Sparkly things?….No

Shoes?…..No

Handbags?……No

Clothes?……No

HOOVERS, yes I did say hoovers!

I currently have 9 in my collection ranging from,

Dyson upright, Dyson cylinder pet, Vax, Hoover Cylinder, Henry, Bissell, Miele, Black & Decker garden vac and my latest addition is a Black & Decker hand held dust buster called Horace, yes they all do have names!

Yesterday Mr F announced he was pulling the kitchen apart to fit a masshoosive fridge he had purchased. These words went straight over my head, I do not care because I was going hoover shopping, do what you will……..

Horace has been purchased purely for the stairs being that we have 26 stairs in our house and the traffic up and down them, 2 adults, 3 Emos + guests, 2 dogs, 1 cat and the occasional oap create nothing but dust!

Before any of you start shouting bejeezus the woman’s gone mad there are lots of things you can do with a hoover other than clean carpets, floors and stairs!

1, Board games, when things get tense be it a kids or adult/emo game, whip the hoover out and suck the flipping lot up, there argument over and problem solved.

2, Haircuts, hover with the nozzle strategically placed to catch all the hair.

3, Pets, great for grooming horses, dogs, cats and depending which one you use they get a massage too.

4, Snow, no more scraping the car or drive, get the Vax out for this job, snow, what snow?

5, Hedge trimmings, get the garden vac out and hoover those bushes

6, Awakening of the emo’s, just hoover their heads.

7, Oap’s who make a mess can easily be de crumbed without moving them

The list of uses for a hoover Is endless.

Okay so I maybe slightly odd but I am not hurting anyone, am I?

For all the votes.

I won The Novelist competition, my book will be published soon

A big fat MASSHOOSIVE thank you muchlies to everyone that keeps on voting for me.

The first 3 chapters of my book and synopsis are now avaliable for you to read and vote for (if you like the book)

DIARY OF A FRAZZLED MOTHER
By
Julia Frazzleby

Meet the Frazzleby’s

Mrs F, wife, mother, daughter, friend and general mug.
Mrs F is your average 44-year-old full-time working mother who has tracked the events of the last four years through a diary after giving up talking to the kitchen wall.
Some describe her as having a split personality
At home she has her head in the clouds, always running around after someone or something.
At work she is often described as ‘Marmite’, you either love her or hate her. She works in a male dominated environment and her male colleagues are convinced she has bigger balls than them.
Mr F is your typical 45-year-old bloke who has an obsession with sell by dates and suffers from extreme bouts of road rage. Mr F spends most of his time refereeing, rescuing Dad, removing hair dye from the bathroom walls and ceiling, staring googly-eyed at his alpacas and generally avoiding the neighbours.
Big Emo is 25, in the Armed Forces although manages to come home most weekends. When it comes to women he has the morals of a slug and considers anything over two dates as ‘in a relationship’ which he doesn’t want. Big Emo spends most of his time updating Mrs F by text as to where he is, what he is doing and who he is doing it with. Big Emo has an assortment of friends that treat Frazzle Towers as their second home much to the annoyance of Mr F.
Muggle Emo is 19, away at college, retaking her final year of A Levels. Of the 3 Emos she is the peace keeper unless you happen to mention the word ‘ginger’ and then all hell breaks out.
Lil’ Emo is 16 and has just started her first year of A Levels. Lil’ Emo wants to be a journalist although she isn’t very diplomatic and has the ability to start a fight in a different county. Lil’ Emo is obsessed with dying her hair and trying to convince Mrs F she should be allowed to get something other than her ears pierced.
Wants To Be A Vicar – boyfriend of Lil’ Emo and so named because he wants to be a vicar.
Dad is 85, recently widowed and lives 10 minutes from the Frazzleby’s. Recently diagnosed with dementia or in his words “I’ve got dimensions”. He often needs rescuing, gets lost on a regular basis and has a tendency to turn up for Sunday dinner on a Wednesday morning when everyone is out. Dad has Mr & Mrs F’s mobile numbers on speed dial and is not afraid to push the button….
Mrs Mop, the ageing cleaner, spends most of her time eating sweets and watching daytime TV with the Frazzleby dogs.
The Animals
Bruno the boxer dog is 7 and as mad as a box of frogs; he loves everyone and everything and has a severe drooling problem. He loves cheese and the vet but hates small dogs and Hector the cat.
Marge the British bulldog is 2, very bossy, lazy, snores like a pig, bottom burps and is often described as “fuggly”. Marge will do anything for food and hates going for a walk, cars and other dogs.
Hector the cat is 12 and spends most of his time fishing in the neighbours pond or winding Bruno and Marge up. Hector loves hair extensions and has an assortment of extensions belonging to Lil’ Emo hidden in his basket.
Alfie the horse is a 12-year-old bay gelding. Alfie likes the slower pace of life unless it’s on his terms and can turn into a bucking bronco at the drop of a hat. He loves doughnuts and swedes but hates donkeys, pigs, sheep, alpacas and people that whistle and has been known to throw swedes at anyone that whistles outside his stable.
Dumpling now renamed Houdini is an 18-year-old fat pony that the emos are now too big to ride. He can escape from anywhere and hates everyone and everything and only loves Alfie, much to the annoyance of Alfie.
Jock and Derek the alpacas, both of whom belong to Mr F and spend most of their time being moved away from Alfie, who hates alpacas. They love going for walks and hate dogs and Houdini.
Lucy the sheep spends most of her time being guarded by Jock and Derek and avoiding Alfie.
Dotty and Mabel, the pot-bellied pigs, spend most of their time wallowing in mud, chasing Houdini and generally getting in the way.
Family
SIL, who spends most of her day in the gym or playing golf and her evenings plotting career plans for her children also known as ‘practically perfect niece and nephew’
Practically perfect nephew, 18, currently studying A Level Maths and Physics; vegan and spends most of his time with his head in a book.
Practically perfect niece, 16, just started A Levels; wants to be a lawyer, is vegan and is allergic to everything.
Friends
Loon 1 and Loon 2 (Mrs F is referred to as Loon 3) All horse people, given the nicknames of the 3 Loons due to their antics, all will become clear later.
Lizzie is fun-loving and kind-hearted; blonde by name and by nature.
Eva, friend and co-worker; people describe Mrs F and Eva as a married couple because they bicker like one…
Anna, friend and co-worker; now works in a different office for the safety of others.
Mrs R, otherwise known as the boss and Twitter friend.
Mrs P, otherwise known as the shoe lady and Twitter friend.
Mrs S, otherwise known as the funny one and Twitter friend.
Mrs 2, the other bossy one and also a Twitter friend.
I’m from Exeter, slightly potty Twitter friend.

January 2012
Day 1
Dear Diary, Dear Book, Dear Wall
It’s a New Year and I have decided that I will make one resolution and that is to make a daily list and complete everything on it, so here goes today’s ‘to do list’.
Collect Mum
Find somewhere to put Mum
Dry cleaner run
Sort work clothes, bag etc. for tomorrow
Top up Lil’ Emo’s finger for school
Ring the vicar about Mum’s funeral
Take Dad’s shopping round
Write updates in Diary
Ask Loon 1 (number 1 horsey friend) to ‘do’ the animals tomorrow as it is first day back at work

Actually I am quite surprised, why haven’t I written lists before? No wonder I don’t get anything done.

Collecting Mum

If you have enjoyed reading this so far and would like to read the rest of the story, please click the link and vote for me, Julia Frazzleby.

Thank you muchlies http://tinyurl.com/c2g5cs3

This week my story is about snow, our obsession and the random behaviour it cases, I hope you enjoy and thank you so very much for all the votes. If I get through to the next round you will be able to read a few chapters of my book

Snow Gate

Recently the UK has been hit by ‘the snow’, I call it ‘the snow’ as it turns everyday folk into the weirdest people ever….me included.

I remember as a child in the late 70′s things being completely different. We had what the old folk’s call, proper snow, proper snow being the term for anything deeper than 4ft . We were snowed in for days, did we panic?, no we just got on with life. As a 7-year-old and out on a walk with my brothers I happened to stand on some proper snow and immediately disappeared down a hole much to their delight.

To me snow is snow, its white, wet, cold and needs to fall elsewhere. So with the forecaster telling us we are due for snow what happens next can only be described as random behaviour of the most superb kind.

We now as a country have a of set of ‘snow rules’ the first rule,

Overreact…

If you have enjoyed reading this so far and would like to read the rest of the story, please click the link and vote for me, Julia Frazzleby.

Thank you muchlies http://tinyurl.com/c2g5cs3

So here is the next story,

Jenny had always wanted to be a nurse ever since she watched the 1970′s weekly television series Angels.

Angels had inspired Jenny, it tackled issues such as contraception, alcoholism and care of the elderly.
Throughout her school years Jenny studied hard, she turned down the party requests and she knew exactly what grades she needed to be accepted on to the State Registered Nursing programme and no matter what happened Jenny was going to be a nurse and make a difference.
In the late 1980′s Jenny obtained the grades needed and embarked on a 3 year course to become a SRN. During her training Jenny was given a variety of placements one of which would serve her so very well in the years to come.

After qualifying Jenny specialised in A&E and worked there until having children when she found that she needed to find a post that fitted in with family life, she needed to work but also needed to be around more for her children. Thumbing through the local paper Jenny saw an advert which read, SRN’s wanted for local District Nursing Unit, days or evening shifts available. Without any hesitation Jenny applied and duly forgot her application until a letter arrived inviting her for an interview the following week.
The day of the interview arrived and Jenny was a bag of nerves, she wanted this job and couldn’t think of anything better than providing care for people in their own homes.
Jenny was composed and calm throughout the interview but inside she was a bag of nerves and knew the wait would be unbearable.
Three days later Jenny got the call she was waiting for, the stern voice of Sister Mainland announcing she had been successful in her application.
Over the years Jenny became a popular member of both the team and her patients, her favourites were the elderly. Jenny was a strong believer in choice and strove to ensure those that need assistance and wanted to stay with in their own homes were able to do so. Many obstacle’s came Jenny’s way be it in Management, other care providers or relatives.
As the years past Jenny was promoted and eventually she was made Sister and placed in charge of both the day and twilight district nurses. Jenny however now realised her mistake, no longer did she have time to pop and see her regulars, these were now visited by other nurses, Jenny was now stuck behind a desk and a mountain of paperwork. Each day became more and more mundane, reports, statistic, more reports and endless meetings, no longer did she have the patient contact she loved.
After a year at Management level Jenny decided enough was enough, no longer did she feel that she made a difference and handed in her notice for pastures new.

If you have enjoyed reading this so far and would like to read the rest of the story, please click the link and vote for me, Julia Frazzleby. 2 leave the competition on Friday leaving the final 2 for a show down…..

Thank you muchlies http://tinyurl.com/c2g5cs3

So here is the next story,

Beep, beep, beep, a loud shrill of the alarm clock goes off announcing its 7.00am, a hand untangles itself from the bedding and fumbles for the snooze button silencing the alarm for a second time. Almost as if in an instant the alarm emits more loud shrills impatiently, this time the alarm is successful and wakes the occupant of the bed.

Matthew, groggy from a fretful night’s sleep musters the energy to slide to the edge of the bed, he stretches, sighs and heads off to the shower to see if that will refresh him.

Half an hour later a refreshed Matthew emerges from the shower, he checks his watch and notices he has time for a much needed coffee before he needs to leave for the train station. As Matthew enters the kitchen area of his small flat he notices a letter on the work surface, hesitating he stops momentarily before picking the letter up. Matthew knows the contents of this letter off by heart, the contents have turned his world upside down.
A beep from his phone brings him back from his thoughts and back to reality, he is reminded that he needs to get to the station. Matthew gathers his things, throws on his jacket and heads out of the door.

Arriving at Kings Cross station Matthew heads to one of the automatic ticket collection machines, checking his phone for his booking reference he types in the number and patiently waits for his tickets to be printed. Tickets in hand he checks his seat reservation details and heads over to the concourse to check what platform his train is leaving from. The station is busy for a Saturday morning so he finds himself weaving in and out of travellers stood with their eyes fixed on the departure board.

An announcement is made, “The 8.35 to Leeds will depart from Platform 8”, Matthew heads off again checking his seat reservation details. He joins the swarm of people heading down the platform until he reaches coach D where he boards the train and finds his seat. Matthew checks his reservation again, he was sure he didn’t reserve a table seat, he didn’t want people around him or to feel the need to make small talk. With a sigh he takes his seat, looks at the 3 other seats, 2 are also reserved for the entire journey, he thinks to himself, I will move once we get going.

Matthew hears a commotion and looks up, 2 servicemen approach him, Matthew mumbles under his breath, “Please let them walk past”. It’s not Matthews day, he sighs as they announce these are their seats.

If you have enjoyed reading this so far and would like to read the rest of the story, please click the link and vote for me, Julia Frazzleby. Thank you muchlies http://tinyurl.com/c2g5cs3

So here is the next story………

Mollie’s Story

We had been searching for a while boxer dog to join our family and as a companion for our other boxer, when we came across an advert and gave no thought as to why one puppy remained. A phone call was made and the breeder who said she had no use or if there were no takers for this white boxer puppy she would be put to sleep.

We bought Mollie on 7th November 2008; the first night was probably one of the worst nights ever. Having had Bert from 9 weeks old we were expecting some disruption when putting her in a crate at night for the first time. Within seconds of Mollie being placed in the crate and being left all hell broke loose. I in all my years of keeping dogs have never heard such terrible noises come from a puppy. After a short time I went to check on her, Mollie had repeatedly thrown herself against the side of the crate and had also suffered from extreme projectile diarrhoea. After cleaning her up and checking to make sure the lumps and bumps were not serious I reheated her heat pad, turned the music up slightly and put on a night-light. Two hours later the noise coming from the crate was still as bad, my husband assured me that she would settle down but I knew something was not right although I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what,

If you have enjoyed reading this so far and would like to read the rest of the story, please click the link and vote for me, Julia Frazzleby. Thank you muchlies http://tinyurl.com/c2g5cs3

The words above just fill me with dread…..

Every year we have the same family arguments over who’s turn it is to have everyone for Christmas and please take note, when I say everyone I mean everyone which also happens to include Great Aunt Sal who is diabetic and wont go anywhere without her incontinent dog Freddie. Every year I lose, don’t ask me how I manage to end up cooking for 20 plus guests some of which I’m not even flipping related to.

3 years ago the arguments started as usual in October, no phone calls just random voice mails telling me who to expect, dietary requirements and a list of presents that are required.

Sat around the table one evening with Mr F and my 3 emo’s, (Big emo being the eldest, Muggle the middle one and Lil the youngest) (for those of you with pre teen children, emo is the technical term for children when they become adolescent) I decide to broach ‘Christmas with the family’. Sometimes I wish I would just shut my mouth, I really do…. The following comments were made,

“Mum, we all think you and Terrance the turkey are having an affair, nobody sets eyes on you for hours”
“Mum, we do love you but you turn into a neurotic, sprout obsessed colour-sergeant”
“I am not sitting next to Great Aunt Sal she smells of wee, breaks wind and blames it on Uncle Jack”
The list of comments went on and on, Big and Muggle emo’s threatened to go elsewhere if all and sundry were to descend upon us yet again.

With comments still ringing in my ears and the number of guests increasing I went to bed with a heavy heart.

3.00am I sit bolt upright in bed…”Oh my days I’ve got it” I shout at the top of my voice. I Julia Frazzleby have made a decision

If you have enjoyed reading this so far and would like to read the rest of the story, please click the link and vote for me, Julia Frazzleby. Thank you muchlies http://tinyurl.com/c2g5cs3

This week we had to write about London 2012, so here is my entry,

This is London

The eye’s of the world are staring at us, it is the summer of 2012 and the 30^th Olympiad has come to town.

As a nation we have spent the 7 years since winning the bid preparing, building, practising, more building, moaning and a few more practise runs thrown in for good measure to ensure we are ready. 

Our motto as a nation is ”be prepared” and prepared we blooming well would be.

This after all is Great Britain!

If you would like to continue reading please click the link below, newest edition and keep voting if you can as there is no limit to how many times you can vote

Julia Frazzleby at : http://tinyurl.com/c2g5cs3

A big fat masshoosive thank you once again

Love Frazz

For our second assignment I was given 4 pictures and was asked to write a short story around one of the pictures. The picture I chose was that of a bench firmly nestled away under a large weeping willow tree in a corner of a park.

The Park Bench

I am a bench nestled in a corner of a park in central in London. I was created from wood and have a brass plate attached to my top slat which reads, In Loving Memory of Arthur R.I.P, sadly he passed away in 1996. The plaque has aged over the years, the bronze now dirty and tainted by the pollution in the air.

My feet are sunk firmly into the grass and I have been positioned under a large weeping willow tree. I am slightly worn, the teak oil applied in the early spring has now faded leaving me a dulish grey brown.

Over the years many young couples have carved their initials within my slats with a heart lovingly carved around them, although they are all now faded they still remain.

I am the keeper of many secrets, some that are sad and some that are happy, I act as a haven for those that need solitude, rest or to play.

My visitors are many, some that visit frequently and others that just pass by taking a moment to sit under the willow and daydream.

Occasionally I have a night visitor and one in particular is a regular, the park keepers turning a blind eye.

John looks like an old man when in fact he is 25, his clothes are ragged and dirty, he has few possessions in the world which he keeps in a tatty rucksack. John carries the weight of the world on his shoulders,

If you would like to continue reading please click the link below, newest edition and keep voting if you can as there is no limit to how many times you can vote

Julia Frazzleby at : http://tinyurl.com/c2g5cs3

A big fat masshoosive thank you once again

Love Frazz