It's 5pm Twinkle Time!

 

 

Mitzi's Muff

I also won this glass cat, many years ago on the Celebrity Eclipse.

I received an email last week from the Postcode lottery congratulating me on winning a prize. Oh joy of joys, confetti and streamers erupted in my mind, my euphoria soon turned to despair when I discovered it wasn't a life changing amount of cash at all but an actual gift, the sort you see in a seaside bingo parlour, I clicked the button inviting me to browse their selection of prizes, there was a lot to choose from including L'occitane products, 'sea socks' whatever they are, headphones for drowning out the maid's goings-on, hairdryers, the list was endless I pondered my options and after careful consideration I opted for a rechargeable, cordless, hot water bottle RRP £14.99. 

Carry on Cruising

Another boring day at sea with nothing to do.

Stop the boat I want to get off! Yes, that's Benidorm you see in the distance, most ot it anyway, I was too excited to wait for the full vista. I'm enjoying the cruise but I'd be much happier if they dropped me off here for a couple of weeks. 

My first taste of Tia Maria I wasnt sure what mixer you had with it, if any, so I drank it neat with ice. Yes that is a lager the maid is drinking "Reg Varney had one of those in Holiday on the Buses".

   

This is how the folk of Cartagena like to entertain themselves. 

More carry on cruising to come.

 

After losing 17 lbs with a little help from saxender, my maid of all work Carmen, felt confident enough to pose for this lovely photograph.

Greetings From Benidorm

 

Dr Who at 90!

 

For Your Viewing Pleasure

Found on the back of a public toilet door in Beverley (the one next to the florist). I hate having to use a public toilet, but needs must when the devil drives. I only popped in to spend a penny. There was a wiry old man in there blatantly masturbating at the urinal and without shame I clutched my imaginary pearls in horror and fled to the cubicle and locked the door and was greeted with this. 

Click to enlarge

 

Home and a Weymouth

See the table occupied by a man and a woman on the right, they're participating in a savage eating challenge!

When breaking in a new cafe or a restaurant I like to carry out a ritual, I whip my phone out and pretend I'm taking a photo of the scenery or if there isn't a view to admire I'll take a snap of my maid, my real focus is on the nearby tables, zooming in on peoples plates to see what the food looks like and to see if anyone is holding their knife like a pen so I can give them a disapproving look. Carmen calls me a culinary voyeur, my mother used to call me a nosy bastard. 

Here I am sitting demurly, looking out to sea, pondering life's questions such as: Why don't we eat sea gulls? What would happen if a cow isn't milked and why do hotel kettles take ages to boil? And other thought provoking questions that pop up randomly inside my head.

 

Mitzi, where are you? I hear your cries of distress, I'm here, taking in the delights of Stratford-upon-Avon. Not to be confused with Stratford in London (you only make that mistake once).

Just look at that derelict house, set in aspic, probably for the American and Japanese tourists to gawp at. I say knock it down and build an Aldi or a much needed Home Bargains, much more suitable for a busy shopping street in my opinion.

Birthday Greetings Carmen

It's Carmen's birthday today,  I can't remember if she said she was 56 or 86 anyway, she was thrilled when I gave her a card with a £5 Pep&Co gift voucher inside, she said she's going to 'spend spend spend' like Viv Nichols, whoever she is.

 

Carmen's Log

In the hallowed halls of Mitzi's opulent manor, I, Carmen, the lowliest of maids, toiled tirelessly, my heart heavy with disdain and my tongue sharp as vinegar. For a mere 50p an hour, I scrubbed floors, dusted chandeliers, and endured the insufferable airs of my mistress.

'Carmen, my dear,' Mitzi would drawl, her voice like a sultry summer breeze, 'be so good as to attend to my needs.'

As I fussed over her toilette, my lips would curl into a wicked leer. I yearned to spill her precious bathwater all over her silly lapdog. But alas, my station demanded that I maintain a veneer of servitude.

One fateful evening, as I polished Mam's silver candlesticks, I heard a faint rustling beneath her bed. Curiosity got the better of me, and I cautiously peered beneath the silken canopy. To my astonishment, there lay a small, velvet box, it's contents winking at me in the candlelight.

Driven by an irresistible urge, I reached for the box and opened it. Inside nestled amidst the finest jewels, was a magnificent emerald necklace, it's stones glinting like a thousand tiny stars. A wicked grin spread across my face.

For the next few days, I wore the necklace beneath my maid's uniform, my heart pounding with a mixture of thrill and trepidation. Mitzi, oblivious to her loss, continued  to summon me with her languid commands.

'Carmen, my ring has gone missing. Find it at once!'

'Yes, Mam,' I replied, my voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

As I searched her dressing room, I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. The necklace was nestled beneath her pearl tiara, hidden in plain sight. With a swift movement, I snatched it and slipped it into my pocket.

This was my revenge. I had stolen from the wealthy and arrogant Mitzi, teaching her a lesson in humility. And as I watched her frustration grow with each passing hour, a wicked sense of satisfaction washed over me.

From that day forward, Carmen the once down-trodden maid, became Carmen the cunning thief. The emerald necklace became the symbol of my triumph over adversity, a constant reminder of the day I got my own back against the upper classes.

The Gift of Tat

It's Pat and Roz's big day they are getting married. These beautiful, elegant, rotating, wind-up musical lesbians would look exquisite in any parlour and a bargain at only £8 each. Roz plays the lesbian classic Love and Affection by Joan Armatrading and Pat plays Hedonism by Skunk Anansie.

Mitzi's top tip, when visited those types of establishments it's useful to have  a pencil with a rubber end in your back pocket or if you're common behind your ear, that way you can rub out the original price and add your own.

A jilted woman's bridal gown is another woman's cut price dream wedding dress.

For Mr DeVice. A Fanny Full of Flowers (back right, wearing a coolie) is the work of unrenowned artist Humphrey Bunion, hand crafted in finest salt dough, adds a touch of elegance to any home.

Cat tat for Mr Peenee and Dinah

For Jon to remind him of home. Too Good To Be Forgotten... I wonder what Amazulu are up to nowadays.

Tat for scarlet and Mago.

More tat for Scarlet as requested. Baskets can be silent or creaky, personally I like a creaky one. Here's a collection of fine looking baskets ideal for an alfresco nosh in the park or for traipsing a mile and a half into a Devonshire village each morning with a shopping basket placed in the crook of your arm, telling everyone you pass that you shop local to keep the high street alive.

Carmen's collection of tat, she inherited from dead relatives, housed in the downstairs toilet.

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For MJ not one of mine, but the thought was there.

All photographs were taken by Carmen who knows better than to question me, sadly she couldn't take a photograph of the swinging egg chair for MJ because there was a child swinging wildly in it, whilst the pandering parents stood about laughing in an affected manner, I was hoping it would come off it's hook, crash landing into the crockery opposite.

For Your Viewing Pleasure

I was on the way to Skirlaugh Garden and Antiques Centre with the maid, to look for old tat for Scarlet, when the tyre pressure warning light on the dashboard came on. I had a slow puncture. In the garage waiting room, I was greeted with this.

Both were on their mobile phone the whole time and didn't take a blind bit of notice of me and my feminine wiles.

Boo to a goose. Inside No 9.

Pan-Yan

No, that's not Carmen you see nursing a cup of coffee, but you would be forgiven for thinking it was.

The maid and I visited Castleford on Friday as part of our coarse and common tour 2024*, we couldn't leave without sampling the delights of this indoor market cafe. We have used this cafe before and was served by the same red tabarded old lady, the one with the oversized dentures, gleaming inside a small wizened mouth, Carmen ordered a bacon sandwich and I ordered a cheese salad sandwich (no cucumber) and then the waitress asked me if I wanted any... wait for it... Pan-Yan in it! What's Pan-Yan I asked, her mouth puckered like a cat's arse, in an expression of incredulity, Carmen butted in saying it's pickle like Branston only lighter in colour and that started a conversation about bleeding Pan-Yan. I wish they would stop talking so I can scoff at the stall opposite, selling artificial flowers. 

The product was discontinued in 2000.

You might be wondering what's inside the plastic bag on the chair, I shall tell you, hand patted and rolled butter priced £3, a small wedge of cheese £4.50 and a quarter of Lion's Midget Gems £1.50 and half a dozen breadcakes £2.50, in future, I shall get my wares from Waitrose, it's cheaper! 

Does the sign on the wall makes sense?
 

*We like to visit towns and cities considered to be undesirable, last year we took in the sights of Hull, Grimsby, Bury and Goole, to name but a few. We also visited Bradford but I refused to get out of the car, don't ask.

Dorodango

Dorodango is the Japanese art of making shiny balls using the soil out of your garden, the perfect birthday gift to give to your maid of all work or to a blind person.