Sunday, 19 September 2010

Sconeless Sunday

Well. No Sunday scone for me today. Sadly. The twatting Great North Run meant a journey to Newcastle was impossible. When I had my first date with Senor Boldon (Rochester's brother) he attempted to woo me with tales of his unbridled virility - how he'd triumphed at Great North Run the previous year.

'Aye, it's tremendous feeling. Have you ever done it?'

I was rather astonished that question even crossed his mind. I am not exactly the athletic type. My exercise is limited to genteel dog-walking and pilates so sedate and sedentary that I have been known to fall asleep during it. Plus, I don't exactly have a physique that lends itself to running. I told Aunty Margaret of S.B.'s query. Aunty Margaret is known for her straight talking. The very thought of me doing the Great North Run had her cackling hysterically, so much so that she dislodged her false teeth in the process.

'Oh Elizabeth. You, doing the Great North Run!!!! The very thought! He was obviously just being polite.'

Charming. I am sure I could do the GNR, with enough practice, a good bra and the right amount of motivation. I am sure it is not physically impossible. Maybe with a bit of hypnosis and some positive visualisation. If I pictured some swarthy Don Draper look-a-like waiting for me at the finishing line, a buttered cheese scone in his hand.

I noted with interest that Geordie double-act Ant and Dec rang the bell to start the race today. What a great choice. I mean that most sincerely. An inspired choice. One look at Twit and Twat and even I would run like the clappers. Dear God. Let's get ready to stumble.

Rochester Update.

I have indeed heard from the rogue. It was not good news. I don't quite know how to share this with you all, but he is indeed getting a personalised number plate for his BMW fanny wagon. (Sadly, he has not opted for my suggestion of Peg King 69.) Even worse, in emails now he does not even just refer to 'my car' he feels the need to mention ‘my BMW 5 Series M Sport’ How crass. I am not impressed by such things. I never refer to 'my 2005 silver and rust colored Ford Focus Zetec' Soon he will inevitably start dropping into conversations how much the krautmobile cost. To think, the oaf used to work in the voluntary sector, hosting workshops for transgender immigrant lesbian otters. He used to drive a 15 year old turquoise Nissan Almera with a mouse-trap in the footwell. (People always assume I make-up the bit about the mouse-trap, but I swear on my Bobbi Brown lipstick collection, it is totally true). Tragically, Rochester appears to be slowly morphing into a sort of Geordie Alan B’Stard.

Rochester has always had a deep fascination with lesbians. He outed my best friend, Madam Noir, as a lezza long before she ever came out of the closet to me. Rochester is to lesbians what pigs are to truffles. He has a nose for them. He was married to a lesbian once, you see. He appears to be currently obsessed with his next door neighbour's wife and her relationship with a female friend. He has even warned his neighbour that he suspects sapphic shenanigans are going on behind his back.

'I did tell him a couple of months ago and he was having none of it .......'they're just good's a kind of sister thing' he said. Bollocks. He's gone to a friend's house in London tonight and her car is still outside. I think I'll take a glass tumbler to the wall.'

See, utterly obsessed!

Other than that I have little to report. I see QVC has been running a beauty day. Oh, it's been L'Occitane, Bobbi Brown and OPI all day. Such temptation. I am still as poor as a church-mouse. In fact, McFireman took pity on me this week and kindly bought me the new Grinderman CD. It's pretty intense and scary stuff. (The CD, I mean, not McFireman showing a kind side).

I did get my payslip yesterday. We teachers move up a salary scale every September. I had calculated this increase would give me an extra £200 per month. Hmmm. I got my sums wrong. A measly £120. Darn it. There is Rochester bragging about watching Match of the Day with a bottle of champagne - when all he does is sell pegs all day, and me, educating the offspring of hoodlum gangsters and drug-addled dolehounds, still unable to afford to have my broken window fixed. Life is unfair.

My weekend.

  • Reading the wonderful new Chanel biography by Justine Picardie.
  • Brewing a few jars of crab apple and chili jelly. It is powerful stuff, I think I got the ratio of apples to chilies wrong. Still pretty good though, especially on toast with some cream cheese.
  • Watching a lot of Miss Marple.
  • Lusting over these:
Lola Rose Darcy long necklace (£85)
Bobbi Brown couture eye palette, £175. Yes indeed, you read that correctly, £175.

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