CAN I JUST STOP YOU .....

You’ve dropped the kids at school , your housework for the week is done , what shall I do you think to yourself , what can I get up to in this couple of hours exclusive to me.

So you decide to venture out for a bit of retail therapy.

You’ve planned exactly where you want to go, what you want to do and intend to enjoy your day at a pace that’s leisurely, calm and solely about you.

And as you start the day you hope that this will be how it continues but you know you have to keep your wits about you because they’re everywhere, watching, waiting, preparing for that moment you let your guard down and then they’ll be on to you, going for the kill.

Out of the shadows they swarm, pen, clipboard or leaflet in hand, you know they’re just trying to do their job but if you’re just trying to get from one place to another without too much interruption it can start to get a bit annoying .

Can I stop you my love, who’s your energy provider, can I interest you in this, that or the other?

The list of open questions with which to catch you and reel you in is endless as they pursue you with almost stalkerish zeal down the shopping mall or precinct.

It becomes a massive game of cat and mouse as they try to entice you into their trap and make you surrender those all important bank details and a signature in exchange for your freedom.

A simple polite no thank you will normally suffice in most cases if they start to get too near but there’s always that one who thinks they can make your business their business if only you’d answer their question on why you’re not interested.

And there’s really only one way to deal with this situation, if they fail to pick up on the massive hint you’re dropping by sprinting towards the nearest exit, stop off at that other stall as they follow you in hot pursuit and say “no I haven’t had an accident yet but if you wait a moment there might be one along in a minute “.

 

MAYBE ONE DAY CANCER WILL JUST BE MY STAR SIGN NOT A KILLER DISEASE

Trainers laced up tightly, check.

Number pinned securely to your chest, affirmative captain.

Pink Dame Edna style glasses in place, flowery crown looking splendid, yes most definitely.

Specially dyed vintage long line girdle worn over your t-shirt and leggings looking like a rose tinted superhero, all present and correct.

C’mon then girl this is it, you’re all suited and booted and cancer best prepare to take on the wrath of over a thousand women , for today’s the day Rochester turns pink as it hosts the race for life  and guess who’s in the running to give cancer a jolly good kick up the bits .

Well I say running but since we’ve just done a warm up and I’m already knackered I think we know that’s not going to be happening so I make my way over to the blue jogging section with the rest of my clique.

 We wait overlooking Boley hill then a klaxon blows heartily and it’s off down the high street we go in a river of pink t shirts, tutus, feather boas and deely boppers.

Trainers pad slowly and steadily on the pavement , the jogging idea has already proved a tad over optimistic to keep going and as the heat emanating from my calves threatens to light any nearby barbeques I switch to my much preferred pedestrian mode of brisk walking.

And as I stroll along I take time to read the labels everyone has on their backs beholding their reasons for putting themselves regardless of fitness level through 5k on a lovely summer’s morning.

It’s for mothers, fathers, grandparents, friends, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters and other loved ones.

Those who’ve been taken from them, those who have beaten their illness and those who are fighting still.

Every person here in all their pinkest finery is doing this because they’ve been affected in some way by this disease that doesn’t care who you are or what life you still have to live yet.

So as I creak past the finishing line some 50 minutes after I started, I’m quite proud of myself for doing it despite not being the next Usain Bolt and being desperately in need of some new feet.

For every little helps no matter how fast ,slow ,sparkly or sporty it is ,in the fight to hope that one day cancer will only be my star sign not a killer disease.

with service like this who needs enemies

When I think about the time I waste in my life I’m pretty sure a huge amount of it is spent trying to pick up prescriptions from our local pharmacy.

On more than one occasion, I’ve turned up to collect one only to be told that nothing under that name was delivered  from the village surgery whereby a wild goose chase ensues in a bid to locate the elusive list of medical needs.

On others it has been mislaid although there’s definitely a record of it arriving and I’m left standing for ages as the blame is passed from pillar to post before they even think about sorting the error out for me.

So to hear “ oh yes it’s definitely here , it’ll be ready for you this afternoon “ about the latest one 24 hours previous to picking it up was really quite amazing .

However I should’ve known better than to be lulled into a false sense of security as 24 hours later I ended up waiting 15 minutes for medication that hadn’t been bagged up let alone put on the collection shelf yet.

With service like this I suppose it’s lucky none of us suffers from anything life threatening really!

JUST CALL ME JULIE ANGUISHED

I do like to try and keep my writing fresh and avoid repeating the same old things but as I walk round the areas where I live and grew up I’m quite ashamed some days of just how badly we treat it.

 And it’s for this reason that I find myself drawn back to a couple of my favourite subjects quite frequently.

“You’re completely obsessed with dog poo and litter” my other half was heard to remark recently after I’d had yet another hissy fit over the state of our streets so I would imagine if I were to lecture you on it sternly again it might become a little bit boring.

Therefore instead of getting rant lyrical with you, I’ve decided on a different approach this week.

So please, come sit down upon the ground and for your delight I’ll sing....

 (Julie Andrews, Rodgers and Hammerstein, fans of the sound of music you may want to cover your ears now, there’s a reason the songwriter of the family is my brother and not me)

1) Red bull can in rose bush,

Crisp packet in ribbons,

Pie wrapper discarded, pop bottle that glistens.

Dog poo bag tied tightly, then slung in a tree.

Just some of the things that infuriate me.

*twirls madly in the dress she’s run up from some curtains, narrowly avoids breaking her neck after skidding in a huge pile of dog mess outside the doctors surgery *

2) Cream coated man walks a large fluffy poodle,

Uses walking stick as a golf club to get rid of its do-do,

Scratch cards are dumped roadside because of no win,

Despite a lotto ticket trail leading straight to a bin.

*runs across grassy playing field at the park, has to stop to pick chewing gum and dog ends off of her shoes *

3) Takeaway boxes with red ketchup splashes,

Chips, pitta and salad speckle the pavement in lashes.

Clear, brown and green bottles smashed to smithereens

Lay there on the kerb next to gnawed chicken wings.

*frees small animal with its head stuck in a tin and bird tangled in beer six pack plastic ring *

4) When you’re shopping, when you’re eating, when your treat is had

Please do try and make use of the litter bins.

And then maybe Medway won’t look so bad.

GIRL FROM THE NECK DOWN -MEDWAY MESSENGER -13/04/15

BUT I'M A GIRL .....

I believe I may have referred to myself not being a very girly girl before in this column and a couple of incidents recently have done little to quell that depiction i have of myself.

From receiving a letter addressed to Mr Page to a bus driver calling me son despite the fact I was wearing a lovely vintage dress and the brightest red lipstick, i do wonder sometimes if that  even despite my best efforts to be ladylike I’m about as feminine as Les Dawson and Roy Barraclough portraying  Cissy and Ada .

My suspicions were further confirmed last week as my other half and I discussed the delivery of our new bathroom suite.

“Apparently, the delivery driver only brings it to the door so we need two big strong blokes to carry it in at this end “he informed me as he browsed through his emails.

“Well you’re one of them “said I “so who are you going to ask to help you “

“Oh don’t be silly, you, obviously “came the reply

Of course, I might have guessed!

GIRL FROM THE NECK DOWN - MEDWAY MESSENGER - 13/04/15

 

 

LOOKEY LIKEYS

Everyone has a double so they say; that somewhere out in the world there walks a person who is your mirror image.

A friend of mine has a doppelganger so eerily similar living here in the Medway towns that she’s got quite used to getting texts from friends saying they’ve just seen her in places she’s never been .

However unless you’re one of identical twins, triplets etc the chances of meeting yourself in duplicate is probably highly unlikely and it’s more probable that the person others will say you resemble is someone out there in the realm of celebrity.

My other half for instance has been told many a time that he looks like actor Martin Shaw both in his roles as Doyle from the professionals and Inspector George Gently.

And more recently he’s been christened with the nickname “ Mickey Pearce “ after some photos from his youth in which he sported a massive mop of curly hair and a dodgy moustache revealed a stunning likeness to the only fools and horses character .

However he’s not the only member of our household who resembles  a character from the world of comedy.

 Over the years I have been compared to both Mel and Sue, Dawn French and the character of Alice from the Vicar of Dibley but without fail if there’s someone trying to work out the answer to “who is it you remind me of “when faced with me and my “dazzling “personality more often than not it will be Kathy Burke.

Sometimes it’s her specifically as a comedy writer /actress and her mannerisms but generally it does seem to be her in the role of Kevin the teenager’s best friend Perry.

I could blame the years I wore my hair short, dark and clipped to the side or the fact that maybe sometimes I do come across a bit like an awkward teenage boy played by a woman I suppose but when I think about it , it could have been worse .

I’d much rather have people think “yes thank you Mrs. Patterson “when they look at me if I’m honest, than oh look its Waynetta Slob.

And at least it’s a step up from the lookalike I had before Kevin and Perry started “largin’ it up” in Ibiza.

For ,and I think you might be sensing some kind of theme here , previous to watching Kathy sending up Liam Gallagher whilst dressed as a young male with a drawn on beard , my short stature and tomboyish tendency drew many a comparison with Wee Jimmy Krankie .

So when during the leaders debates last week I noticed that Nicola Sturgeon was also being compared with Janette Tough’s naughty schoolboy comedy creation it brought back some memories and it got me thinking.

Much has been made of the comparison of Ed Miliband to Wallace of Wallace and Gromit  , David Cameron likening himself to Thomas the tank engine only to be rebuffed with the suggestion he’s more like posh engine Spencer  and I’m pretty sure green candidates must grow tiresome of references to the Wombles .

So it strikes me as odd that no-one else seems to have noticed the staggering likeness between a certain 80’s kids TV character and the leader of one of the other parties.

Come along you can’t fail to have noticed it as he stares out from billboards across the country and live into our front rooms via the medium of TV.

That smug look, that tendency to want to butt in and interrupt pompously while others are trying to have their say.

Surely I can’t be the only one who’s spotted the uncanny similarity between Nigel Farage and Zippy from Rainbow?

GIRL FROM THE NECK DOWN - MEDWAY MESSENGER 27/04/15

FARES FAIR IN DAYLIGHT ROBBERY

8.00am, its d day and that d it stands for dentist appointment.

The school has been made aware the kids will be arriving later and teeth cleaned to within an inch of their life we make our way out at the allotted time in our schedule to make sure our bus journey into town is calm and relaxed.  

I’ve come prepared with a purse full of change as we know how much a bus driver detests being presented with large notes first thing in the morning but that foresight becomes somewhat irrelevant when i step on board only to be informed child fares don’t start until 9am which going by our timetable will be when the first child is being examined in the dentist’s chair.

So after being fleeced for over £10 to get  my 12 year olds into town paying the adult rate for both them and myself , I would really like to ask how Arriva how they justify that that fare as being  fair.

GIRL FROM THE NECK DOWN - MEDWAY MESSENGER -27/04/15