Saturday, 15 November 2008


I told you in an earlier blog that I don't talk about my family much. Some are more important to me than others, and you'll know why if you read on.
When I moved over to blog spot I never told my Mum, and as far as she knows, she just thinks, I've not been blogging. My Sis told her I had a blog, and at the time I was none too pleased as my Mum used to ring every time I wrote to add her two penneth. 
Tonight I sat down with my dinner on my tray, a glass of chilled wine and started to watch the X Factor, it's my little routine on a Saturday night. If Phil's working, we have this joke as you can be sure as can be, that as soon as I sit down to eat, he'll ring me.

I was sitting eating my dinner and the phone rang. I picked it up and said, 'told ya, you must have E.S.P. as I'm eating my dinner and watching the X factor'. The TV was up loud as I hadn't turned it down and I started laughing as I thought it was Phil. 
I heard this person talking, it wasn't him, it was my Mum to tell me that her Mother had died.
She'd seen me on line and tried to message me, but I wasn't about. She's left a message on my mobile but it wasn't in the room.

I now have this awful feeling of guilt................... This guilt is not because of my Grand Mother dying, it's because that I didn't get my Mother's messages.

What you need to understand was that my Grand Mother, was never my Grand Mother. My Mother was born out of wedlock and at a young age was sent to live with relatives and then sent to an all girls boarding school in Edinburgh, Scotland. 

When we were little I saw her but knew her as an Aunt. My Gran and Grandad were known as Aunt Beat and Uncle Mark. My Brother and I never knew them as our Grand parents and when we did see them, they were cold toward us and we hated it.

When we were much older, my Mum told us that they were our Grand Parents, by this time, 'Uncle Mark' had died. We always knew something was strange as why did we always have to visit people we never really liked just for the sake of it?

I have known that my Grand Mother has been ill for years now, blind and in a wheel chair. My Mother asked on numerous occasions that we visit her but every time we say no.
She never acted like my other Nan, who I still miss to this day, so why should I? My brother felt the same.

I now have this tremendous guilt and feel that I need to support my Mum. I'll, do what ever she wants, but it still won't take away the feeling that she was never my Nan.
They say blood is thicker than water, but on this occasion, give me water any day.

Gaz x


Hello All,
Some of you have asked me why there's a content warning when you click on my blog. I dunno really, but what I will say is, I sure hope no one's eating while reading this entry, or you'll have to suffer the consequences, when you see the contents of your stomach on your key board. So be warned! 
Well, it's that time of the month when me and the man have our little shaving party. Yup that's right. Some of you with the most sordid minds are conjuring up all manner of filth and a few years ago you may have been right, but now? Sweet fanny adams! For my over sea's readers that's the Brit way of saying F*** all politely!

Both of us used to be blessed with wonderful barnet's, that's cockney for Barnet fair, hair! I've always gone for men with dark hair, if its curly its a bonus and Phil had the darkest curliest hair of anyone I knew. UNGHHH, I loved it! 
What I didn't know was that he was the vainest as well. He used to use products on his hair called things like Stay sofro and TCB, all these products he used to buy in the Afro Caribbean barbers near where we lived years ago. I used to watch in amazement as he used to stand there, hair drier in hand and I swear the bloody stuff used to smoke on his hair as he dried it. 
As for me, I used to employ the skills of Ricky, one of my friends who was/is  camper than a row of tents, but a good hair dresser. With his nimble fingers and the appliance of science I was a blonde beach bum, with tousled blond locks.
Me and Phil were a great team, him with his broad shoulders and thick cyclists legs, black curly hair and hairy chest, and me? Slim blond and sexy, what a pair we made! Now we're overweight and bald and never turn anyones heads apart from Phil breaking wind in the supermarket last week and then blaming me!!!

So, we have this little routine. Trust me this is true and no, it NEVER leads to any kind of nuptials. Ready with your sick bags?

We're both nude, I can't cope with cut hair in me Calvin's, it itches like a bad dose of crabs and nope, I've never had em, ok? 
I kneel down in front of him and he comes up behind with clippers in hand. We both have a number two. He shaves me all over and then, does my side burns and eye brows with a number one. He then vacuum's my scalp back and shoulders and I repeat the process with him. The only difference is, I just let him do it to me in silence and then he moans the whole time I'm doing his head.
Every other month I do his back too. He really needs it waxing but apparently, that's for girls, I MEAN HOW MANY GIRLS DO YOU KNOW WITH HAIRY BACK?

It's then shower a shave and a shower. Bootiful!

Tomorrow we go see Flow again, she's canceled meals on wheels, I swear she did it so people will take her food round to cook. She's on the mend but not eating enough, or doing the exercises on her arm. So it's a pep talk from me and then we have to watch her as she scrunches up her face and I get a mouthful of abuse. So why can't anyone in his family do that?

Thanks so much for going to visit my lovely SIL, blog of her new life with my bro and their kids in France. If anyone of you missed the link it's

Have a great weekend all......... PP xxxxx

Monday, 10 November 2008


Hello All,
There are some things I talk about all the time.... Well, me ;-). My Family, I keep rather private.
I have a brother and a sister, both younger than me. My Sis has three kids and my brother two.
I look at my brother as my best friend, well, one of em. We speak all the time on the phone, but only once a week now, the reason? This summer, he, his wonderful wife Karen and their two adorable daughters, Isobella and Olivia upped sticks, sold everything they have and moved to the South of France.

They already had an apartment in Cannes but have bought a deralict house up in the mountains and are doing it up.
The kids have been slung in the deep and sent to French schools, Karen works from home or around the world as she's a show biz journalist. (Marty, she know's your Starbucks, but has never ventured inside)

My brother now mananges their apartment as they now rent it out as well as managing their other freinds flats as they too rent out theirs.

Life seems idealic. Please stop by and read Karens blog, so far she has no readers. Karen speaks very good French as do the girls. My brother? Well, let's just say he's Merd ( is that the correct spelling Marc?)

PP xxx

Saturday, 8 November 2008


Hello Gang,
So......... how's it all hanging today? I have been farting around on here trying to make my blog more visually exciting. No chance! I just can't seem to get the hang of this. I look at some blogs like Holly's and Dans, they are so inspirational, but mine? Apart from Christopher's title, it's a bit bland to say the least. I did notice one thing though....... I have more readers now Wow! I Love YouI dunno how that came about but as we say over here. TA VERY MUCH! Thank you, thank, thank you.
I hope I have something to say that you enjoy reading.

I thought I'd give you an update on Flo. When we went to see her last Sunday, we took her over her favourite dish, the foreign Lasagna and she still swears she's never had Lasagna before, but there ya go.

By the time we left, we had her whizzing about using her zimmer, but she still didn't eat properly.

The weather here so sooooooooooo dreery I HATE IT, I want to be in Spain, where the sun never stops shining. It's Not Fair Well, as it happen's, it's pissed down the past few weeks on and off.

Oop's Phil has just come in the door, for shopping, so this means I get a treat with my red bush, God, I love that stuff (no rude comments about red bushes please lololol)

Something happend to me yesterday that made me think about my sense of humour. Ok, some may not think I have one, but well? I do. ROTFL A coach load of old biddies came into the store where I was working yesterday. They were all doddery, some had zimmers, others sticks and the rest were just hanging on to each other for dear life!

About 5 of em got in the lift to the mezz floor. As the doors shut I heard one of them say ready for lift off. You could her em all screaming with laughter, as the lift went between the ground and the mezz. I'd gone up the escalators, and reached near where the lift came up. The doors opened and they were cackling with laughter as one of them, Rose has pissed herself laughing between floors.
I had to help em out as they were nearly on the floor with laughter, while Rose clutched her coat where she's weed into her tenna lady (yeeeuk)

I hope to dear God, I'll have the same sense of humour when I reach their age and there's a male version of a panty pad, just incase I do a Rose!

Have a good weekend all. PP xxxxx

Saturday, 1 November 2008


Morning All, 
It's just before 7 am on a very cold and wet Sunday morning. My coffee's close by though to keep me toasty and I've just had a banana and an organic hazelnut yogurt, (yeuk)
There are some things I don't usually talk about, one of them is my deepest past and also family. 

Phil's Mum is called Florence, or Flo to us all. She a feisty 90 year old bird and is as tough as an Ox.
I remember the first time I ever met her, I was warned by Phil, never to kiss her or be affectionate like my family is to each other. We kid's still kiss my Father now when we see him, just like when we were little.

Anyways, a huge row erupted in the car  going to see Flo as I wanted to be my 'normal' self, but Phil wasn't having any of it (we're going back 27 years here)

On meeting her, I gave her a big kiss on the cheek, which let me tell you, has changed the course of their family history, now everyone kisses each other when greeting (job well done me thinks).

Let me describe Flo to you. She's a strawberry blond and was a looker when she was younger. She has inch long nails painted bright red and she wears her hair in that 40's role kind of look with a big black velvet bow at the back.

She wears ski pants and little kitten heels, with leopard print tops. I think she still fancies herself as some 40's film star.
Flo, is a right old Londoner with a foul mouth when it's needed. She now lives alone in her bungalow and takes herself daily to the shops and bingo. 

She has Grand children coming out of her ears but doesn't see them as she has no time for any child at all. To be honest most of them are scared shitless by her. She's very independant and wants help from no one.

She came to ours before we went over to Spain and was up and down an in an out all the show houses on our development. All we kept hearing was 'ohhhhhhh win it nywisssss' lololol.

On our last day in Spain, we got a call from Phil's brother to say Flo had fallen over while putting out the milk bottles for the milkman.
She shattered her hip and broke her arm in 2 places. Her hip has been replaced and her arm  re set, we went to see her in hospital on our return. She was black and blue, with cuts and bruises all over her.
This feisty old bird has turned into a vulnerable old lady in the space of a few days.

She came out of hospital yesterday and phoned to tell me she was home (we knew) She was crying down the phone to me and I have NEVER heard Flo cry before.
Phil's bother and his wife live close so are staying over with her. Because of our wonderful health care system, she's now getting a home help twice a day to get her up and and to bed and her meals are being delivered for her ready cooked so she just needs to heat them up.

Today, we are going over to cook her lunch, she's told us she 'don't want any of that foreign stuff' What she doesn't realise is most of what she eats IS 'foreign', pasta, lasagna, etc lololol. I'm going to M&S this morning to get her favourite 'foreign' food lolol, lasagna! Please nobody tell her it's Italian!

Just send a few healing vibes to Flo today, she needs all the help se can get at the moment.

Writing this final line has bought a tear to my eye. God, I love old Flo.

PP xxxxxxxxx