Life really does go backwards at 40

Always look on the bright side of life…

As bits of the song goes….
Some things in life are bad
They can really make you sad
Other things just make you swear and curse

And to be honest… Life can be a very big pile of poo no matter how you dress it up
So why is that, I hear you ask
They say life begins at 40, really, why and more to the point, why did mine feel it needed to go backwards a month before I had hit the big 40?

One afternoon on a sunny ish November afternoon in 2008 I was bumbling along the twisty hilly Kent lanes in my lovely convertible Mini otherwise known as Boris the Minji, an early 40th birthday prezzie from my rather lovely better half, when I came across an accident in front of me.
I left a car’s length in front of me and in my bumbling mood was considering ‘should I to do a u-turn’. Putting the Minji into first gear and about to do a ‘u-ey’, I noticed a green Clio come flying down the hill hurtling rather fast towards me, unfortunately said green Clio was hurtling rather too quickly and one was unable to shift one arse out of its way when…bang!
When they say your life flashes before you it’s very true, I could see the car hurtling towards me almost in slow motion and could do didly squat to avoid it mounting me Minji.
The other thing they say is red mist and adrenaline doesn’t mix, that’s also true as the young lady driving the Clio soon found out…
Flinging open the door of the Minji, bouncing, I say bounce as this is probably the best description for my behavior. I bounce round the back at lightning speed to assess the damage and yup its clearly broken and looks rather expensive, I turn and face the Clio driver and you guessed it…red mist!
I would like to point out before I go on I am not usually a person that swears, I favour the alternative swear words like, fudge, flipping ying yang, feck and so forth however, I can say my Mother would have been ashamed of me…
Before she had time to get the words ‘I am sorry’ or terminate the call that she was on causing her to not pay attention to the queue of stationary traffic in front of her, I started…
Look, what the *&@(&^%&:@) have you done to my @&^%$* car you $%$^&* bimbo, you do know you shouldn’t ^%&**& drive and use a mobile phone you *&^%^&.
Not really giving the Clio driver a chance to respond she started to mutter and I heard the word “sorry”
Sorry, what the *&^*^**. I’ll give you %$*&^% sorry and with that she started to hobble up the hill away from me, to be honest this only made me worse…..
Striding after her and shouting, Get *%^$^& get back here, Im not $%^**&^ finished with you yet &*&^&(((*&*^%^.
Fast forward 1 hour, the Clio driver is taken away in an ambulance with a suspected broken leg.
Me, I was given a lift home in a Police car by a rather sympathetic officer as there was a shortage of ambulances and everyone thought that it wasn’t a sensible idea putting me and the Clio driver in the same ambulance, I gave the ambulance man my assurance I would attend A&E or at the very least see my GP.
Boris the Minji was taken away for assessment and was never the same again…
Had I known then what I know now I would have probably sworn more, perhaps thrown a few things at the Clio driver or even placed a curse on her, you think that’s a bit harsh? Believe me a broken leg, a careful driver awareness course and 3 points is getting off lightly in comparison!
I escaped the accident with whiplash and a prolapsed disc however I now realise the trauma from this accident was the catalyst of where it all started to go wrong.
Fastforward to Jan 2013.
Prior to the Clio mounting the Minji incident I hadn’t been someone that got ill or visited the Doctors.
In the period between Dec 2008 – Jan 2013 I had everything going, flu, migraines, sciatica, rashes, back pain, neck pain, tired all the time, lost weight and put on weight, in fact you name it and I probably suffered with it, I even had my own chair in the Doctors surgery.
I woke up one morning in Jan 2013 and my right foot was swollen, not thinking much about it I went off to work and carried on for a few weeks as you do until it got to the point it started turning blue. So off I go again to the Doctors, I am sent for 2 lots blood tests and x-rays to test for arthritis..Oh the joys of getting old.
All the tests come back clear so I was referred to an orthopedic surgeon.
Unfortunately he didn’t really have a clue either but booked me in for a scan and told me to wear an aircast boot, the boot was to stop me walking, working, driving, actually it was to stop me doing anything, however I carried on whilst waiting for the scan.
I was fortunate to have a scan and see the surgeon at the same time, the scan didn’t show anything apart from fluid, possibly blood but he wasn’t sure and due to the pain and swelling he suggested I have steroid injections to see if that helps.
Oh my days I thought giving birth was painful…jeez I cried like a baby….
Needless to say I went through the pain of have 6 injections in my foot for nothing; back I go to see the consultant in March who suggested another blood test, what am I a pin cushion.
A week later a letter arrives from him which I read, re read and re read again…
The letter tells me that I need to see a haematologist as the blood tests show I have a high platelet count, high HB, red cell count is high and HCT is also high, armed with the letter off I go back to see my Doctor.
This time I manage to see my usual Doctor, I hadn’t been able to see her the during the foot episode, she reads the letter and checks the 2 lots of blood tests taken at the surgery, shock, horror (sarcasm) it would appear no one checked anything other than the results for arthritis, platelets, HB, RBC and HCT had been high for some time.
Having trained as a nurse when I was a youngster and hearing I was being referred to the local hematology/oncology/cancer center for further testing I was slightly alarmed.
The day of the appointment arrives and there I sit surrounded by cancer and leukemia patients still trying to figure out what the fudge I am doing here. Blood is taken and I am told to sit and wait for around 20 mins while they wait for the results. 20 mins, wow it normally takes a week to get the results as the surgery…
My name is called and I am taken into a room, I hear some words and have to ask the consultant to repeat what she has just said.
I think you have essential thrombocythemia ‘ET’ she repeats, what’s that I ask….
It’s a form of blood cancer, quite rare but a chronic illness which has the ability to turn into terminal leukemia she states.
In these circumstances it’s normal to spout utter complete rubbish and in my case I state, I only went to the Doctors for a swollen foot!
I am reassured that at the moment it’s not conclusive and I shouldn’t Google ET, a further sample of blood needs to be sent to Cambridge for genetic testing, I will need to have a scan of my spleen and then a bone marrow biopsy.
Off I go for a scan of my spleen, then I go for a bone marrow biopsy which quite frankly flipping hurts and wasn’t on my list of things I must do when I reach 40+!
2 weeks later I am back and this time see the head honcho who quite frankly has the bedside manner of the grim reaper.
So in April 2013 I am told I have a faulty gene called JAK2+ and the ET is closely related to and considered by many to be a type of cancer. I am told some consider it to be a chronic leukemia, others consider it to be a preleukemic disorder. Either way the disorder closely mimics what happens in cancer or leukemia with the copying and spreading of damaged or immature cells. Oh great what chance do I have if you can’t make your mind up what it is…
I am told I can look forward to, headaches, vision changes, weakness, fatigue, numbness, freezing hands and feet, nose bleeds, bleeding gums, memory loss, TIA’s, blood clots just to name a few joys of having ET, oh well at least it explains the last 5 years.
I am given some aspirin, handed a leaflet on leukemia, given a telephone number for the cancer nurse, told to come back in 4 weeks and am still quite confused as to whether I have cancer or leukemia….
Four weeks later back I go, bloods taken and I wait to see which happy smiley faced Consultant I get. Oh they joys it’s the grim reaper again…

My blood isn’t behaving, my platelets are on the up and told I will have to start chemotherapy tablets to try and eradicate the excessive amounts of platelets, it’s explained as though it’s an inconvenience and feel I need to have a stern talking with my bone marrow telling it to behave, or, actually I am not sure what I should threaten it with!
Armed with a bag of chemotherapy tablets I am told, not to let anyone touch them, if a capsule should happen to explode..What the fudge!, basically I have to don a boiler suit and adopt cleaning procedures for cleaning of bio chemical hazardous waste. If that is not bad enough I am told to expect the following, hair falling out, tiredness, sickness, say good bye to my immune system and so on.

Oh the joys, remind me again why I need to take this because at this moment in time I feel pretty pants without adding to the list, the final blow I am given by the grim reaper, the medication I have been given can cause ET to mutate into terminal leukemia.

If I were a horse I would be put down…

4 weeks later back I go everything is still on the up and my foot is still swollen so I am referred to yet another specialist, this time it’s a vascular surgeon to check my veins.

Various scans, tests and it appears I have a blood clot in my toe, thankfully not a DVT just a clot in the small veins, oh well that’s okay then. Warfarin is suggested and more blood is sent off.
Back I go again and it appears not only do I have ET, I have autoimmune issues, Raynaurd’s is diagnosed, possibly Lupus or something similar too but further tests need to be done.

So here we are in Feb 14 a year after I went to see my Doctor with a swollen foot, I now have ET which could be cancer or leukemia depending on who you ask, it’s not terminal, its chronic however has the ability to morph into a terminal illness, I have a clotting disorder on top of ET which is still being investigated, I have Raynaurd’s caused by another autoimmune condition which has yet to be identified and will be on chemotherapy for life be it tablet or injection form.

Every day is a struggle; I have gone from being extremely independent to relying on everyone around me for the simple things in life.
I long to do the things I took for granted like, walking the dogs, go for a ride, spend hours wandering round the shops with my Emo’s, write a few chapters of the next book, read a few chapters of a book or just wake up and not feel exhausted before the day has even started.

In my head I am not ill, I do not look ill, if you met me in the street and didn’t know me you wouldn’t guess I was ill.
I have a brain/body conflict going on, some may say its denial, my brain tells me I can get up and go to work every day, come home and do the normal things everyone else does, the reality is I get up, go to work and by lunchtime I am exhausted but I push myself on because I don’t want to be ill or dependant on anyone.

I want to be me, the old me.

I don’t want people feeling sorry for me, I just want people to understand that sometimes I can’t do things, won’t be able to reply, spend time and if it bothers you then its time you found a new friend.

So for me the car crash was the start of life changing and going backwards, but as they say life is what you make it and I am not quite finished yet.

Today is world cancer day and I wanted go public and tell my story to highlight there are many forms of cancer.
I remain hopefully that a cure will be found for not just the type I have but for everyone suffering so please show your support in whatever way you can.


Frazz x


My teenage fashion faux pars

How good did we think we looked when we were teenagers?

We thought we were the bee’s knee’s and to be completely honest I had some serious fashion faux pars!

In the early 80’s I was 14, weighed about 6st wet, size 2 and was straight up and down apart from the hair which was big and looked a bit like Leif Garratt, whatever happened to him….don’t ask!


Chatting with a friend recently I remembered my first pair of red stilettos, I saved up money to buy them from money I was given for babysitting. Oh my days I adored those shiny red patent 3 inch shoes however I couldn’t walk in them. Thinking back I staggered, although in my mind I was convinced my walk was up there with the top cat walk models.


The place to be as a 14 year old was Ulceby Disco, which happened to be the next village along from where we lived.


The Disco was held in the above village hall every Tuesday and the entrance fee was 20p. Everyone at school would spend the week discussing what we would wear, the red stilettos got an outing combined with my hair fluffed up to the biggest it could be, drain pipe jeans with white piping down the side, remember those? A black batwing jumper which had a repeat pattern of cerise roses and this was finally topped off with a red batwing leather jacket to match the shoes, you guessed it……fashion faux par!


The following week the red shoes got another outing to Ulceby Disco this time combined with a bright red rara skirt, a white blouse with lots of ruffles and yes the red leather jacket came out again. You guessed correct……another fashion faux par!


I then discovered monkey boots after spending hours looking in Chelsea Girl, remember that shop?

At the time I was really into Adam and the Ants, oh my goodness I don’t think swoon is the right word….

The rara skirl got another outing this time combined with a white t-shirt with the Ant logo on, black tights, monkey boots and not a sign of the red leather jacket no this time a Harrington jacket. Yep another fashion faux par!


However the back of my jacket had been personalised, I spent hours embroidering the Ant logo on the back of the jacket, I loved that jacket and unfortunately a few weeks later it was stolen from the Disco.

Later that year and as part of my French studies I was selected for our school exchange. My paired student Fabrice arrived with his French fashion, tight brightly colored clothes, lots of scarves and hair gel. Fabrice it would appear came from a very strict family, he wasn’t allowed much freedom and decided to make the most of his time away from home and flaunt every rule the school or his exchange students parents gave him.
So with Friday approaching and my Mother driven mad by me begging to let me go to the Disco, I remember suggesting to my Mother that Fabrice could stay with her, I would have sold my soul to be allowed to go to the Mecca that was Ulceby Disco, not much happens in villages….

Off we went, me this time in a Jumper dress, footless tights and the monkey boots, Fabrice in a velvet jacket, jeans and a multitude of scarves we both thought we looked fabulous.


Unfortunately Fabrice was sent back home to France the next day, bless him I am not sure how or who served him in the village pub but a 14 year old French exchange student who lost the ability to speak any English when drunk wasn’t a usual sight in the wilderness of Lincolnshire or Humberside, can’t remember when it changed from Lincs to Humbs back to Lincs…
Unfortunately due to Fabrice’s behavior I wasn’t allowed to go and stay with his family and experience the French fashion scene, I was banned from the Disco for 2 months as my Mother thought I should have looked after our guest and been a better ambassador!
As a sweetener I was given some money to shop and oh my days you’ve guessed it fashion faux pars at its best however I never felt the need to wear a shell suit, I was in fact banned from owning, borrowing or wearing one because my Mother considered them to be a fire hazard!


I now look at my teenage daughters and some of things they wear, I just sigh, I’ve been there, done that and just wish I had kept the t-shirt…..


Home for the holidays

Woo hoo I’m through to the next round so thank you, thank you and thank you muchly for continuing to vote every week for me

Frazzlebys at the airport

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 🙂


My week at work

Rather than try to type my frustrations I have decided my blog will be in pictures…

There have been a few of these moments

Followed by thoughts of


So my word of the week has been

Because I want to do this

But do this instead



So I look like this

So I’ve drunk loads of this

But it hasn’t

So I’ve done lots of this


And I am reminded that

And someone suggests I read this

Which makes me think

And I find I keep wanting to

But  I must

but all too soon I will be back to this


There I’ve said it now


Thank you soldier

Something I read earlier made me extremely sad, so very cross and ashamed to be British, it was a story about an x soldier who like many is homeless and his one saving grace he still has a car so is not forced to sleep on the street. What is the matter with our government and this country, get a grip for gods sake. I appreciate some of you may not agree with the politics behind war but these people have given us their all and some have paid the ultimate price, their life and for what to be treated like scum.

Most of my family have spent a large proportion of their lives serving this country, my Son is in the Army and due back out to Afghanistan early next year, yes its his choice as it is for many of those serving in our armed forces however for some it is a last resort it’s either a life on benefits or the armed forces. I will never forget how young some of those lads were on his passing out parade they were boys, nor will I ever forget the haunted faces from those that returned in one piece be it physically from their tour of Afghanistan. My Son will never be the same along with so many others.

Over the years I have been privileged to meet many Mothers, Fathers, Wives, Husbands and siblings of those that have not returned from war, have returned but have been severely injured or suffering from post traumatic stress and quite frankly I am ashamed at the way some of these hero’s have been treated. Do they complain no they get on with life accepting the hand that has been dealt. So how is it that a baby machine can churn out child after child to avoid getting a job, is given a house and money to live on yet someone who has served this country is forced to sleep in a car? Simple we are more concerned about these people and their needs, we must help them, why? What have they done for this country apart from take, take, take, where is the give in this? Do you hear our soldiers complaining their kids don’t have the latest trainers or 50 inch TV, NO and nor would you, they have pride.

What can our soldiers expect when they are either forced to quit due to down sizing of our armed forces or have served their time? a very small training allowance to assist in their rehabilitation into civilian life. This budget is inadequate full stop. Most are trained  for nothing other than to defend and protect so their prospects are limited, this is why so many end up on the streets, tossed aside and treated like scum.

I know this post will not change reality but if it makes you stop and think or go up to a soldier and thank them or offer some form of support to one of the very many charities that are fighting so hard to support these very brave and courageous people, they deserve our support even just a thank you shows you care. Yes ultimately these lads and lasses made their own choice, a choice which allows us to travel around and feel safe, to watch the Olympics and feel safe, do you hear them complaining when their leave has been cancelled and they cannot go on holiday with their children? No this is their job, to serve and protect this country.

Surely they deserve the same rights as us and to feel protected, supported and safe?


Memory of a pea…….

Its hit me I am getting old, things are not what they used to be or in my case not where they should be, so here are my symptoms
I’ve started calling my best friend of 20 years thingy
My car has started moving itself from where I left it
I can paint a picture of it, draw a diagram or demonstrate how to use it to Olympic standard but be beggared if I can remember the damn things name
When I get to the bottom of the stairs I cannot remember for the life of me if I was going up or I’ve just come down
When I do figure it out I can’t remember what I was going up or coming down for
I answer  my phone when it’s actually a phone ringing on the TV
When I do go out its to restaurants or pubs that don’t play music purely so I can hear what people are saying
I ring someone and when they answer I’ve  forgotten, who I was calling and why I am calling them
I’ve started wearing knickers that could double as a parachute rather than the bikini style
My get up and go has got up and gone without me………………… 😉

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 🙂


Mr Frazzle has created a new Avi for me

I do hope you like it, I think the likeness is remarkable

And here is one of me with Frazzly dogs outside Frazzly Towers

 Mr F truly has excelled himself and will be treated to ‘favourite dinner’ 🙂


Actually thinking about it if I turn round my bum will look masshoosive 😦


Things I love

Gregg’s sausage rolls

Fabric conditioner

Tea, tea and more tea please

Fresh cream, I can drink it straight from the pot

My fuggly dogs although only one is of the fuggly kind the other looks like Bambi

My bed I just don’t get enough quality time with it

Online food shopping

Cancel phone call button

Egypt, im sure I was Egyptian in a past life

My natural ability to come out with spoonerisms at the wrong moment in time

Snow so I can work from home although my employers might disagree with this one

Mr F but he does drive me mad

Loud music when I’m driving

My slipper boots, bit tatty now as they are always on my feet


I will say my emos although there are times when I don’t like them


Mollie Moo although now at rainbow bride I still love her lots

An empty house although this is rare

My GHD’s that are currently hidden to stop emos borrowing them

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