Life really does go backwards at 40

Lunch Hour Olympics

Anyone living in or working in London will tell you they’ve had enough already. The Olympics are for the people, yeah right so why are all the events on during the day when most of us are at work?

So during the run up and I’m sure while the Olympics are on I will be faced with my own daily version, lunch hour Olympics, its called lunch hour for a reason……

On my list of events today are, Superdrug, WH Smiths, Sainsbury’s and Gregg’s

Getting past the receptionist – Lovely lady but she could talk the hind legs off a donkey. I have an hour and a masshoosive list of things to do. Now is not the time to ask me what am I having for lunch nor are you doing a little shopping and certainly do not ask me about the weather. So I get in the lift and poise myself to make a mad dash out through reception. Lift doors open and there is a masshoosive line forming for the security gates so I fail at the first hurdle.

Chuggers – They are everywhere and even more so since now they think there will be an increase in victims. So I dodge chugger 1, 2 3 and 4 all within 5 mins, Chugger 5 spots me, he is a pesistant feker and decides he will trot along beside me. The speel ringing in my ears I stop and say, Ok I will sign up but on 2 conditions, 1, you give me your bank details and 2, you take my emo’s and send them out to help with this project. Chugger 5 is thinking, he asks me why I need his bank details so I respond by saying I can pass them on to chugger 6 who is eagerly awaiting my arrival on his part of the street. Bingo I get gold in the event as Chugger admits defeat. I do give to charity but I will not give anyone my bank details.

Little people, their chariots and parents – This is a two stage event, Part 1 is avoiding the 3 abreast pushchairs with dangly shopping bags, why they feel the need to do this I have no idea, I am doing well until child in buggy 3 throws his toy and they stop dead in front of me. Mum of child 3 let’s go of buggy to pick up toy and buggy 3 proceeds to tip backwards. So mad panic as child 3 is upside down and items from bags are making their way in various directions. I pick up a tin of beans which has stopped by my foot and have it swiftly snatched from me. I obviously look like I was about to walk off with it so I smile sweetly and say its quiet alright and head on to stage 2 of this event.

Little people a wandering – First I am hit by small child who runs into me, its ok he hasn’t fallen over so I move on to child 2 who is about to jump onto the road, ninja responses kick in and I stop him from running out into the road, yet again not a word of thanks. Child 3 then runs into me and lands on her bum which causes her to scream, I help her up and her Mother proceeds to look at me as if I am some kind of weirdo so now I’ve had enough and give this Mother a don’t fek with me look. she retreats with child. So in this event I think it’s a draw.

I’ll point out I haven’t actually made it into any of the shops yet but I see a gap and I’m gone at warp factor nine I dodge small people, oldies and yet more chuggers and I make it to WH Smiths.

Purchasing a card without extras – I dodge various bodies milling around and I’m at the card isle. Scanning takes place and I find the card but no envelope so my arms fling up and down, left and right until I find an envelope that fits, now to the tills. The tills are near the entrance and the route is lined with various obstacles and people. I dodge, weave hop from foot to foot and even a little skip gets thrown in and I’m there. Huge line of people waiting to pay so I hop dementedly from foot to foot looking like I need to wee. they close a till noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo its lunchtime what are you doing, I am doomed. So I wait and wait for my turn. My turn arrives, I have by now sorted the right amount out for the card in cash and I need to shift but wait I’m asked if I’d like a family sized bar of galaxy for a pound?, no thank you, a bottle of Scottish spring water for a pound?, nope, a bag of harribo’s for a pound, nooooo and finally I’m asked would I like first class stamps for my card. Now the woman has already examined my card and remarked its a nice cards she also knows it says husband on it, so I say no thank you I live with my husband so I don’t need any stamps take my card and stomp out.

Superdrug – Now I’m in here to buy some stuff to return emo’s hair to her natural colour. I head down the aisle towards the hair colour sign and I’m hit by a Max Factor rep who decides I fit her profile to try new products on. Now I try politely as possible to explain that I’m on my lunch and have to make one purchase in here and that’s it, my plea’s fall on deaf ears so I shout MOVE, this works and she steps aside and lets me past. I am now in the hair colour bit but there are 6 different products so I call Lou in the office as she is always doing things to her hair, problem solved. Box in hand I detour to avoid Max Factor Woman. Tills are empty but wait I’m done big time by a Dad and pushchair, noooo epic fail. So Dad is at the till and has only picked up 1 bag of baby wipes from a BOGF arrrghhhhhh noooooooooo please god help me, he is off wandering around because he can’t remember where he picked them up from. So I wait and wait until its my turn and I’m asked did I find everything I needed and say I don’t want stamps, the lady tells me they don’t sells stamps so I suggest they should and walk out, epic fail again.

Sainsbury’s – I need a newspaper having forgotten to pick one up in Smith’s, I also need bread as a loaf has disappeared overnight. This is a small Sainsbury’s one of those express or extra ones. Paper found and I’m in the bread isle. I’m examining bread when I’m reversed into by a man in a mobility scooter. Now my friend Dick and I have encountered this man on many of our lunchtime wobbles, he is quiet frankly a nuisance and is forever knocking displays over or just destroys the shop so I just turn and go the other way as he is now stuck and proceeds to knock everything over in his attempt to turn round. I go to pay and I stand with a foot in both the lines for self-service and serviced tills. I hit the self-service till’s and off I go but wait my loaf of bread isnt recognised and the till starts wailing for assistance. I wait an age and a man slowly ambles towards me and asks me what the problem is so I look at the till and say it thinks this loaf of bread is a bottle of wine, I cannot stop myself adding at this point, no I’m not Jesus. Ambling man taps away and hurrah we have a picture of bread so I’m done. I think this counts as a fail too.

So now I have a crossing to negotiate before I hit Gregg’s, I wait patently with the others waiting to cross, the line up is, Mum with buggy, me, a fellow office worker, a couple of youths and an old lady with a shopping trolley. Green man flashes and I’m like a racehorse gone….

I can see Gregg’s it’s in my sights but I’m stopped in my tracks by a tourist wanting directions. Now at what point do I look like a police man, a tour guide etc, I have no idea where the place is they are looking for because I just work here, I don’t live here so off I go again.

Gregg’s – By now the line is out of the door so I can’t see if they have what I’m after which is 2 tubs of their mini sausage rolls and a lemon muffin. So I wait patiently and its my turn, no mini sausage rolls or muffins, both sold out, Epic fail Dad will be soooo disappointed.

I head back to the office and I’m hit by more chuggers, little people, oldies a few Hare Krishna’s who wave their bells at me, they are lucky I am in a rush because those bells could end up somewhere extremely painful.

I am back in the safety of our office and our receptionists ask me if I’ve been shopping and did I have a nice lunch, bang slap me on the forehead I’ve forgotten to buy lunch. I stand there and weigh up the pros and cons of running the gauntlet again, check watch, 52 mins I’ve been gone and decide I’d rather starve. I drag my self back to my desk and one of my colleagues asks me what’s it like out on the high road, my reply, a feking war zone.

So I’m now back at my desk and I’m exhausted after all I’ve run a marathon, taken part in triple jump, run the 100 metres across the road, Slalomed along the pavement and skipped so now……..


Tissue Gate… War Is Declared

If my nicely washed clothes come out of Hugo one more time looking like this

I will NOT be held responsible for my actions.

Where in the ‘manual of wifedom’ or the ‘how to be a parent’ book does it say empty their pockets… NO FEKING WHERE. Actually I lie slightly I haven’t read any books on wifely duties nor parenting because quiet frankly most of them have been written by people with no common sense.

At what point does your family lose the ability, actually scrap that as I’m not sure they have the common sense to put their hands in their pockets and remove the items they shoved in there, clearly I don’t have enough to do and I am not a goddess of domesticdom.

So I am responsible for ruining many things which have been in pockets,

Return train tickets

Endless £10 and £5 and the odd £20, most of which dry out extremely well on the window sill



Bus pass



ID Card

Phone numbers


Mobile phone




For feks sake I’ve even found a cup in the washing machine once after it had been mistaken for the dishwasher

The list is endless

So back to my washing, I have a pair of black trousers that now look like they’ve been snowed on. Lint roller….scrap that, selotape…. scrap that, I havent got all day so back into Hugo they go.

Do I get a sorry Mum, do I fek but what I do get is, Mum you’ve washed my jeans, my bank card was in my pocket. So the clothes in the washing basket do not need washing, they are obviously there for another reason, perhaps this is just a stop-gap towards the bedroom floor or perhaps under the bed.

Next time this happens I will  either

Take a pair of scissors to their clothes

Chuck their clothes in the wheelie bin

Or just burn the fekin lot


Who’d A Thought It

So its our 12th wedding anniversary and as usual neither of us has booked anything so I take it upon myself to sort. I spend 4 hours on the Tuesday before our anniversary being Saturday trawling round websites trying to find something not too posh and not too much like a travel lodge. Sounds an easy task but it appears everyone is getting married on the same day we did so I’m now struggling eek.

I eventually find somewhere and the write ups are not too bad.

So we are booked in for one night stay at the Who’d a thought it in Grafty Green, Kent,   now the panic begins…..

Those of you with kids, work, animals or an elderly parent will know to get one night away is almost impossible. So me and Mr F decide to have Friday off work in the hope we can get everything done leaving Saturday clear to sort Dad out.

Mad panic cleaning, washing, ironing, filling the cupboards and so forth takes place and by Friday evening we are both knackered. Saturdays here and we head up to Dads to do the weekly decrumbing, cleaning and so forth. Dad meanwhile has decided he is going to cook himself Sunday dinner, probably a good idea or the emo’ s will just feed him pizza or curry….

By 1 o’clock I’ve fed the emo’s, given them a masshossive list of instructions, walked the dogs so just the last min packing to do. Now not sure about anyone else but for one night away  I have one small case with clothes and shoes in, an overnight bag with make up, toiletries, hair straighteners, blackberry, iPod, camera, kindle and Mr F has a rucksack containing his iPad, blackberry and goodness know what else…. Oh just one more bag that has the most important stuff in, tea bags, milk, sweeteners, bottle of wine, lemonade, orange juice and some croissants, you never know as they say.

Car packed and we are just about to leave when little emo announces she needs, not wants but needs my hair straighteners now. So blazing row about why she needs to use my hair straighteners when she shouldn’t have blown her’s up and so on. Little emo announces that I am such a selfish Mother as she cannot possibly go out with her hair in such a mess, now at this point I resist the urge to point out that straightening her hair isn’t going to make her look any better, her hair is now violet and she looks like this minus the glasses and wrinkles.

Why on earth anyone would want to dye their hair this colour, I have no idea why, needless to say she has been unsuccessful in finding a job during the summer holidays.

Anyway where was I, oh yes… so I now have the raving hump and stomp off to the car, great start to our romantic night away.

It takes us about an hour to get to Grafty Green, Mr F has decided to take the scenic route through the Kent countryside assuming the greenery and rolling hills will calm me down 😉  Actually it was a bag of Harribo’s star mix that did it, I was quite aggressive with those damn fried eggs and as for the teddy bears, well …….. 🙂

We have arrived and its looks rather nice 🙂

We head inside and are immediately offered drinks on the terrace, oh why not eh… So there we are sipping drinks on the terrace when I hear a laugh that can only be described as sounding like mutley from Wacky Races. Me thinks this lady may have had too much champoo, some of the things she is saying are quiet rude. Her hubby disappears to the loo and while he’s gone she sits there and groans then sighs then a few arrhs, no idea why or whats causing her to make these noises but we are both relieved when her husband arrives back. Before he has sat down she announces she feels like a gooseberry… random.

So there we are sipping our drinks when 2 blonde girls go to leave, now the grunting lady has definitely had way too much champoo, at the top of her voice she says, I’m sure that hair on those WAGS isn’t real and neither is that tan. Both girls continue to walk on by and head to the car park. grunting lady is now craning her neck as she is desperate to see what cars they drive. First a silver Merc draws past the window goes down and the WAG proceeds to give the grunting lady the V sign, then a white Audi convertible stops and the WAG gets out and politely says to grunting lady, some people should be seen and not heard, in your case you shouldnt be seen or heard, she gets back in her car and drives off. Well I nearly choked on my drink, meanwhile grunting lady wasnt impressed and announces to her hubby its time they left.

The receptionist comes out and asks would we like to be shown our room now so off we toddle. I had booked the Ruinart room,

Contemporary room with Jacuzzi spa bath. 32″ flat screen TV, DVD, Freeview, Hi-Fi.

Includes half bottle of champagne and full continental breakfast.


In we go and the receptionists tells us that the leopard skin dressing gowns are to be used but mustn’t be taken away….oh my days I can’t look at Mr F because I wont be able to stop laughing ha-ha 🙂

In the fridge is a bottle of champagne and some chocs, Mr F opens it, I must have orange juice in mine or I will be drunk….

Time to try on the dressing gowns which happen to be extra-extra-large, so this is me… err please excuse the socks

Now time to try the jacuzzi bath, lots of bubbles in and eek……

So after much tom foolery and clearing up of bubbles we decide we really should go and eat.

We sit outside to have some pre dinner drinks and its a lovely evening. Mr’s ears prick up, he hears a Porche, that man is a nightmare and yep he is right a 911 with its roof down pulls into the car park closely followed by a battered old Toyota. Both cars stop the Toyota is parked behind some bushes while the 911 is parked in prime view. Out of the 911 hops a chap in his late 60’s with a young lady perhaps in her late 20’s, a similar couple come from behind the bushes where the Toyota is parked, I’m sure some people decide to co-ordinate on nights out, both men are wearing similar shirts, trousers and shoes, the lady’s both in long black dresses, sparkly sandals and D&G sungogs plonked on their heads. We end up on the table next to this lot, the chaps sit next to each other but the wives do not sit opposite their hubby’s, Mr F points out the footsie going on under the table…. Oh I say, from the conversation they are regulars at the restaurant and have eaten their way through the menu…..yawn fat gits 😉

The dining – breakfast room

Our waitress for the evening can only be described as Amy Whinehouse lookalike and as if on cue the background music plays back to black, I have to give mr F a quick kick under the table to stop him giggling. At one point she arrives at the table next to us with a load of sticky tape stuck to her bum, now I’m not cruel so I point it out to her and then end up having to pull it off her skirt, bless her she didn’t even bother taking it with her ha-ha.

For starters I have a tomato and feta salad, while Mr F has mackerel, for mains I have a flat-iron steak with dauphinoise, buttered seasonal veg and asparagus while Mr F opts for rib-eye with onion rings and chunky chips. I’ve never seen such a huge pile of onion rings and by god they must have come from big onions they were masshoosive ha-ha

It was all rather nom so with full bellies we decide to head back to our room. Mr F had downloaded a film on his iPad, The fantastic Marigold Hotel which we decide to watch well I say that but I  can’t remember a thing as we were both soundo within 10 mins of it going on… That’s the thing with busy lives and nights away all you want to do is sleep so no bedroom action for us, sorry I know too much information!

Morning arrives and we opt for showers as I’m not clearing up a mountain of bubbles again.

Breakfast was superb and I’m rather taken with the tea cosy on my teapot

I want this tea cosy

I know its sad, I don’t get out much haha

So with heavy hearts we head back to Frazzle Towers and its a bomb site, I’ve only been away for 24 hours

I spend the rest of my afternoon with henry the hoover clearing up and have to say I’m exhausted so much for being relaxed. I have yet to watch ‘Boxer Cam’ which is a camera we had installed when my boxer Mollie was ill so I could log in remotely and check on her, comes in handy now to catch the emo’s out….I’m sure that will be the next post 😉

So if anyone fancies a night away its a nice place to stay, the food is fantastic and its in the middle of nowhere, the rooms are themed, if you are feeling saucy the champagne and shoes room may just be for you……

It has  mirrors on the ceiling and a pole, will let you use your own imagination 😉

I not sure Mr F would be any good at pole dancing so I didn’t bother booking it 😉


Honeymoon in Kavos……… err where’s that then?

12 years ago today depending on when you are reading this it could be the day after so lets just say 21st July 2000, Mr F and I got wed. Having both been previously wed we decided not to go for the big do and just had a small do and yes we did both get divorced first.

Anyway wedding over honeymoon time…….

So we have a late night flight to Corfu, by the time we land in Corfu we have gone through the usual holiday domestics and we are not speaking to each other, we’ve been married less than a day….

Bags collected we get on the coach and off to Kavos. Now neither of us think that it’s a bit odd that the coach is full of groups of lads and lasses, we happen to be the only couple. As we enter Kavos at about 4.30am we notice random people sleeping on the side of the road and in fact the odd person in the middle of the road.

We arrive at our hotel and check into our room and its rather nice, ground floor room over looking the pool, we hit the sack because we are grumpy and extremely tired.

A few hours later we are woken by some grumbling outside our room. I open the curtains and am greeted by some rather drunk youths, one sleeping on an inflatable crocodile and the other writhing around with a female on an inflatable phone. Now at this point I close the curtains as my eyes are clearly deceiving me so I open the curtains again and yep they are still there. I immediately wake Mr F and announce there is a couple making whoopy on an inflatable phone outside our room, Mr F decides to promptly evict’s the youth off his inflatable crocodile, said other couple at this point decide that perhaps now would be a good time to leave…..

We head out after breakfast to explore Kavos, the Wiki blurb..

Kavos (Greek: Κάβος) is a former fishing village on the island of Corfu in Greece, in the municipal district and the municipality of Lefkimmi. It is now a lively resort heavily devoted to tourism, and popular with British package tours and young holidaymakers.

The main part of Kavos is the long strip which runs parallel to the coast line, which contains a large percentage of the restaurants, shops, hotels and apartments. It has a few bars along the coastline and has recently become popular with young holiday makers interested in socialising in a relaxing beach-side town and enjoying nightlife too.

Popular excursions include a visit to the nearby aqua park and boat trips around the coast. Those with a taste for culture should take a look at  the  island’s historic capital, Corfu Town, which is packed with interesting archaeological sights. Also, the interior of Corfu is worth exploring for those looking for some tranquillity it remains very unspoilt and uncrowded even during the peak season.The shopping in Kavos is limited to souvenir and bucket and spade shops selling the usual tourist little things. For more choice, there are regular buses to Corfu Town (half an hour away), which has an excellent range of shops.

So we expected this

And the reality was

Still not really getting it we head down to the beach and everyone is asleep….very strange!

After our a little siesta we decide to have a wander round to find somewhere to eat and perhaps have a few drinks.


This is what we found

After 3 nights we came to the conclusion if you can’t beat them join them……..

So evening 4 we head out and hit the nearest bar, every bar serves cheap booze so we down the red bull and vodkas, perhaps now is the time to point out I can’t actually drink much, one sniff and I’m gone. So after who know how many drinks because neither of us can remember but the deal was buy 2 get 2 free, Ive danced on tables, the bar, well I say dance I’ve probably made a huge tit of myself, actually scrap the probably and make it I did made a huge tit out of myself. At some point Mr F manages to steer me back to our hotel and I spend the night like this

I have developed a huge love for this toilet and spend the whole night hugging it, that night I loved that toilet!

Morning arrives and I’m still hugging the toilet, Mr F tries desperately but cannot entice me away for breakfast. I am oblivious to the youths outside our room laying on whatever inflatable thingy they have found, I really don’t care now.

By mid afternoon I have decided that perhaps I can finally let go of the toilet and we head down to the beach. God what a mistake that was, I am dehydrated, everything is still spinning and despite it being 28 degrees I’m feking freezing. Mr F is despatched to get me a blanket, so there I am on a beach its baking hot and I am wrapped up in a blanket.

Now either there is something wrong with my eye sight or Mr F has gone ginger, he wasnt ginger when I married him so I’m slightly confused…….Bingo sun in spray, thinking he would go blonde I’d been squirting his head at every opportunity and his hair now looks like this…

Being a lovely person I lie and tell him it’s not ginger, ill never go to heaven.

So for the next 24 hours me and my blanket go everywhere until Mr F decides I need to see a doctor. Kerching… £50.00 later I’m told I have alcohol poisoning and a chest infection, I really need a drip but refuse as we only have 2 days left. So for our £50.00 Im given some antibiotics and Mr F gets to push me and my blanket around in a wheelchair for the rest of our holiday.

Needless to say this was probably the crapiest holiday ever, it took me 6 weeks to recover and if I smell red bull now it makes me vomit.


Sometime later I went into the travel agent and challenged the woman who convinced me Kavos was a fabulous place to go on a honeymoon, she maintained she had no idea, me I’m not so sure…….


Is aloe vera toilet roll good for your bum

Gone are the days when I attracted the attention of anyone with their own teeth, a full head of hair and is under the aged of 75, I am obviously wearing eau du old biddie.

Why, no Idea but wherever I go they pop up.

Recently on a trip to Sainsbury’s to take Dad to do his weekly shopping I was stopped by an old couple in the loo roll section and was asked, Is aloe vera loo roll good for your bum. No longer do I look round to see if there is a hidden camera crew, this is normal life for me. After a lengthy conversation about the benefits of aloe vera and wrinkly bums they throw the loo roll in their trolley, off they go pleased with their purchase.

I turn round expecting to see Dad but he has disappeared, heck but we’ve been here before, always disappearing, that man is like a greyhound out of a trap when he wants to be. I find as usual Dad face down examining the cakes, phew. Someone needs to invent reins for old people to save wandering off moments, it works for kids….

The man caneeee resist a cake 😉

Due to unfortunate circumstances Dad is now dependant on myself and Mr F. So our lives revolve around Dad, I’m sure this is just parents revenge 😉 Everyday there is something that happens.

Yesterday I took him for a follow-up at the eye clinic after he had cataract surgery. Should have been straight forward but oh no, they had lost loads of patients notes so the clinic was backed up with irate biddies and me I was stuck in the middle of it all while Dad thought it was appropriate to keep saying, cue jumper, causing already irate biddies to revolt. They really should provide security guards.

So I spent nearly 4 hours picking up stuff these biddies kept dropping, pointing out fly’s were undone, fetching water, reciting the names called and so on, meanwhile Dad he just kept up saying cue jumper. Finlay we leave and get him home, I tell him I need to get to work so I’ll see him in then I’ll have to shoot. Oh no in we go, Dads says I’m putting the kettle on so now I’m stuck for another half an hour while he repeats himself.

Now please don’t think that I am being cruel but there are hundreds of elderly people being cared for by relatives and its hard work.

A sense of humour is essential

We pop in to see Dad every evening,  Mr F rings him every morning, he comes for tea on a Friday, we spend most of Saturday with him, decrumbing his house, filling the cupboards and so forth,  Sunday he comes for the day. At nearly 44 when my youngest is now 16 I should be child free, now I have an 83-year-old child to consider.

We can’t go anywhere unless we know where the toilets are.

Meals now consist of soft foods.

The heating is constantly on at 24 degree’s.

We can’t go on holiday unless we have a Dad sitter.

The tv is always blaring.

No one actually watches tv because Dad talks all the way through any decent programme.

Wearing odd socks is a sign of the days mood, if they are odd good mood, matching, bad mood.

Making sure he always has cash as trying to pay for petrol or anything else with a nectar card  means he needs rescuing.

Jelly and ice cream is always on my shopping list.

You ignore farting sounds.

I know my GP’s first name.

I have spent so much time in my Doctors surgery I have put suggestions in the suggestion box and read every magazine in there.

Everything happened yesterday.

Everything usually ends with, gets on my nerves.

You have to have at least one sensible car to ferry Dad around in.

Actually the list is endless, but on a funnier note here are some of the things he has said which make me smile and all the hard work is forgotten 🙂

I was in the garage and got into a bit of road rush with some yappies in their 4 by 2.

On the news last night they said some budgies had escaped from their ovaries.

That mans got dilemons.

Senile citizen’s get in for free.

Its turd wars just you wait and see.

Is that girl painting the shed again, in response to emo applying make up.

Why do they wear those jumper hoods.

I wasnt asleep I was playing hangman with my eyes shut.

No I haven’t had any cake and in the next breath, that cake you got me was lovely.

Why is she wearing one of those flip-flop things (thong).

That tripod will make her deaf.

I’ve forgotten my hearing aids, have been listening for them but beggar me If I know where they are.

That footballer has been saying things on twittler.

Whats that you say.

Pull my finger.

Life is never dull, hectic but not in the slightest bit dull and we do it because they are our parents and they in turn looked after us.

The one thing that scares me is I look at my emo’s and think eek they will be responsible for my care when I am old and a bit batty, perhaps I should just shoot myself now….

So this will probably be me in 40 years 🙂


Hello my name is Bert

And I am a Boxer dog. I am dictating this from the sofa to my uman Mum,  @frazzlymother or just general mad woman, BOL (Barking out loud)

I have a new friend his name is Baxter, Baxter has asked me to write a guest post on his blog :). My Mum keeps calling him Dexter but that’s not his name BOL. Baxter has a fabedoodle blog it’s called He is a rather handsome chap and like me has a bird’s-eye view of the madness, mayhem and utter silliness these umans get up to. I hope that our umans, TAKE NOTE,  @sthurley, and Mum you need to set up a looky see thingy so I can see Dexter, Baxter in real life and I can wave at him. Unfortunately I am not allowed to call him as I slobbered on the talky thing and Mum got it stuck in her hair,


So a little about me, I am a boxer dog and this is me

I am 6 years old now, 42 in uman years which makes me 1 year younger than Mum and 2 years younger than Dad, BOL sorry Dad. Apart from them two I live with big emo who is my sofa buddy when he is home, middle emo who sneezes lots and little emo who moans about me slobbering on her.  Apart from the umans I share Frazzle Towers with Mr Dinks the cat who is always in trouble for stealing fish out of the neighbours pond, a woolly mammoth with 4 legs that lives in a field, I am not allowed to play with him because he chases me and finally my little sister, Lulu the fuggly bottom burping British Bulldog,

Jeez she is just plain fuggly BOL.

So where was I, Oh yes that’s right. So this is the line up at Frazzle Towers. My favourite things in life are sleeping, Mum says I snore like a pig, I would like it noted that actually Lulu snores like a pig not me. Apart from sleeping I love my teddies, My Dad, sorry Mum, cheese, bacon, sausages, flinging slobber at everyone and everything and waving. Mum calls it waving but it’s actually boxing, when I see a skateboard or a scooter thingy, this terrible impulse kicks in and up on my back legs I go, my front paws start boxing uncontrollably. Mum gets very embarrassed by me and will tell passers-by, Oh Bert’s waving at you. I’m sure they think she is mad anyone can see I am a boxer dog and I am boxing not waving, stupid Mum. My sister is a huge trouble maker, she is always jumping on my head and drops the odd bottom burp at the same time, dats just nasty. Its great having her around as she gets blamed for everything and usually its her or Mr Dinks that’s behind the mischief. Oh hang on I’ve forgotten Grampy. Grampy is usually here at the weekends and sometimes he pops in to see me when the umans are all out. Grampy has a fabedoodle stomach cushion and I love lolling my head on it. I have aspersions of being a lap dog but Mum keeps saying I am too masshoosive for that, I take no notice a free lap is fair game in this house.

Life on this sofa can be very hectic, lots of comings and goings, my buddy Dexter,   Baxter and I have decided it’s about time we spill those beans, we have a cunning plan but I’m not allowed to tell Mum, oh what fun we shall have BOL.

Its time for me to head back to the sofa and make googly eyes at my Mum, its great looking this silly, everyone thinks I am rather daft, but I’m not 😉

Love Bert

PS, Friday its sausage night for me and Lulu, YAY


Two white vans and a tow rope

Thought it was about time I should write something about Mr F, today he gave me the perfect ammunition. So before I tell his tale of woe here’s a little bit of info about Mr F….

I’ve been married to Mr F for 12 years this month and I’ll bog about our honeymoon in Kavos later, yes I did say Kavos. I wish that I had met him years ago but didn’t so there you go. Mr F is a great guy but he has 2 faults that wind me up,

1, Patience – He has the patience of a saint when it comes to most things apart from driving, woe betide anyone that crosses him in his truck, god help you as this man invented road rage. I was once subjected to one of his frenzied outbursts, his red mist was so bad he hadn’t even registered it was his wife causing mayhem ahead.

2, His obsession with gizmos and gadgets. Our house is like the star ship enterprise, I have no idea how most things work in this house but we have everything from wonky vision (im sure that wonky vision is a wind up) to stuff in the clouds, boxer cam, remote detectors for everything.  If I get a text I have no idea what the heck it’s about. On the plus side all I have to do is press a button and music is bluetoothed to my hearing aid, bless ya Mr F. Mr F’s obsession of gadgets is also extended to his car, truck whatever it is.

So moving on,

Its time for Mr F to change his car, now this is the only one purchase that Mr F makes that I supervise. I will add I am insured to drive his car but I am not allowed as my right foot is too heavy and causes Mr F’s economy to go through the roof.

Off we go to the local dealership, car purchased with extras thrown in just to get rid of us. Delivery day arrives but unfortunately they have forgotten to put the side rails on and dog guard in, no problem they offer to pick the car up apparently its a 2 hour job so yet again no problem.

Phone call from the garage to say they will pick the car up from his work tomorrow and deliver it back later that day so all is well…..

Mr F is at work and the chappie hasn’t arrived by the promised 9.30 so Mr F is slightly tense as he has meetings and needs to leave the office by 2. Over the next two hours I get a number of calls from Mr F informing me that his car is still sitting in the car park and if they don’t hurry he wont make his meetings. Now I’m not sure if it’s just me but I resist the urge to state the bleeding obvious to him, why don’t you just call the garage. 2.30 arrives and I get a call from Mr F which goes something like this,

Mr F, My cars gone.

Me, Oh that’s good then.

Mr F, No it’s not.

Me Oh why’s that then.

Mr F, Because the bloke claims he left the garage at 9.00 and rocks up here at 1.45, couldn’t resist asking him where the fek he’d gone via.

Me, Oh what did he say.

Mr F, He had some errands to run. That’s not the best of it, they are keeping my car.

Me, Really, thought it was a 2 hour job.

Mr F, Well it’s not now and I’m not happy. I’ve only just programmed the car with addresses and so on, I’ve had to transfer the contents of my boot and now I’m running late.

Me, So they gave you a car then.

Mr F, Yes they did but when he pointed out it was the same as mine I had to tell him er it’s not, mine is black, that’s blue and if you look very closely that’s a different registration number to mine, in fact the only thing that is the same is it’s a feking diesel.

Now this is the point I usually say nothing and just make oh and ah noises as a sign of comfort. Never ever try to tell a man something is the same when it’s clearly not.

So off Mr F goes on his travels and arrives home later that evening grumpy because that’s not his car, truck on the drive. Next morning Mr F is still grumpy and off he goes, now his journey usually takes him about an hour but by an hour and a half later has hasnt rung. I eventually get the call and it went like this,

Mr F, Did you get to work ok.

Me, Yep, you.

Mr F, Had a bit of trouble on the way in.

Me, What did you do.

Mr F, Well, I was stuck in traffic and this white van pulled out in front of me, that’s ok I can let the odd van out.

Me, You must be tired then this morning, not usually like you letting traffic out.

Mr F, That’s not the best of it, the van in front stopped very suddenly and the weird thing was another white van appeared from nowhere and nearly rammed me up the arse.

Me, Ah well it’s not your car so don’t worry about it.

Mr F, No listen I’m trying to tell you, I havent finished yet. 2 blokes jumped out of the van in front and another 2 from the van behind me.

Me, Oh god, what did you do this time.

Mr F, Well I got out didn’t I, one of them was giving it large amounts of verbal and I’m not having that.

Me, Er why was he giving you verbal if you let him out.

Mr F, Well that’s what I thought so I gave him a load back and it wasnt until he picked this rope up and said I’m feking towing the van behind you moron that the penny dropped.

Me, What.

Mr F, I was sandwiched between 2 vans the one behind me being towed by the one in front of me.

The scene that Mr F described is chaos, Mr F is stuck between 2 white vans, 3 blokes are shouting at him, 1 is wiggling a tow rope in his face meanwhile there is a huge roadblock behind them so lots of irate people and tooting of horns.

Me, Lets just say lots of snorting, hysterical laughter and so on.

Mr F, It’s not funny, we had this huge argument about him not having a sign saying he was towing and the fact the rope he was using was far too long.

Me, What did he say.

Mr F, Dunno, I got in the car and drove off but he was still giving me hand gestures as I was going down the road.

Now this isn’t the end of the story because this car doesn’t belong to Mr F, it belongs to one of the salesmen, who might I add has been subjected to rather a lot of verbal abuse and road rage by 2 white vans. So when Mr F gets a phone call this morning from the sales chappie who questions Mr F as to whether he had any issues while driving his car, Mr F pleaded ignorance and blamed the driver who collected his car. 🙂