My honest scrap.

Ok, it looks like it my turn.


I've been tagged by Completely Alienne to tell you all ten honest and interesting things about myself.



Well, you did ask....




1;When i've lost enough weight, the first thing i will do is dance around my sitting room naked.


2; I'm so proud of the fact that Darling Daughter's first proper boyfriend is black.


3; On a film shoot once, an actress was contracted to bathe in a lake topless- she had a problem with it, when it came to shooting the scene, so i went topless to show her that i would do it (while holding the boom mic) even though i wasn't getting paid.


4; Sometimes...just sometimes...i wish i wasn't married.


5; I have another job, which is so different from being a Housekeeper, i haven't found the right time to blog about it yet.


6; If i couldn't listen to music, at some point every day, i think i would go mad.


7; I drink far too much coffee- at least seven cups a day.


I blame The Writer for that.



8; Faith-wise, i'm a Pagan, with a leaning towards Witchcraft.



9; I sing nearly all the time.



Whether i can sing, is an entirely different matter.



10; I have learned more about life and education since i have been with Sy than i ever did at

school.


And i don't think i'm far off having as many books as him...


Well, there you have it.


I'm passing this on to;

Charmaine- http://charmaine-greymatters.blogspot.com/

Kat- http://katdugers.blogspot.com/

Cinnamon- http://sueraphaelsmum.blogspot.com/

Red Rum- http://definitelystoppingattwo.blogspot.com/



Can't wait to read all of yours...


Till next time,

Shakespeare's Housekeeper xx

My acceptance speech.

Thankyou, Mme Kat.

It's a pleasure and and honour to accept this award from your good self.

I will not be telling the writer, as he is still pissed off about me getting the last one.

Love to you all.

Mwah xx

Going up in the world.

...Just a quickie, actually.
Two wonderful, powerful men have new jobs this week.
One has the power to change a nation for the better, to look after his people and get dressed up in his finery to meet other very important people.

The other is now in charge of America.

Who is the first one then, i hear you cry?

My lovely Father in Law has been voted in as the new Mayor of Solihull.

As long as i don't have to call him 'Your Worship' when he comes over for dinner, he'll be alright.

Shakespeare's Housekeeper.xx

That time already...

..Parents evening last night.
Me, Sy and Darling Daughter's Dad trooped off to the school.
(click on 'school' under the label section, and you'll see why this is always such an adventure.)

Five minutes late for the first appointment, and we had 4 teachers to see.
The school is heaving.

We find the English teacher and take stock of the queue of parents waiting to see her.
She is running 15 minutes late.
I turn to the men.
'Let's go and find the R.E teacher. Perhaps we can then come back to Mrs English.'
The two of them look shiftily at each other.
They know this is a bad plan. If we don't get back to Mrs English on time, we will lose our slot.
But they follow me anyway.
Mrs R.E is smashing.
She is ready for the fact there are 3 parents, and has 3 chairs ready.
Massive improvement on last year, and i'm impressed.
We spend 10 miutes with Mrs R.E and speed back to Mrs English.
There is still a huge queue.
I adopt my alpha female pose and ask the parents waiting what time their appointments are.
She is still 15 minutes behind.
'Right- lets go and see Mrs Geography. Come on men, keep up.'
i'm on the way out of the room as i'm saying this.

'Yes Miss' comes this little voice.
I spin round and glare at the men.
'Which one of you said that?'
They both stare at me innocently and as i turn to belt up the staircase, i hear them sniggering behind me.
Feckin schoolkids still, both of them.
'Don't you hate her when she's got her bossy head on?'
'Yeah, some things never change..'

I'm kind of used to this now.
Sy and DDD get on so well, that they will happily trade off stories about me to each other.
But i'm watching them.

We sit to see Mrs Geography and have to wait a few minutes.
While waiting, another dad appears.
Mrs G is now free and i launch myself at her desk, but as i get there, Single Dad is too fast for me.
He slides easily into the chair in front of her and i feel like the loser in a game of Musical Chairs.
But only for a second.
i tap him on the shoulder.
'I'll think you'll find we were before you.'
I'm not sure what actually made him vacate the chair.
Could have been one of four options.

1.The tone of my voice may have been enough to unsettle him, without him actually turning to take a look at me.

2.It might have had something to do with the fact i had ben to a funeral earlier and i was still dressed in head to toe black with my big black (Captain Jack from Doctor Who's) coat billowing around me, and my red hair looking very windswept.
I like to think i had an air of Cathy from 'Wuthering Heights' about me, but to Single Dad, i probably looked like a mad version of somebody from a Dickensian novel.

3. Maybe it was because DDD was stood behind me, and seeing as he's six foot tall, shaved head and has the air of a door supervisor (well, that's what he does do actually.)

4. All of the above.

Anyway- he moved.

We saw Mrs G, all went well, and we scurried back up to Mrs English.
Who was still running late.
'French teacher!' i cry.
We find her room, there are ten sets of parents waiting to see her.
Bugger this.
Darling Daughter had told us that her cookery teacher was most upset that we hadn't wanted to see her.
So, we went and found her instead.
All on her own, in the Library.
Nobody seems to want to see the Cookery teacher.
She was so chuffed to see us, even though we had no appoinment, that she offered to make us a cup of tea.
Poor soul, i think we must have been the only people she had seen all night.
We declined the tea, but had a quick chat about DD's cooking (which is rather brilliant, actually)and made our excuses.
'One more shot at Mrs English?'
The men are looking thoroughtly pissed off by now, and i lose my rag.
'Look you two- this is your daughter's schooling we are here to talk about. It's not about you two. Now grow up and be the dads that you are supposed to be!'
The parents that were privy to this outburst must have gone home and talked to their children about this.

'Have you a girl in your year with a surrogate father? Only we heard.....'

Mrs English still had a queue.

We had been trying to see her for nearly an hour.
'We're pulling out, men..'
I felt like William Wallace. If only my face was blue. Actually, i'm glad i had my coat as it was bloody cold in there. So my face could possibly have had a tinge of the aforesaid colour.

On our return, DD was waiting nevously.
'Everything alright?' she asks while chewing her nails.
'Yep- you're doing ok. Don't worry.'
I went through to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
'One thing though- we didn't get to see a couple of the teachers. Can you get them to call me to talk about your work?

There is no way i'm going through that again.

Till next time,
Shakespeare's Housekeeper xx

A day to myself....

Yesterday, i thought i would have a day to myself.

Darling Daughter was going off to do something with mates, and Sy is in the middle of a very busy period with 'Arthur'.

He hasn't had time to even pass the time of day with me (to busy with Authonomy...and those bloody forums!)

So, i thought i would take myself off to Stratford and browse the charity shops.

I cooked the two of them a huge breakfast, made sure they didn't need anything and got myself together.

'Where are you off to Sprouty?'



It's the first time in nearly a week that Sy has asked me anything, so it threw me a bit.

I glanced at him shiftily- i knew what was coming if i told him where i was going.

'Just out'.

'Where out?'

More than one question- this was serious.

'......Stratford', i mumbled.

I can't remember the last time i saw him move so fast.

'Two minutes and i'll be with you.'



Bugger, bugger and arse.



In the car, he say's 'where abouts in Stratford?'

'You didn't think to ask that before we set off?'

'Well, i'm sure it's somewhere lovely..'

Time passes.

'Can we call in at the Tip shop? There might be some new books there.'

Dutifully, i drive down to the hospice tip shop and park up.

Sy is out the car like a bullet and heads down to the book section at the back.

Sighing, i grab a handful of carrier bags from the boot of the car- he never, ever buys just one book.

Half an hour later, we drive into Stratford town centre, with seven new additions (note additions, not editions- we've not been that lucky yet) safely ensconced in the boot.

I'm already £6.50 down.



Right, serious shopping- look for the charity shops.

'Sprouty, you've never seen Shakespeare's grave, have you?'



Not today, please....

'Noooo.....'

He grabs my arm and propels me at an astonishing speed in the direction of Holy Trinity church.

'We will go now- then you can say that you have been there. After all, how can you listen to me talk about his death and where he is buried, if you've never been to the grave?'

He's got a point.

And i can't believe that i've lived here all my life and never visited the grave.

But they say, people who live by the sea, and all that...



I've seen it.

It's small.

He has his family either side of him.

It's right in front of the alter.

And i had so many questions, that poor Sy hardly knew what had hit him.

I bought him a little bust of Shakespeare to put on his desk- for inspiration purposes.

Another £4.00.



Ok- charity shops!!

We mosy back up into town.

Sy see's another little church.

'We'll just pop in here Sprouty...it's never been open when i've come before.'

We have to leave money for the restoration of the stained glass windows....another £3.00.



Twenty minutes later, i'm making a beeline for the heart foundation shop.

Yay! We're in!.

But i don't see anything i like, so that's that.

Unlike Sy, who has found another two books....£4.00.

'Never mind Sprouty- lets go and see little bruv in his Gallery..we might get a cuppa.'

As i mentioned in a previous post, Sy's brother has an Art Gallery in Stratford- so along we went, the shop was open, and we awaited coffee.

No such luck- they bring it in from Costas, and had just done a 'run'.



More bugger and more arse.



So we stood in the Gallery, Sy yapping to his Brother about Politics and other stuff that people should be banned from talking about on a Sunday, all the while, it was getting later and later.

'Best go and find some more shops for you then!' he crys gleefully at about 4.00pm.



Bloody great.

Everything shuts at about 4.

We head back to the carpark, i pay £2.50 to get out of the carpark, (the barrier was shut on this one, not like the feckin hospital...) and we head home.



'Lovely day out, Sprouty. Thanks everso.'

Sy plants a kiss on my cheek as he gets out of the car.



I follow him into the house, where he is already back in another world, checking the ansaphone and starting up the computer.



I can't help but wonder how i let my day out become his?
Not just how- why????



Till next time,



Shakespeare's Housekeeper xx

About last night....

I experienced a rather different me last night.
As i mentioned a while ago, one of my ladies is in hospital with a broken elbow, the consequence of a rather nasty fall.
The elbow is now mended, but she has other complications, so she is still in hospital, over two months after the original fall.
The last time i visited her was New Years Eve, and while i was there, i asked her if there was anything she needed.
'Warm clothes please- my son has brought in all my summer stuff-he hasn't got a clue..'
I knew what she meant.
'And as many pairs of knickers as you can find.'
Well, a girl can never have too many pairs of knickers, can she?
So, yesterday afternoon, i scurried off down to her house, dressed like a yeti (it was still minus two at 3.00pm) and started the mammoth task of finding some 'winter clothes.'
I have been telling her for over two years that we need to sort her clothes out-she has more clothes that don't fit, than clothes that do-but after an hour and a half later, i had found what i'd hoped was a 'warm clothes selection.'
Because of this winter vomiting bug, visiting has been reduced to one hour a day- between 7-8.00pm, so me and Darling Daughter set off in the Arctic conditions at 6.30.
Roads are trecherous, but we skid our way into the carpark of the most monsterous place you have ever seen just before 7.00.
We finally find our way to the ward my lady's on, and wait to be let in.
They lock the doors on the wards there now- and if there are no nurses around at 7.00 to let you in, you have to peer mournfully through the glass until you catch a glimpse of one and then hammer like buggery at the door in the hope they will hear you.
A nurse finally saw us at about 7.10.
As we scurried in, me clutching the bag of stuff, a loud voice boomed out at us from nowhere;
'YOU HAVE NOT USED THE ALCOHOL SPRAY-PLEASE USE THE ALCOHOL SPRAY'.
Darling Daughter yelped and i dropped the bag. A disembodied voice was telling us we were unclean.
Actually, we had used the spray twice on the way to ward, but i suppose you can't be too careful.
I was also in agony from using this spray- my hands are cut to ribbons at the moment (not too sure why, but there you go...)and everytime the stuff hit my hands it felt like somebody sticking my hands on a broken bottle.
I couldn't find my old lady.
There are at least four wards and eight or nine side rooms, so i tracked down a nurse and asked her.
'She's moved- either to the day case unit, or to the building over the road.'
Darling Daughter and i scuttled off through to the day case unit- on the other side of the hospital.
We found a nother nurse.
'Is she here?
'No, but i remember her...she's over the road in the other building.'
I was impressed that she remembered who my lady was, but as my lady was a nurse herself, i'm not sure she was remembered for the right reasons....i bet she's making their lives hell.
We grabbed the bag, and made our way down the stairs and across the carpark to the other building.
This was after trying to find someone to tell us where it was, with no luck.
Darling Daughter found a discarded map on the floor on the way out, so that helped a bit.
By now, it's 7.20pm.
And i had anticipated visiting for just half an hour, so we are now looking at ten minutes visiting.
Shit.
We get to the other building and find the ward we are looking for.
More Alcohol spray.
As i approach the nurses station, i glance up at the patient board.
And, ominously, i can't see my ladies name.
No nurses around, so i ring the bell on the desk.
Bloody hell, you'd have thought i was starting WW3.
They came from everywhere, looking so mutinous that i checked behind me to make sure one wasn't bringing up the rear with a bedpan, ready to smash over my head.
'You haven't got my lady, have you?'
One picked up the phone while the others melted away.
'She's in the main wing on the top ward.'
'But that's where i've come from- 20 minutes ago- they said they hadn't got her'.
'Well, that's where she is.'
Back to the main building.
Up the stairs.
More alcohol spray. I could have cried.
More peering through the glass on the ward door.
We were spotted and let in.
'My lady- she must be with you..' i gasped.
'Oh, yes. Over there.'
And there she was, in the same place as New Years Eve.
But in a different bed.
At last.
We mooch over.
'I wasn't expecting visitors.' was her opening line.
Odd, i thought- she had asked me to bring these clothes in for her tonight.
' i've brought your clothes in for you'.
'What clothes- i didn't ask for any clothes.'
'But...'
'You'll have to take them home again.'
Darling Daughter was cowered in a corner- i was getting worried about her.
I glanced at the clock.
8.00pm.
Time to go- half an hour after i had wanted to leave, and the time visiting ends.
'I'll take them back home for you.'
We left the ward.
More alcohol spray.
In the foyer, i put my parking ticket into the machine.
£2.50.
£2. bloody 50 for up to two hours.
Darling Daughter hadn't said a word while all this was happening.
We got back out to the car, de-iced it, and drove to the barrier.
The barrier was up.
I needn't have paid £2. bloody 50 to park.
As we left, and got onto the bypass, a car cut me up. I didn't comment.
Darling Daughter squeeked.
'What's happened to you mum?'
'What do you mean?'
'We have just had the worst nightmare, and you haven't exploded yet...does that mean you are saving it all up ill we get home?'
She looked terrified under the lights on the bypass.
'No.' i said.
And i meant it.
For some reason, i did not 'Go Off On One'...and i really have no idea why.
The whole hospital experience was enough to send a saint over the edge, but not me. Not last night.

I'm wondering then, if this is going to be the year i try to be a calmer, more focussed Sprouty.
It would be nice.
But i guess it depends what happens to day really.

Till next time,
Shakespeare's Housekeeper.xxx