Comforting the Disturbed

 

For all you Culture Vultures out there, a little something to tide you over until Mago returns. Quentin Smirhes rendition of Erik Satie's Gnossienne No.1. Get ready to be entranced.

Random Shit For Your Viewing Pleasure

Kitsch queen of the 1950s Vladimir Tretchikoff The Green Lady I'm using it as wallpaper on my new iphone.  

An 80s stocking filler, pen with a built in digital clock, remember them? They were the height of sophistication back then, the novelty soon wore off and I swapped mine for 10 cigs and a Mars bar.

Poor man's asparagus. Shop bought samphire, rooted in salt water in a crocus vase, sadly Waitrose was all out of Samphire so I had to made do with Tesco's finest. Makes an attractive house plant, best suited for coastal gardens, but give it the right growing conditions and it can thrive inland. I like to place a length of it on the roof my mouth and using my tongue to crush it against my palate for a spurt of salty goodness.

Memoirs

As you know I'm not one for idle gossip, tittle tattling and tongue wagging, however, since I'm on my second glass of Malbec, Jam Shed, regular price £8.25, Tesco Clubcard price £7 I can feel my facial lips, loosening. Did I tell you about the time my older sister Jezabel, brought shame on the Flange escutcheon, dragging our family name through the mud by running off with a fairground roustabout called Smiggy, she was 18 and he was 22 with greasy blonde hair, he worked the waltzers spinning the cars, "Scream if you want to go faster" said the man in the booth over the tannoy, my sister screamed, in a way that cats do when they're in heat bringing Smiggy to heel, he spun our car I can still see his tattooed hand and silver buckle ring gripping the rim of our car as he spun us, the ride eventually stopped and we got off, my sister started clacking her chewing gum, looking over her shoulder coquettishly at Smiggy as we left. Jezabel! She ran off with him when the fair ended, she rang home a week later in tears, begging my mother to pick her up from a travellers camp site near Tyne and Wear, mother was appalled, and I was straight on the phone to report my findings to Grandma who was equally appalled.

You will be pleased to know that I am now covid free, it was nothing really, just felt like a mild cold with hot flushes, light headedness and the occasional gasping for breath everytime I exerted myself.

I'm not keen on the change of lyrics, it's not necessary, it's the look of sheer joy on The Wild Tonics faces that makes this video. 

  

 

Interesting read.
I'm often asked to write my memoirs, but where do I start? Miss Flange's School Days?

Back Soon!

I'm setting off on a cruise tomorrow, I think we have free internet access for being elite passengers, so if I see anything untoward I can let you know about it. 

 

Flash

I am more determined than ever to own a dog, when I get settled in my new house, but what sort of dog do have you in mind, I hear you ask? I've always had a soft spot for English bull terriers the sort no-nonsense hairdo, Princess Anne favours. When I was a child my Grandma's neighbour underwent knee surgery, he asked Grandma (I used to call her Grand ma-maa if I was feeling extra theatrical.) if I'd be interested in doing a little job of taking Flash his white bull terrier for a daily walk while 'Mr' recovers from his operation. I was as keen as mustard. I'd seen Flash before but only from a distance so imagine my surprise when I knocked on his door and was greeted with something that looked very similar to this.  

Photograph courtesy of the internet

Flash despite his appearance had a lovely nature, very friendly and placid, however, he  had a tendency to pull on his lead, I was a thin and wiry 10 year old I had to use both hands to control him, then I had an idea, I was going to put Flash to work. Back at my Grandma's house I would slip out of my clunky Clarks Polyveldts (my sister's cast-offs) and into a pair of roller boots, I would glide the streets and parks like Queen Boudicca in her canine drawn chariot laughing manically and yet slightly regal. I was once thrown out of a childrens' playground and was called a menace by the Parky. 

Today I heard Carmen talking excitedly to someone on the phone, she thinks I'm interested in French Bulldogs, talk about Chinese whispers, she's going to get a shock when I show her a picture of Flash II. 

The Log Whisperer

I've been on a quest to find myself a new hobby. I'm not into jigsaw puzzles, a friend of mine offered to teach me to knit, seriously! I'm far too young and vibrant to do such a thing, can you imagine? My next door neighbour was having work done to her garden, in the mid bleak winter because it's cheaper, when they had finished they'd left a thick branch in my garden, I was about to hurl it through my neighbours window when I heard the echoes of my inner voice reminding me I need a hobby, and then it hit me, whittling. I wonder if I could make something beautiful from it, an ornament or a bowl perhaps for the maid's birthday, with the help of a Youtube video I whittled a spoon sat in the garden, I felt like budget Barbara Hepworth, minus the headscarf. I was in my element.

                                                                            

                                                                      Here it is.

Well, at least it's spoon shaped and those splodges are my blood stains, after an hour, my whittling skills improved and the spoon began to take shape I also learnt if you cut against the grain, you get splinters that pierces the skin and I stabbed myself with the knife a few times too, nothing superglue can't fix. Sadly I gouged a bit too deep into the bowl of the spoon and came out the other side and ruined it.

 

Christmas Day Washout

I should have stayed at home... I should have stayed at home. That was the mantra going through my my mind on Christmas day (I hear what you're saying... moaning cow!). I should have known better when the maid suggested going away for Christmas and New Year to escape from "the rabble", instead I'm marooned here with the very definition of it. The weather has been crap, Christmas day was spent in the hotel room, couldn't go out, not without an umbrella. I ended up watching spanish television, So, My Grandma's A Lesbian with English subtitles (yes, that is an actual film) and Vera dubbed in Spanish. I couldn't watch the English channels as the bad weather kept interfering with the signal, it kept pixellating and losing sound. The maid is online, booking flights home, there's no way I'm staying here for a month. 

Hope you had a better Christmas.

The Forgotten Attic

Sifting through my search posts I noticed I had rather a lot of drafts, half finished, half arsed, unpublished posts, that never made the cut, 44 of them to be exact, here's just 4 of them.

                                                         Exclusive Yarns.

A drama set in a wool shop in Tumbridge Wells, with Maureen Lipman, Lesley Joseph, Patricia Hodge and Sue Devaney. It's camper than Hilda Bracket's pisspot.

Portrait of a scrubber by Miss Flange

I don't know who she is, she has been pending since April 2022 no story attached just the picture, you'll be relieved to know it's not a self portrait.  

Buying Christmas presents elderly relatives can be a challenge, it doesn't matter what you get them they always end up saving it 'for best' and it ends up in a cupboard forgotten.

Old people love to knit covers for things, I had a little pouch Great Aunt Alice had knitted for the TV remote control, she also knitted a cover for the toaster in serge green, so with that in mind what old person wouldn't love this exquisite toilet and cistern cover, edged with a delicate lace trim, it will remind them of Christmas day every time they dump.

A video from the 1960s. The Honeycombs Have I The Right.

The Great Christmas Cake Heist

I applaud Waitrose for using the word Christmas in their packaging.

 
I was in Waitrose at the weekend gliding through the aisles with gay abandon, the maid was at home waiting in for a delivery, which was a good thing, I didn't want her breathing down my neck, tutting at the price of champagne. I stopped at a display of Christmas cakes I found one I liked the look of, it was small and unfussy but as I reached out to take it, another hand was quicker, that hand belonged to a no-nonsense type of woman, she was wearing a trilby hat and a green wax jacket, she probably has a career managing farmhands, because it was the last of that cake I asked a passing menial* if she had another in the back, she took something out of her pocket and began to type and then apologised for not having any more in until Monday.  

As I rounded the corner, I saw her again, the trilby woman deliberating over a selection of cheeses at the deli counter, her trolley left unattended besides the artisan breads and there inside the trolley was the cake, it didn't look anything special on the shelf but seeing it in that woman's trolley it took on a rosy glow, I had to have it, a quick furtive glance in her direction and the cake and I hot-footed it to the tills, chuckling all the way.

I was told via text message by a know-it-all friend of mine, that you don't cut Christmas cake like that, but he didn't explain why. To be honest I couldn't care less.

*Because Waitrose is considered to be a better class supermarket I call the shop assistants who work there menials, it keeps them grounded and stops them from getting ideas above their station.

For Your Festive Viewing Pleasure

I'll be back later on in the week to tell you what I did on Sunday in Waitrose (oh the shame).

Hotel Chic

Hotel Subur Sitges with it's  exuberant passion for raffia mat wall hangings. We usually stay at The Plaja D'or, not this time, it was fully booked as was the Calipolis, the Subur was the only available hotel. We took the risk and booked it.

 Thinking of decorating? Looking for home decor ideas? For inspiration look no further than the exquisite interior of  the Surbur Hotel in Sitges that offers an insight into the lives of Bill Sykes and Nancy. We took it in turns to sit in that chair, it was the only place in the room that picked up the internet.

Room with a view, I didn't mind slumming it for a few days until the new upgraded room became available.

After 4 days we were able to move to a sea view room. Only 2 raffia mats in this room, goes together well with the tropical bamboo mirror frames, bed for communal fu sleeping.

Close up view of that wall mounted mat from the old room.

On loan from the Pompidou in Paris.

Nothing riles me more than seeing dried flower arrangements in hotel rooms, absolutely fine in your own home if you're that way inclined, but what purpose do they serve,  other than taking up valuable table space. where am I supposed to recharge my ipad with that clunky thing in the way.

This is the breakfast room of the 3* Subur hotel in Sitges, this is what I had to endure for the past 14 days, here I would sit and gaze wistfully at the ceiling in a pose of a Pre-Raphaelite muse, The Lady of Shallot.

The hotel's party line, oh the things you hear through the bathroom air vents, makes me blush just thinking about it.

 

What do you do with your old raffia table mats, make an interesting wall feature of them of course. 

Nice views with a wrap around balcony.

Raffia pineapple 

From hotel chic to Satin Chic

Current Location

 

For Your Viewing Pleasure

  

Don't you just love a street brawl? 

Yes, that is a young Janice from Benidorm.

How Northern, but can you still eat the chips?

Taking the Strain

Take any bog standard yoghurt, the cheaper the better and turn it into a thick luxury Greek yoghurt that could rival Fage (pronounced fa-yeh if you're that way inclined), I used Lancashire Farm I paid £1.15 for 1kg from Herons.

I chose the fat free one deliberately, knowing it'll be like piss.

Take a muslin cloth or if you're cheap like me, use a double layer dish cloth, clean of course straight out of it's packet and place it inside a sieve, tip the yoghurt into the cloth lined sieve and rest it on a bowl large enough to allow the yoghurt to drain and then just leave it in the fridge over night.

In the morning you'll have yoghurt precum! Doesn't it look vile? It looks yellow in the photograph but it was green, proves that the cows are grass fed.

 

The end result, so thick you can cut it with a knife. 

As Plain as a Digestive Biscuit

My morning cup of tea went missing this morning, it's true. Yorkshire tea, precisely three minutes seeped, gone! I hunted high and low for it, with no joy I even convinced myself that the house is haunted, a ghost with a penchant for tea, the thieving spectral bastard. I thought to myself what would the late Clodagh Rodgers have done in a situation like this then I remembered a poem about Saint Anthony, the patron saint of lost things. Something's lost and can't be found please St Anthony look around, still no joy. I had a dental appointment to attend, I left the maid at home mowing the grass, after my check up I decided to do a bit of shopping on the high street and then I popped into a cafe for a toasted tea-cake and a diet coke.

I love people watching, it didn't take me long to scan the room and focus my beady eye on someone, a big lass with a bow in her hair, 

See the man in the distance, when she upped and left, he kept giving me the glad eye! Time to leave!

I didn't see what she looked like from the front until she got up to pay, I was expecting her to have a septum piercing or a tattooed neck, something to give her an edgy look, but there was nothing, she wore a blue pleated skirt to match the bow in her hair, white socks and a pair of plain black court shoes, as she walked past my table a little acid reflux crept into my throat causing a burning sensation. I blamed the diet coke. I've seen make-up free women before, of course, so I wasn't totally catatonic with shock when I saw her face, however, seeing someone so ordinary, a genuine plain Jane unsettled me somewhat. I'm sad to say it but looking like that, she is destined to be a spinster. After finishing my tea-cake and looking round to see who else I could inwardly slag off I received a message from Carmen with an attached picture, she had found my cup of tea!