Posts Tagged ‘Puffing’


My friend TJ’s mum is a fantastic knitter. On Monday she mentioned on Facebook that she was knitting herself some gloves and I commented that I would like her to make me some ‘black, soft, fingerless’ ones. Today I received them – how’s that for speed!? – and tonight I wore them. They are the warmest fingerless gloves I have ever had (and I’ve had quite a few) and on my walk tonight I appreciated the fact that for the first time ever not even my fingertips were cold. As I have a habit of losing gloves, she said that she’ll make me some more and is also going to make ones just like the ones I lost the other week. In return I have sent her some welly socks so that she can keep warm when she walks her dogs on the beach this winter; hope she likes them.




My Old Coat

Yesterday I bought a new coat – a waxed, mid length parker – to replace my old coat. I came home and placed my old coat in the River Island bag and chucked it in the bin. After about an hour I Iooked towards the stand in the hall where my old coat has hung for at least the past three years and realised that I love that old coat – its pockets are full of roaches and smoking matter, it’s easy to pull on to sit and smoke in the garden on rainy days, it has enough protection for winter nights out on my walks (easily tied around the waist, not too heavy) – so I retrieved it from the bin and placed it back where it belongs. Panic over.



Expect not …

… what others can do for you. The weather is total pants  – last week it was so cold, my fingers came out in sore red chilblains – this week, yes, it’s not freezing now but it’s pissing down with rain. I have not left the house for days, except for taking Son to school, and oh, I did go to the cafe for a bacon sarnie with Moo yesterday morning. Suffice it to say that I have been out of my kind of Rizla for two days. I have been making do with a small packet of green, which are majorly frustrating in as much as you’ve got to stick them together and it’s not as easy as 1, 2, 3, i.e. a pain in the arse. Never mind that every time I have a smoke I get rained on and my garden umbrella did not survive the winds early winds and so is lopsided and does not provide shelter, it’s not much fun. ‘Lurky,’ I said, ‘would you mind running over to the sweet shop and get me some big green Rizla?’ … she considered it and shortly declined on the grounds of ‘It’s raining!’  (although it was not). ‘Hang on,’ she said and she padded off to retrieve her fucking stupid skinny silver Rizlas! I personally don’t think that’s the way to treat your mother but hey, what do I know? I haven’t spoken to mine since 1999. Oh, and by the way, Lurky is ‘going to Camden’ clubbing tonight, which I think is adding insult to injury on two counts.




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