Morning service

I got up this morning to find Mr Smith, the Apprentice and the dog all staring at the telly. Andy Murray was playing tennis against Federer in Australia. Andy Murray lost and the dog has been in a bait ever since; I had to absolutely drag him round the common for his walkies. He is looking a bit portly these days so I think a low carb diet and plenty of exercise is a good prescription for both of us.

I spent the afternoon trying not to eat all Internet Dating Jane's lovely biscuits as they came out of her oven. Oh they are so delicious. I then ate her emergency chocolate but I did manage to practice moderation, a fairly new concept for me.

My grandmother is still hanging onto life by a thread - a high tensile steel thread of the sort used to pull trucks. She has been given a prognosis of four (very long) days. I sent her some hyacinths in the hope that she can smell them and enjoy them before she wafts away. I am so horrified that anyone should have to die so slowly and miserably; a little shot of morphine and she'd quietly go to sleep but it's no longer allowed which seems mighty unfair to me.

Lost relations

Antonia Rolls came to visit me at the seaside yesterday morning. She is a fellow artist - a bit better than me - whose paintings I love. She painted my portrait and I have another painting of hers in my flat. She sadly lost her man to cancer a couple of years ago and painted some wonderful pictures of him on his deathbed which caused quite a lot of controversy when exhibited. Her most recent exhibition was cancelled at the last minute due to the family of the dead chap raising a terrible stink and being ridiculously mean and spiteful. They honestly are the most beautiful pictures, not remotely gruesome but interesting; perhaps a little necromantic for some but brave nonetheless. It is always nice to see an old friend; makes the world spin a little less rapidly even though ten years ago feels like yesterday.

I received an e-mail out of the blue from someone claiming to be my long lost cousin. Actually, she is Mr Smith's long lost cousin. I went to visit her on the way back from the seaside and she was jolly nice. I had to explain that all Smiths are extremely antisocial and she'd be unlikely to get any response from any of them, especially Mr Smith who remembers her as a little girl at the seaside having a 99 when the Smiths all had to make do with the threepenny cornet, and has born a grudge ever since.

When I got back to London I suddenly remembered Internet Dating Jane, Tarzan, Sensible Alison and Ed were coming to dinner. I had to fabricate a chocolate roulade, a vaguely clean house and a Moroccon lamb stew. I managed to get it all together by the time our dinner guests arrived but I was rather tired. I ate about 3 helpings of chocolate roulade washed down with two bottles of champagne and wasn't very well in the night. The diet seems to be on holiday.

Mrs Smelly

Went to Borough Market with Mad Carina to meet Claudia but she didn't come in the end which was just as well as the market was closed. I bought amazing cheeses in the Neal Street Dairy which were a bit pongy throughout my meeting. There was never an opportunity to say "It isn't me, it is my cheese".

After all my mad dashing around I went to the seaside for a few days r&r via Farnham to drop of the Student's washing - say thank you you little ingrate. "Why? I didn't ask you to do my washing." We still love him but why?

The seaside was a bit boring apart from my new freezer arriving; it's rather petite. Never mind, it wasn't very expensive and it does the job. My friend wasn't well so couldn't come to quiz night, Designer Susan had gone to the cinema and my other friends didn't want to come out and play so I ended up watching rather a lot of rubbish telly, reading and sewing my trousers wrong - to be rectified in my next. I actually really missed Mr Smith, the dog and the Apprentice.

Madly dashing

Gosh so busy, almost no time to park the broomstick. The Student son's flat is being "inspected" today so I went down to clear it up and jolly nice it looks too - took me a while! I hope he hasn't messed it up during the night. I know him. Making his bed is an alien concept.

I shopped til I dropped yesterday and got everything on the list and some of the things were extremely obscure. I then made some tomato soup, a pineapple upside down pudding and two great big country pates (sorry, that is pattays - no accent available on my English keyboard) that went a bit wrong as I didn't have enough liver so they are more like meatloaf. I'll call it Bat out of Hell terrine. The pineapple pudding was divine and I kept having little nibbles til I remembered the diet and how well it's going - nearly a stone ... nearly.

Now I have to go to meet the Lovely Claudia and Mad Carina for lunch followed by a fun shopping spree. Lucky us. Then I'm off to deliver my father's birthday present and home to make a moussaka and attack the student's ironing so I can deliver it back tomorrow. Whizz whizz.

Success

Mr Smith didn't go to golf today and took up residence on the sofa like a ... well, like me really except I didn't lounge on the sofa at all. I walked the dog and visited Internet Dating Jane and her new sewing machine. Well, it's really her old sewing machine that she hasn't quite got round to taking out of its box ... for two years. She has now, so we busied ourselves doing purple fancy stitches (she only had purple thread) all afternoon.

I came home and decided to study the alimentary canal. I have discovered it takes more than 72 hours (3 days) for your food to go from mouth to loo if you are a normal healthy person or even if you are a barking mad healthy person for that matter. That's quite a long time.
I couldn't be bothered to wait three days so I cheated and took a few potions washed down with a bottle of wine which gave me a hangover. However, I do feel a bit lighter now and hopefully can write about something more interesting than my bowels from now on.

By the way Mr Smith, ever competitive, wishes to report enormous success -thrice round the bowl and pointed at both ends. I've had to remind him that boasting isn't attractive.

Nothing so far

I didn't go to tap dancing today as I just wasn't in the mood for all that hoofing about, getting it all wrong. So I stayed in bed peforming some PE for my brain - the general knowledge crossword. I wasn't all that brilliant at that either. I then took my fat body for a fat swim where there were lots of thin people. Oh well, maybe I'm a good object lesson to what could happen to them if they don't take lots and lots of exercise. I did feel a bit depressingly large. It will take more than a mere 20 lengths once in a while to shift the excess. Maybe I ought to join aquaerobics. I think they do it three mornings a week. It would be very good for me.

I shall spend the rest of the day lardy arsing it on the sofa with a bit of knitting once I've walked the dog. Mr Smith tends to hog the tv on a Saturday afternoon for endless boring sport. I bet there's a film on the other channel (or 32 other channels). Ooooh goody, Little Women, an absolute favourite. Mr Smith is definitely on dog walking duty.

Poo Blog

In my search for constipation cures on line, I have just found the most amazing thing: The Bristol Stool Scale. You may already be familiar with this but it was an eye opener for me. It is a chart with scores 1-7 with pictures (diagrams rather than photos, thank goodness) of different types of poo from hard rabbit droppings to the runs. I've always been a bit ignorant in this department but I now feel quite knowledgable. Move over Gillian Mckeith.

I then went to the health food shop where I only meant to get one small bottle of syrup of figs but ended up with the colon cleanse, the fibre booster, the cod liver oil capsules, the aloe vera and some linseed and flax seeds. Oh, I forgot to get the syrup of figs. Oh well, there must be something amongst my expensive haul that will do the trick.

Mr Smith is waiting with anticipation for the results with his clipboard.

Granny's millions

Oooh I am so excited about my forthcoming trip to Holland. I bought a little moleskine guide to Amsterdam which isn't actually a guide as you have to write it yourself but it has suitably confusing maps and lots of sections. I managed to book a restaurant for my birthday dinner so I feel I am really organised now even if I can't find the Rijksmuseum on the map.



I met my mother at the V&A where we went to a rather odd exhibition of computerised art. It was the sort of thing I normally go to see at the Hayward - the V&A bringing contemporary art to the tweedy. We then went to the jewellery section which was lovely - I really recommend a visit. My mother then wanted to go to a restaurant for lunch that she said was just nearby - several bus journeys later we found it!



I told her that I was unable to go to the Caribbean as I have to pay for my forthcoming operation. She assures me my grandmother (one of Britain's richest women) is finally about to cop it so I can pay for it out of my inheritance. Poor old Granny - she has been hanging on by a thread for a while now and we've all started talking about her as though she's a smelly old dog we need to have put down. Unfortunately, the law is so shit hot now, you daren't even give her so much as an extra aspirin. Mr Smith is all for going there with his little stickers marked "property of mr & mrs smith". I think waiting until she has finally departed would be polite.

Tiresome Tuesday

Blue Monday started so well but went downhill as it wore on. I went to the seaside flat where the fridge freezer was broken and was sitting in a puddle of water.

I walked along the beach whereupon a thick fog came rolling in and I could hardly see my lovely red boots. My friends didn't turn up for a curry as planned so I dined alone and watched loads of crappy telly. It cleared the next morning and the sun came out. I so didn't want to leave but I was missing my family.

I returned to the OK coral to find the Apprentice had been trying to do Wii weight training using two tins of paint for weights. Guess what happened next? I cleaned it up a bit and bought a new rug. Gosh I was cross. The Student chose that moment to call - he won't again!

I then got my period - I'm getting too old for this. Mrs Ratty Ratbag of Rattsville - that's me.

Oh, and did I mention my grandmother is dying?

Mrs Smith with clogs on

It's Blue Monday so I will wear something blue. I am not a bit blue as I firstly did all the ironing then booked a holiday for Mr Smith and me in Amsterdam using his air miles.

I decided this would be a lovely way to celebrate our birthdays in February and if I use his airmiles Mr Smith can't harp on about money. He is already practising his "I didn't want to go to Amsterdam in the first place" face. He's fun to travel with! I now can hardly believe I've forgone the opportunity to swan off to the West Indies on his airmiles in order to enjoy a minibreak in Amsterdam with the world's most digruntled traveller.

I'm going to my flat at the seaside for a couple of days ... without the dog. I need to breathe sea air and feel all cosy in my lovely flat surrounded by my lovely things and no kids or Mr Smith for miles and miles. Me time.

Introducing my new wellies

Aren't they lovely? I am completely in love with them. They trudge through the sludge most efficiently. Hunters with laces for fat people's legs - about time they produced a welly I can get my leg AND trousers into.

We rolled up the rug on the playroom floor to reveal the bit I never painted. Job for later today. It needs two coats and the dog will no doubt walk on one of them. Perhaps I could send him and Mr Smith out in the rain whilst I do it. Neither of them seem to like that idea much whilst there's cricket on the telly.

Home gym

The snow has all gone away apart from a few remnants of snow and dogpoo men dotted about the place. Things look refreshingly green and I managed to plant the last of the bulbs today; a job I told Mr Smith I'd done in October. I had a bit of a hunt for the bulbs but eventually found a box with things growing out of it, the contents of which I deposited around the garden in rather shallow graves. I don't hold out much hope but you never know.

The sitting room is not the ideal place to do exercises; we keep bumping into furniture and wearing a hole in the carpet. The Apprentice and I decided to make a gym. We cleared the playroom, bought a big tv and set up the Wii machine and dvd player. We were then far too fatigued to do any exercises. Mr Smith will no doubt come home and upset it all as the tv aerial is in the back of his golf cupboard. I wonder if he will take extreme care in taking out his golf trolley or will he just yank out the wires in a bait?

Lost causes

Today I wrote myself a hideous list of tasks which I then lost.

Dancercise

Yesterday I bought a dance/exercise dvd. The dog and I snuggled up on the sofa and watched it. All that squirming about looks hard work. I'll get Mr Smith to prance round in his leotard in front of it later.

It snowed and snowed all morning. I seem to be expending great amounts of energy just keeping warm. I am wearing a jersey that sees the light of day about once every five years. It's enormous - a bit less enormous than it used to be because I am also enormous. It is knitted in Icelandic lopi. I bought it in Iceland (the country not the shop) and it so superbly warm I feel like a big fat Icelandic cod wrapped in batter.

I have just had a serious think about this weighty matter of my BMI but I then decided I could think of a million more interesting things to worry about instead like what fatty matter to feed Mr Smith so he doesn't lose weight and turn the whole thing into a hideous competition.

Goodbye Ruby Tuesday.

Yesterday the Apprentice son and I went to Argos to spend my £10 voucher on Wii Fit Plus. We are going to be fit. I was useless at ordinary Wii Fit, (fat and unco-ordinated) so, not suprisingly, this isn't much better. It has that nasty PE teacher mentality - constantly telling me off. OK I can't do it, you stupid machine. I have a nasty suspicion that however much I practice it will make no difference, a bit like skiing.

I decided to Freecycle most of my cooking pots today so I can't cook anything. My family can get takeaways. My reasoning behind this bold act is to free up some space in our cupboards, particularly saucepan land. We might now have less of a tussle trying to get pans in and out. Less is best, until Mr Smith says something like "You can cook me a great big stew in the great big pot you've got". My rehearsed retort: "Well, actually, I think a small stew is much tastier." Most of my cooking is done in the le Creusier pots because I'm a frightful snob - mind you they're a bugger to wash up as they're so damned heavy - I need a scullery maid. I will explain to Mr Smith in the simplest of terms: I Mrs Bridges, you Ruby.

Right, time to clean the kitchen and marvel at its emptiness. Mr Smith will then be pleased with me before he asks his usual "Where's my tea, woman?" like the true Yorkshireman he is.

Lighter me

Although I am suffering from a severe visit by Captain Constipation, I have still managed to lose 8lbs. Eight pounds in one week - my God, that's amazing!

We sent the student back to University after his Christmas break with a half finished project and no heating in his flat. I had to go again this morning to get him up and get his heating sorted out. He needs a mendyman and good clip round the ear.

My goodness me, Surrey is snowy.

Stuck in a vacuum

Time to get rid of that awful non working Dyson that spits out more bits than it eats. I put it on Freecycle. Simple ad: Non-working Dyson Ball SW15 - please reply with phone number.
I received 8 e-mails: four with no phone number, two who failed to note it didn't work, one from a lovely lady just round the corner who wants to nurse it better who just pipped a chap called Jeff, who likes mending Dysons, to the post. Lady round the corner came and looked at it and I am relieved to say that when I ran it through its paces it dutifully deposited much debris on the floor. She thought she could sort it out and doesn't even mind that it smells of dog. It's now hers.

Now how on earth am I am going to do the housework? I'm not.

The diet is now at Day 7 and going well except I am as bunged up as that Dyson. Oh well, I dare say I'll go eventually.

And by the way, Mr Smith, I did not Freecycle the hoover because I couldn't be arsed to empty it. I actually couldn't be bothered to wash out the filter.

New shreddies

Put on my lovely new underwear (I could still find the matching bra and pants at this stage as they were still in their carrier bag rather than distributed separately around the house in the washing basket, washing machine or laundry room with the other bit elsewhere) and pranced around the bedroom a bit for the benefit of Mr Smith who said he couldn't see as he hadn't got his glasses on. So I got dressed and took the dog for a very cold walk through the snow. This is strictly Mr Smith's duty but he had a nice warm bed to lounge in whilst his fat wife trudged his fat dog round the common. He can do the afternoon walk.

We had the most lovely Thai salmon fish cakes last night. Mr Smith got in a bait about the noodles - something about the timing - lucky I didn't throw them at him really.

I am quite enjoying a bit of experimental cooking in the quest for the body beautiful or at least beautifuller. This morning it was little sausage muffins, well they would have been muffins but I didn't have a muffin tin so they were sausage fairy cakes. They were a bit like Yorkshire puddings with sausage and cheese and very delicious they were too. Mr Smith looks on and makes constructive remarks such as "A bit of palaver, isn't it?" Does he want to wear his breakfast? I think I need to go away for a bit.

Sock it to me

New diet is going marvelously well. I have hidden my bathroom scales as the temptation to weigh myself every time I pass them, i.e. every time I go to the loo, is too great. Once a week is enough. In fact I think the coolest thing in the whole wide world would be not to have the faintest idea what you weigh but judge how you're doing by how you look in your clothes and which ones do and don't fit. I could never manage that.

Went shopping in the snow. I bought thick socks for the boys and thick tights for me. Well, that is I went to buy thick tights for me but they're located in the lingerie department where there are lots of lovely bras, knickers and nighties. I spent loads. I then went to the market where I bought chewy things for the dog and forgot to get any fruit or veg which I ended up buying in Waitrose. Oh well, Mr Smith pays if I shop with the magic credit card and not if I pay cash.

The dog has a paw malfunction. I think it's where I stepped on him the other day. He's doing exaggerated limping with a look of "It was clumsy stupid her" on his face.

Piggy porkers

Well, we didn't go out for a curry as we were snowed in. Mr Smith came back from work early which was most alarming. It makes the evening very long and my watching of the Weakest Link most fraught. I told him I don't watch it but the dog does. It's his timing mechanism as he can't have his dinner until the words "You leave with nothing" have passed Anne Robinson's lips. Anyway, Mr Smith ruined it by yelling out all the answers and forgetting to bank.

We had roast pork with loads of lovely vegetables and crackling. Oh it was delicious. Then we weighed ourselves. Well, that is I weighed Mr Smith. Oh God, he wasn't lying; he really does weigh less than me, tons less. I refused to get on the scales but said I'll let him know when I get to his weight and he'd better not move the goalpost by losing so much as an ounce.

Big white walk

Oh how it snows. The whole garden is white, white, white. It's so thick (and still snowing) that I might make a snow and dogpoo man on the lawn.

I went for a big walk in the snow. I walked across Wimbledon Common all the way to the supermarket and bought a few clothes of the cheap sort that will do me for now until I am my proper size. It was a long walk and I feel rather proud of myself for doing it. I did resist the temptation to buy a chair as I knew I'd never get it back on the bus but I did get dog food and spinach and an expensive 35p bag to carry it all in.

I also bought a couple of vacuum storage bags that shrink your clothes down to the size of a pizza. The last ones I got must have sprung leaks as the duvets had all opened up to enormous when I looked in the cupboard. However, they can stay there as the new bags are for my ill fitting clothes. This is quite simple - they fall into three categories ... Small, really small and big. Big fits me now so can go back in wardrobe. Small and stupidly small can go under my bed until I attain those sizes. And I dare say there'll be a load of crap in between that can hit the bin.
Busy me. I have to get this done before Mr Smith comes to inspect. Well, he can't help inspecting really if it's all in heaps all over our bedroom.

Oooh goody, we're going out for a curry tonight ... providing we can get down the road that is.

Jacket couch potato

I have changed my mind about the Lovely Claudia; she is now the Mean Nasty Claudia because she won't come to the Caribbean with me. This is because she is going to the Far East with her husband not because she actually hates me - fair cop.

Internet Dating Jane and Claudia popped round and they both ate cake and I am totally amazed that I didn't. Even more amazing is that I didn't want any cake and this is Mrs Piggy Wiggy Cake Eating Champion of the Whole Wide World talking here. One great incentive to the no cake thing is wanting to fit into the Jules jacket I got for Christmas which is a bit on the small side i.e. I can't do it up. Jane tried on my jacket so I can see what I will look like in it when I am her size. Lovely. I knew I would.

Mr Smith accompanied me on my diet this evening - we had fish. It is all immensely hard work as I cook lots of perfect no carb food then have to cook lots of different things for my family too as they need a bit more ballast to their meals than me. The fish wasn't very nice as it had horrid little spikey bones in it. Oh well it's good for our brains - we will be super swotty and answer all the questions on University Challenge. This is easy for Mr Smith as he saw it last night.

Flying fattie

Two great finds of the day: The diet book and Mr Smith's air miles. This means I can get thin and go the Caribbean. Wheehee.

I remember trying to start this diet some time ago when I actually bought the book but I got stuck on the first page which told you to have a final carbs bingeing day which I seem to have been doing for the past two years. It's now time to turn over the page and eat something less fattening. For some unknown reason, when my guard was down, I owned up to Mr Smith what I actually weigh. I think it's even more than him and he's dead porky and very tall. He's a kilos man and a I am a stones lady - lots of them- so it'a bit tricky to calculate. I like pounds because they diminish faster - kilos take for bloody ever.

On the holiday front, I am trying to persuade the Lovely Claudia to come with me and Mr Smith to stay at home. This could be fun. The dates are bit flexible as I am having an operation in February and will be too fat to go before then and too ill to go straight after. Maybe March. I will be very economical til then and not buy new clothes but work hard at squeezing into the micro size ones I already have.

The choicest diet

Looking at diets various, I have plumped for (yes pun intended) India and Nerys's Foolproof Diet. They lost 10 stone between them which is no mean feat. India Knight is a superbly funny writer and Nerys does the drawings. I feel lighter already although I haven't actually started the diet yet and now can't find the book. It's basically Atkins with a bit of jollity thrown in. I'll give it a whirl.... when I find the book.

The tea cosy really works and I am practising tea with no caffeine and no sugar ... bit tricky but I'll ease myself in gently. I only ever have the merest hint of sugar anyway not a builders 2 spoonfuls stirred til the cup has diabetes.

The dog is still fluffy and silky after his bath and he smells much nicer. I found him eating the diet book. I think Mr Smith fed it to him.

Production

One of my NYRs is to be more productive. Today I have produced: a clean kitchen, some cauliflower soup, a bathed dog and a tea cosy, and tonight I will produce a chicken curry. The tea cosy has gone a bit bish as I was trying to watch a crappy film at the time so wasn't giving it quite all my attention, but it'll do. I have just got to sew up the bottom bit by hand then I can have pots and pots of hot tea forever.

An illuminated morning

My morning is not faring well, not at all. Firstly, I was hauled from my bath by the postman - well not literally as that would have been most embarrassing, especially as it wasn't Gary our usual postman but a very zealous doorbell ringer of a temporary postie. I put on my big towelling robe, ran downstairs and glared at the man. I really wouldn't have minded that much except the parcel contained free energy saving light bulbs addressed to Mr Smith. Oh how I hate them. I hate their stupid wiggly shape and the sad little gloam they give to all rooms. We have one outside that we call "the dark" as in "Could you switch on the dark please" as it gives out such a pathetic glimmer it illuminates nothing but the casing. Mr Smith says they need time to warm up. I know that but I am too impatient; I want to see now, that is why I turned the light on. I have found a website that specialises in illegal non government issue bulbs http://www.thelightbulb.co.uk/ to which I will probably become a very good customer from henceforth and stamp on the free ones with my huge carbon footprint.

As I shouted at the postman for making me take delivery of this stupid free unwanted gift instead of simply leaving it on the step, I noticed Mr Smith sitting in his car where he'd been trying to melt a hole in the ice on his windscreen from the inside for the past ten minutes. He might have headed off the postman and allowed me an uninterrupted bath. I opened his car door, grabbed the scraper and hit him with it. No I didn't actually. I do what I do every morning; I scraped his windscreen and shouted at him fiercely. A little crowd of neighbours gathered to watch the spectacle of Dressingown Woman in middle of street screeching hysterically at man in car. I glared at them and they went away.

I am now reading about Anger Management for New Year - they suggest starting your day with a nice relaxing (uinterrupted) bath!

Twenty ten

New Year. New Blog. Well done to those of you who have found me.

Captain's log stardate 2010. Do you say two thousand and ten or twenty ten? 20.10 - mmm that's ten past eight when I am usually having a little drinky poo procured by Mr Smith as I cook him something inedible for his dinner. He rarely complains unless he wants to wear it. The dog eats up the left overs - he is getting a bit portly of late.

We currently have the Apprentice (eldest son) and the Student (youngest son), our customers, residing here at no.16. However, they must have been partying like mad last night as neither of them have come home so they are probably residing in police cells or on strangers' floors or maybe females' beds? I'm ever hopeful, as are they.

New Year's resolutions ... Mr Smith to be more helpful, the student less idle and the Apprentice profitably employed. Me? Well, perhaps I could be a bit more productive and stare into space a little less, we'll see. I do seem to have ground to a slight halt. Oh and of course I have to lose weight - something I will no doubt bang on about throughout the year once I've polished off the rest of the Christmas cake and sent Mr Smith out for some exercise.