cords that bind us, the things that link us back to the same people over and again... Considering those we choose to spend our lives with - Friends, sometimes soulmates, and having some insight into how to mend hearts, to see our own skittering reflections and memories reflected there...
***Five Favours: A short history and meaning of wedding favours
The custom of giving wedding favours dates back to early European history when they were given to celebrate marriages, birthdays and christenings by wealthy aristocrats.
Favours symbolise the bride's acknowledgment of each friend and relative who shares her special day. A beautiful thank you and keepsake.
Traditionally, the bride wraps 5 sugared almonds either in the form of delicate lace nets or elegantly designed boxes. These symbolise the following 5 wishes:
Health, Wealth, Happiness, Long Life and Fertility.
Hello mes Bloggy Chums! I have been absent without leave for a few days, being distracted by the shiny, on and off - I can't resist the lure of the golden Tippy Tappy, and running around your blogspaces like a woman possessed, as I prepared for, and recovered from, the weekend wedding that was...
More in a mo', and more will follow tomoz, for I think my blog is getting too long for some folk to digest de temps en temps... Let me know your thoughts, please?
(I must be really honest, I am being driven to distraction by two things today - One is that my lovely neighbour appears to be decorating his living room with only drawing pins as highlights (tin tacks), from the intermittent light tapping and scraping that is going on next door.
I can hear this through our shared chimbley wall; Two, that in my usual trawl about t'Internet in search of photies, I spent ages looking at one collection alone - A young girl obviously from the images, and she had the same name as my home town... Perusing her pics, most of them portrayed the usual teenage angst type of thing - Not belonging, romancing death, some emo stuff, and loads of shots of anorexic-fashioned girls... This upset me... I know I cannot do anything at all about it, and I understand it does go on, but it troubles me this fetishizing of anorexia... Goddessing of the obscenely thin... Shots of exposed shoulders, sunken cheekbones, hollow eyes, long lank hair, bones, bones, bones... and it upset me.)
Moving on from sadness I cannot control, because I must...
Please can you check out over there on the sidebar that, if you want to follow my blog, you are actually there amidst my beloved followers? I think the recent changes in Gaggle and Blagger have meant that we might have lost some of the connections we once had made, and I would love it if you would come back to me... YOU ARE MY TOUCHSTONES... mes amis.
I noticed when visiting some blogspaces over the weekend, that a few people I was following no longer had my little icon there as a follower, so unless they wanted to delete me (which might have been the case, but I doubt it for they still talk to me!), Blagger had lost our connection to the ethereal winds! I have now re-connected, and I am inviting you to do the same, but only if you would like to, mes dahlinks... I shan't send the boys around if you do not!
Today, I'd love to bring your attention to this wonderful bloggero, Derrick @ Melrose Musings Derrick posts practically daily from a beautiful part of Scotland, the Melrose of his title!
Derrick, bless his little cotton socks (shown above!), picked up on a couple of my recent Meme musings, and I was touched to the core of my heart by his own, very personal and wonderful take on my I Am I Said posting... which in turn had been picked up (pilfered/purloined/pinched, you might say), from the lovely Diane over at Diane's Addled Ramblings, who is back from her blogging hiatus, suitably refreshed and restored...
Please go and read Derrick's blog - The essence of me - You might want to take a tissue with you, mes loves, it is beautiful and surpassed mine own, just as Diane's original post did! I am not fit to water the flower boxes in Diane's and Derrick's bloggy spaces, you know - Sniff, sniff...
"I am the only woman who has not been beheaded for leaving the Royal Family" Sarah, Duchess of York.
Where is she going with this, you ask? Did you know that Sarah and I have a history together? No, you say... Well, our paths have crossed deux fois, twice... While a young whipper-snapper living in the Highlands, the then Duchess of York visited the city, and I remember it was a real Winnie the Pooh and The Blustery Day, and the fabric of her pencil skirt suit billowed about her person and her russet locks stirred in the breeze... ~ I always had a soft spot for Sarah, even though I would never describe myself as a royalist, I felt she had a bad press in life, that she had been mis-advised by others, and ultimately elbowed out by a bunch of snooty, overweening, psychophantic courtiers, steeped in the ink of ages...
In fact, Sarah and I were actually married on practically the same day, on which a street party was due to be held in the seaside town where our reception was to be held... I recall standing before a scarifying councillor (local politicians in the UK), having him assure me that, come hell or high water, Fhina's wedding reception would not be disrupted by the planned road closures... And it wasn't derailed, not one iota!
Even when it turned out that some of the wedding guests - Chaotic friends of my husband's family, who had been wrestling with ferrying their small children between the church and the wedding reception two miles away, inadvertently left their tiny, carry-cotted, baby behind with my dad, who turned up at the reception in anot her car (all his life he never had a driving licence, and he was always happy for women to escort him, or he took the bus!), looking puzzled and bemused, but thankfully still with baby boy and carry cot in hand!
In fact, my other claim to fandom fame, for British readers only, who will actually know this TV actor, is that I was married in the same church as actor, and intrepid fisherman, Robson Green!
...But not at the same time obviously - Not for me, unlike Comedy Goddess, a marriage to rock royalty, Jon Bonjovi!
So, Saturday's Wedding! What do you want to know?
The bride, Madeleine, wore a stunning dark purple silk taffeta sleeveless dress with a lace bolero. Her red updo hung in pretty ringlets. The groom, my friend Phil, wore a dark suit, white shirt and matching purple tie... There were no bridesmaids, and the two witnesses were their brothers, respectively...
We were photographed on entering the hotel by the jobbing photographer, a lovely friend of Phil's, David, who apologised for the fact that this was the first wedding he had photographed! At one point in the proceedings, I spotted him outside the hotel, taking photographs in through the open window! Bizarre, but beautiful, non...?
GJ and I felt truly honoured to share their day, for there were less than 40 guests... Phil introduced me to his new brother-in-law as 'my mentor..', which made me blush with love and pride! (Perhaps some of the advice I have given him over the years has stuck somewhere in his psyche?)
We were led into a smaller room, all laid out for the ceremony, and we mingled briefly and were seated, while explosively-popping streamers were passed into clammy hands...
Phil and Madeleine walked down the aisle, holding hands, to the lilt of gently tinkling classical music... His hand brushed mine, nervously, as he sloped down to his first marriage, Mad's second... It had taken a lot to get them to this wonderful conclusion, I mused.
Two women officiated, and I thought - not for the first time - That's where I should be - Up there, a registrar; I would love all that... The pomp, the ceremony, the love, bringing people together at happier moments in their lives...
(I never told you that the week my dad died, and GJ and I had to go and register his passing, the female registrar, perhaps recognising kinfolk, said to me, between my sobs, that with my background, I would make a lovely registrar! I still look out for vacancies from time to time...de temps en temps.)
The deed done, the offer of marriage sealed, Mads and Phil came smiling back up the aisle, Mad's hair replete with popped streamers, gleaming gold like sunshine...
We schmoozed, the air full of fond wishes and celebratory hugs and handshakes...
Seated for lunch on the table occupied by Phil's sister, his two grown-up, gorgeous nieces and one of their fiances, the Photographer, his stunning wife, and the Guitarist and his stunning wife, GJ and I proceeded to have a wonderful time...
You know when you go to weddings, and you perhaps know only the bride, or only the groom, you wonder how you will get on, whether you will mix, or just sit out the day in hushed silence?
We fit together around the table like 10 whirring cogs in a wheel, exchanging jokes and banter, talking about food and life; Phil's friends started at hearing him being called Uncle Philip, it just rang so strange to our ears; Wine was drunk, orange juice was partaken of and toasts were made... It was the best wedding I had ever been to. GJ and I both agreed, we had been made to feel as if we were part of the family...
Much of the closeness that I have grown to feel to Phil over a number of years - I was his boss 12 years ago, and he followed me to our new office, although we work on different teams - We have been through thick and thin together, splits and reconciliations, tormented parenting and family feuds, work stresses and strains and various tensions in our relationships, including bereavements - I felt this closeness again within his family and network of friends... They were stars, all, as are you...
So, watch out for yourselves, I shall conclude demain, and if you are close to teens (particularly girls) please watch out for signs of what has upset me today, mes loves? I beg of you.
Feeling a little more tickety-boo today, (I haven't even taken any painkillers yet, which must be a good thing, non?), I thought I would once again reflect the glamour of the red carpet season, and scatter a few awards, and some more Oscar-isms that I love, to titillate your very senses, mes petits choux! See if you can spot the scattered bons mots of dear Oscar, and tell the difference from mine (Hah!).
I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being.
I love the Oscars - the glamour, the dresses and bling, the pomp and ceremony.
Of course, living on the other side of the world, I am snoring busily in bed when the champagne glasses are first dusted off and then clinked together in celebration, sadly...
One of these days, I would like to be a spectator there on the red carpet, to dress up for the occasion, and just watch people arriving, waving serenely, and negotiating their way towards the awards...
I was very lucky the other day to receive this wonderful award from a new friend, from the world of creative stitchery and blogging, Jan ...
I was staggered, and delighted once again to be amongst such fabulous contemporaries upon whom Jan also bestowed her friends' award. Please go and visit Jan, and then on to these other miscreants I am about to shout out to, please friends? Pretty please, with sugar on?!
"These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these kind writers.
When you pass the award along please include these guidelines.
I am to choose eight friends to share this with." 8 friends, phew! No man is rich enough to buy back his past
Scriptor Senex with his wonderful daily Rambles From My Chair - He may be knee deep in wallpaper and paint just now, and this Oscar will set off his paint spatters wonderfully!
Derrick at Melrose Musings, for his educational glimpses into the history of Melrose and its surrounds, plus wherever else he's been on his travels - He is Blogland's answer to Jerry Hall, the man is so well-travelled and clever!
It is through art, and through art only, that we can realise our perfection.
Lakeviewer - I know she hasn't any awards displayed, but I hope she can still accept this one for its charm and wit? She has a terrific writing style and oodles of life experience and wisdom to amaze and astound.
Suburbia to encourage and support her steps daily.
Adlibby for her beauty and generosity of spirit...
Anne at blognut for her nutty blogginess and rambling wit!
No woman should ever be quite accurate about her age. It looks so calculating.
Joanne at Reasons To Be Cheerful, 1, 2, 3... She hasn't been in the best of circumstances recently following difficult bereavements, and yet has continued to blog like a trooper!
And moving on to our next category. After being a follower and reader of Adlibby, she was generous enough to offer her Fabulous award to all of us - provided that we list our 5 Addictions, then pass the award on to 5 bloggeristas!
Do I know you enough to share those?!
1. Any kind of Lip Salve - Yes, I am addicted, and can go nowhere, nowhere (not even to bed) without a liberal smearing of some kind of perfumed unguent on my pucker!
2. Sleep. I love sleep and naps, and I love my pit of a bed! Snuggling down under the comforting duvet, encased in Egyptian Cotton (if I'm lucky!), down into the arms of dear old Morpheus!
3. Filing my nails! A bit weird, non? I file them probably once a day - I have terrible nails, not beautifully shaped or long, but if there is a jagged edge, I am on edge until it has been smoothed, and sometimes when I am at work, I drift from desk to desk until I find a stray emery board in someone's pen pot that I can sequester. Occasionally, I wear nail polish, probably not as often as I could; I wish that I had lovely hands, rather than the workmanlike spades I have inherited from my dad, including a very peculiar, slightly bent middle finger on my right hand (his was on his left!). Genetics is a very strange science!
To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.
4. I fail to function well in society without the aid of my make-up bag. I have a lovely fuchsia pink leather Osprey number I found at the wonderful TK Maxx - Being at home for several months, I have grown more accustomed to going sans make-up, and have probably saved a fortune, (and scared a few postmen into the bargain!), however, once I am back in polite society again (present company excepted!), I will need to return to my daily, Eleanor Rigby-style, mask!
The public is wonderfully tolerant. It forgives everything except genius.
5. This is harder than I thought - What else am I addicted to - Hopefully not the Codeine! There is chocolate, of course, and ice cream, but I can go without when I am forced to... If someone passes me into a strait jacket, that is!
Scratches head... I shall say, I am addicted to good quality Costume Dramas, for I cannot let one go unwatched, and have a copious selection of DVDs and even some bookmarked to buy on Amazon in time, and so on... There, you have it, I am addicted to (usually dear old Auntie Beeb) BBC Costume Dramas...
The world is a stage, but the play is badly cast.
There is only one thing in life worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.
And so, the fabulous beauties, worthy of wearing the yellow yoke and ever dark and chic sunglasses are:
