Woke up uglier than yesterday

Lucky you Lessismore, a trophy vagina ....

And CaroDane, buy some vanishing cream : all your problems solved

BradfordLass72 On second thoughts you're invited to lemon and i's party too, but take the Reliant Robin tag off your fob or we'll know whose keys they are.

I'm struggling here trying to get the Medi Alert tag off Great Dane's ring, might have to get a rubber glove for a better grip.

Ninarosa Excellent idea. I'll get some tomorrow and start rubbing it on Gt Dane.
( although some bits have apparently already vanished as the last time I saw one of them was Christmas 1988)

Forgot to mention I think there's a problem with the church cleaning rota as I noticed a lot of little black spiders when I was sitting on the pew (unless I've got the DT's due to my excessive fondness for Black Tower) during the funeral.

Just this minute I've felt something strange and picked two ants off my head!
I suspect this is down to Gt Dane knocking the pillow cases off the airer again outside.

Anyone know if ants can live permanently on your head or if there's any more will they wash off when I next shampoo?

Talking of beards, I caved in and cut Mr namsnanny's hair and beard today.
In reply to EllanVallen's post I took my revenge.

To explain, I was in a stand off with him over using (and ruining) my dressmaking scissors.

I ignored his growing locks, (even though I cant stand the orangutan look), so he upped the stakes in retaliation, and grew a beard.
Apparently he resembled Nicole Kidman to much, (gingerish) and just had to grow a beard, as he couldn't cope with the impending paparazzi attention.

I hate a beard, on him anyway, (which he knows) so 4 weeks later I've attacked him with some blunt shears.

He now has a basin cut, and a few lumps shorn from the thickest part of the hirsute chin.

Nicole Kidman eat your heart out!

CaroDane I missed your company today, and I would have come back sooner to see how your pimpley hooter was getting on.
But my beloved was a little narked with me about his new look, and disappeared whilst out shopping, for an hour.

He turned up in a coffee shop all smiley and friendly, chatting to everyone there.

Introduced me as his hairdresser

On reflection, there was a very flirty lady with a limp and a fetching bloody toe.
Spoke with an attractive Yorkshire accent.....hmmmmmm, remind you of anyone Bradfordlass72?
I know, I know, its the ginger beard it sends you wild .
I'll forgive you this time.

Now back to your poor throbbing conk. Have you tried ibuprofen gel, it reduces inflammation?

I was thinking of putting some inside Mr Nnanny's underwear.

He's wandering around here looking far to smug and its annoying!

Nighty night

Lessismore
Just Googled Kim Bodnia. He's a hunk ?

Namsnanny I will take your suggestion under advisement as I know I've got some in the medicine box. And you and Mr NN are defo invited to lemons party. Inflammation in the lower regions and a need to reduce swelling always drives lemongrove wild! No wonder Mr Lemon always has such a smile on his face. Showing something that are few and far between in this house.
TEETH.

Leave your new hairdressing scissors at home though.
I can understand your miffness (?) over him misusing your dressmaking scissors as they cost a fortune and need careful shielding to retain their sharpness. I gave up with mine as Great Dane used them to cut wallpaper when he did the hall landing and stairs.

Speaking of inflammation down there ( I wasn't, you were, we all are now) today began with an even worse horror story than usual...

I have to confess to suffering from anal retention (if you're of a delicate nature you may wish to put your hands over your ears now, and also your eyes, that's if you were unfortunate enough to be born with four hands to start with but then you wouldn't be able to hold your phone. SORRY I digress) an ailment I only developed after about a month of marriage to Great Dane and finding out,
A) He would do better living in a public lavatory with a bedroom attached as he's in and out there 24/7. and
B) He is genetically incapable of putting an effing lock on the toilet door.

This sequence of events mean I, and any family or visitor have to be extremely quick when visiting what is definitely the little boy's room or you are liable to be dragged face forward off the pan holding the doorknob while wrestling Gt Dane who is determined to open the door and relieve himself.

The downstairs loo in this house is SUPPOSED to be mine as I can't manage the stairs. Of course Lazyarse conveniently forgets this and uses whichever he is nearest.

I often think if Gt Dane had only mastered the gift of bi location like the great saints (thinking here of Padre Pio) he'd probably be able to use BOTH our toilets at once.

Anyway due I think to the hot weather and binge watching 90 Day Fiance (both ways) old episodes of The Chase and repeats of University Challenge so I can drool over Paxman has caused drainage problems.
It's not only my spot that's been made of solid rock, sad to say.

Knowing last night drastic action was called for I drank half a mug of Milk of Magnesia at bedtime.
This did not sit well with my earlier crisp feast and bottle of Black Tower. I am blaming that as I usually drink Blossom Hill Fruity if I can't get hold of a Blue Nun.

This morning after a night of much churning and gurgling, a clear and urgent need for evacuation arose.
I grabbed my frame and headed for the bathroom only to find Great Dane already in there.
Can you hurry up?
Answer.
No.
I head for the stair lift. Why is it that the faster you want something to move, the slower it goes (am sure lemongroveis an expert in that)

The urge now is getting worse and I'm not even round the bend at the top of the stairs. (The stair lift has never been the same since one of the GC amused himself at Easter sending the cylinder vaccy up and down on it all afternoon. Don't ask me why - my DD was pleased it kept him off the X Box they'd brought with them.)
I'm seething, something else is bubbling.
By the time I get to the bottom I'm in crisis, then I have to transfer to my wheely frame and hurtle down the hall to the downstairs lavvy.

With only seconds to spare before the inevitable happened I was happily enthroned. As the great Bard wrote "All's Well that Ends Well".

This didn't.
Gt Dane had used all the toilet paper.

Grandma so so I love you what a great lady

*Is that you lemongrove, been on the wine gums again?

Think that message could be the secret code SirChenjin suggested on the AIBU Angry with My Other Half thread. I'll have to see if I can decipher it using my Penguin Crossword Dictionary later.
Ameliarose I love you too sweetheart whoever you are

so so, is that a Chinese term of affection?

Lessismore strongly suspect she's missed the AND out the middle of it

CaroDane It could have been the ferrets, I thought no one knew about them <shamed>

But now you know why I had to decamp from the North and flee to New Zealand - pursued by at least one, big, bearded Dutchman.

Despite his pleading and the ownership of a restaurant and country club (his, not mine) I still fled.

Must admit his profiteroles were rather tasty.

BradfordLass72 New Zealand? Is that where you're hiding out?
Well since the weather is so bad here (scalding hot smog) I'm delighted to accept your offer of a free holiday so I can sponge off you for two weeks. I expect you to plan a full holiday itinerary for me though, with trips out to all the Lord of the Rings locations.
Can you get a mobility scooter up the side of Mount Doom?

And send me the address of your flying Dutchman. If you don't want him, I do.
(providing Great Dane is up for a threesome, he still thinks its a type of chocolate bar similar to a KitKat.)

BradfordLass72 I've just heard you were forced out the UK because your bedroom exploits with that Dutch bloke caused all that seismic disturbance in Lancashire, the ones they blamed fracking for.

Not a coincidence there's been a lot of earthquakes in NZ since you got there I bet!!

Yes, you northerners really know how to make the earth move, with generations of you manhandling those cotton looms, raucous ferret racing, and lock ins down pit with only a canary and a pint of stout for company. You had to do something to pass the time I suppose.

Am sorry to say this, but you are an expat tart. A sordid export from the old country, like football hooligans and David Beckham.

I'm so disgusted on reflection, that we'd better make my trip three weeks if I can find someone who'll mind Great Dane. Plus you sound minted, so can you cover the cost of my plane ticket too?

Not one person has asked me how my spot is today!
Not one!
You rotters, too distracted by drooling over Macron at the G7 on breakfast news!

This one's a lingerer. It was smaller and redder but now it's come back and is expanding.
If I close my left eye and squint I can see it's raised profile on the side of my nostril. ( A bit like those weird pictures of interchangeable vases and witches faces you used to see in Tit-Bits)

The postman, after he recovered from the shock of me opening the door for the second hand Max Bygraves CDs I bought from Amazon, has suggested Preparation H.
So I'm going to give that a go later on. Time will tell. Desperate times call for desperate remedies!

It’s spooky how well you know me Caro ?
I am always up for a party and a bottle of Blue Nun ( I have so many bad habits .....boom boom!)
How is your nose today, dear one? Any better? Did you dab it with Jeyes last night as I advised?
Yes, Max Bygraves CD’s would give anyone a shock, did you give the poor postie a brandy?

Do you serve expat tart with custard or cream??

Don’t be too smug Lessismore about your trophy vagina,
I suspect that most of us on here have one, so there! ?

Try an antihistamine tablet, if it's a bite it might settle it down

lemongrove thank you for sending commiserations but I always think money is better

Had run out of Jeyes as I daren't keep it in the cupboard in case Great Dane has one of his turns at full moon.
I have to lock him in the coal shed at Mabon, as he's like a raging animal.
He's never been the same since he overdosed on the Night Nurse when he was watching The Wicker Man.

I've seen him with my own eyes (my own two piggy bloodshot eyes) standing in the garden with his arms raised, silhouetted against the moon like ET on that stupid bicycle.

Mind you he said he'd been caught short when he was having a fag outside and was watering my sweet peas.

As for a trophy V, modesty forbids any woman my age to even write the word as we didn't even know what one was until 1952... I couldn't imagine anything worse. Its bad enough plucking a chin hair out without getting reimagined down below

Sleepygran I've already had that suggestion once but even with a chunk of Blue Tac to secure it, the Piriton kept falling off my nose.

When the nurse with the speculum said about my trophy I was made up.. disappointed to find it's only a bronze.

Shock horror here as the phone lines are red hot (thanks to Open Reach for delays installing the superfast broadband) with news that yet another of our unhappy geriatric band of brothers, sisters, and gransexuals has fallen by the wayside. More unhappy news....what a sad week this has been because of my sore spot oh yes and the other funeral of course.

The shock is not over the passing, the deceased is/was extremely ancient and it was expected, but over the timing!

This unfortunate family (newcomers to our area) have chosen THURSDAY!!!
This may mean nothing to you, dear reader, but it certainly does here.

True story (lemongrove the doubting Thomas of the Argy please note!)

Picture if you will the solemn scene of a funeral procession. The hearse is loaded. The flowers tastefully arranged on the casket. Grieving relatives peer out the windows of the limousines. We, the neighbours, (leaning heavily on our walking sticks, frames, and assorted rollators) solemnly lower our eyes.
The cortege moves off, very slowly, as the chap from the Co-op is walking in front of the hearse. Great Dane and I cross ourselves and prepare to get in the car to follow.
BUT
by the time we have fastened our seat belts, it's clear there is a problem.
IT'S THURSDAY!

So now the Bin Wagon has come round the corner and due to vans parked at the end of the road blocking both the driver's line of sight and any possibility of safely reversing out again, the cortege comes to a grinding halt. The only sound the deafening grind of wheelie bins being emptied. It's a Mexican stand off.
Everyone gapes in horror before of course, the sound of a snigger can be heard ( yes, I confess it was me).

There followed an increasingly agitated conversation between the chap on foot and the driver of the Bin Wagon. Much waving and much shaking of heads, and then the long walk back to the limousines with an extended and earnest conversation conducted through a half open window. Then a brief visit to every vehicle behind the first. Then the slow reversal starting at the back like watching the rewind of a dvd.
What seemed like an age later, everything is lined up once more in a different direction, the other end of the street is luckily a T junction, and it all starts off again.

Thursday - bin day

Are you in a different time zone over there Caro?