i've got the key of the door..

..never been 43 before.
Yes, the birthday has been and gone.
Thursday to be precise, but i was a bit traumatised and went a bit mad, so i wasn't allowed near any electrical equipment.
But back to normal now, and i have come to terms with what, after all, is only a number.
just a feckin' big one, that's all.
I did have a nice day though and had some lovely pressies.
Darling Daughter bought me a new mobile phone.
I oohed and aahed over it, turned it over in my hands, admired it and then promptly handed it back to her to set it all up.
I need it only to make calls from. Nothing else.
And i certainly cant be arsed to find out how to get it to make calls. I just need it to do the job.
Bless her- all went brilliantly, she got it up and running in no time and loaded all my numbers into it.
Minor problem being when i needed to phone her yesterday, i discovered she had not put her number into my phone.
i like to think it was forgetfulness on her part, but she's nearly 15 and probably wanted half an hour in which she knew damn well her mother wouldn't be able to get hold of her.
But hey, i've got it now. She won't make that mistake again.
Sy bought me some perfume.
I'd like to say i had no idea that he was getting me anything, but the day before he asked if he could have the car for half an hour as he had to go into town for something.
Now Sy only leaves his computer for two reasons.
1- he has a present to buy for me.
2- he needs the loo (i'm waiting for the day he asks me for a bedpan. He will. honest to god, he will).
But at least he remembered. With the help of the post-it note that i stuck to the computer screen two weeks ago.
This morning i met up with my lovely rabbity friend, Donna (have a look at her site, under my 'sites i like to peruse'), we had a smashing birthday- come- mothers day breakfast by the river.
Totally peaceful and idyllic.
No kids.
Best way to spend mothers day...well an hour of it anyway.
i have eaten so much crap that the stone i have lost in weight has probably gone straight back on, but tomorrow is another day. Actually, it's another year, in a way, and i'm back to the fruit and salad with a vengeance.
In theory.
The reality is so much harder.

Till next time,
Shakespeare's Housekeeper xx

Time to come clean....

Listen very carefully...i shall say this only once.


I have eight housekeeping jobs, varying from doing 'a bit' for some lovely elderly people, through to keeping on top of a couple of gorgeous holiday homes in the Cotswolds.


But i only do these jobs in the mornings.


In the afternoon, i do something very different.
Do you recognise the car above?
The good old Ford Capri- the must-have car of the mid seventies to mid eighties.
Beloved of the 'The Professionals', 'Minder' and often seen careering through cardboard box mountains on 'The Sweeney'.
Well....in the afternoons, i make my way to a converted stable, five minutes drive from my house, and play with these cars.
I help strip parts from them and then send them off to the four corners of the globe.

I loooove this job.
No two days are ever the same, i can make as much noise as i like, and the recession is non existant for this particular trade.
So, some facts about my job.

Like i say, i work in a converted stable- the only thing thing that has made it a room, is the fact it has a radiator. I can't tell you how basic it is. On the minus side, in the winter, i might as well be outdoors. On the plus side, in the summer, i have views across the Cotswolds, and have buzzards flying above me, and chickens stroll in and keep me company.
Just don't tell Health and Safety.

Remember the photo from Burns Night of my friend who was dressed like Captain Sensible?
He's my boss.
And i love him. He's the best bloke ever.
He plays practical jokes all the time, including such gems as making animal noises on the second phone line when i'm on the phone to customers, firing his air controlled whirring gun at us with discs inside saying such things as 'make me a cuppa' and 'no holiday for you this year' ( i kid you not.)
He will listen to me rambling on about The Writer when i'm pissed off with him, he tells me that i will always have a job at his place even if it's just sweeping floors (he says he's heard i'm really good at that- it doesn't help that i clean his house for him too...) and he will always come and fetch me or take me home in his huge van if the stable gets flooded. Which it has done on several occasions.

There are over thirty Ford Capris on site ( i bet you thought they were all dead) in various staes of health, including the 'Minder' Capri. My boss owns that one, and says he will never sell it.
Most of them are stored in his wifes menage.
She had horses once, but the minute she took them out to the fields, the cars took over.

The place i work has been on telly- a show on Discovery real time, called 'Wreck Rescue'- and many of the cars have been loaned out to tv companies for period shows. Bet you missed that one in the background on 'Larkrise to Candleford' didn't you...?
You know what i mean.

Some of the car parts are disgusting- covered in oil, rust and crap.
I take great delight in wrapping any parts like that in fresh copies of the 'Daily Mail.'
Now that IS a good feeling.

I get to wear steel toe capped boots and swear like a trooper.
Although it's a very male dominated environment, me and the girl in the office use language that makes the boys blush.
And there are only five of us that work there...small is beautiful.

The company has been running for 25 years, and this year is the 40th annivesary of the Capris' launch.
And by the way business is going, it'll be going for another 25 years.

Finally, my dad would have been really proud of me doing this job. He always had Fords, and i'm sure he's up there somewhere watching me with a spanner in my hand, and saying 'good on yer Sprouty.'

So, in a (not so small) nutshell, you have the details of my 'other' job. I won't mention it again.
And believe it or not....it really does keep me sane.

Till next time,
Shakespeare's Housekeeper xx

Well, i'll go to the foot of our stairs!

...this came from the lovely 'Comedy Goddess'.

I can't do links, but she's there on my followers and you must visit her if you haven't already.

You're missing a treat.

I think it's a 'meme'.

But i'm going with the flow here, so bear with me.

The idea of this is to google your name and post the results.

'Shakespeare's Housekeeper' came up with a result i wasn't expecting.

Apparently, in Shakespeares day, a housekeeper didn't mean some one who cleaned the loos and picked up dirty underwear.

A housekeeper in those times was someone who OWNED the theatre- they actually were the keeper of the house. They shared out the money from the performances, paid the actors and took their share.

Really, i shouldn't be that suprised.

Because i already know i'm the keeper of the house.

Now, i feel that all my bloggy buddies are sick to the back gnashers of me putting them forwards for these things- but- i would love some of you to google your own names and let me know what you come up with.

Go on!!!!

Shakespeare's Housekeeper....really, i am. xx

My 'Aint Life Grand' award.

Well- I've been nominated by Abruptly Calico to state five reasons why life is grand for me.

After racking my brains and counting my blessings, here they are;

1; I've got work.

So many people haven't, and i've still got more than i can cope with. But that's good.

2; My Darling Daughter hasn't gone off the rails. Yet. I might need to do this again in a years time and see if answer is different.

3; I've got bloody brilliant neighbours. When you live in a tiny community like i do, and are more or less with these people every day, it really matters that i can go to any of them at any time for anything.

4; I'm so chuffed that The Writer actually prefers me without make-up- which is grand because if i wore it, then after the days work that i do, it would have slid off my face.

5; It's Spring!!! No more getting up in the dark and staggering around the bedroom trying to find my knickers, and worrying whether i will wake up The Writer after he has only been in bed for an hour.

There they are then.

And in true tradition, i now nominate;

Cassandra at Jacobwrestling.

Charmaine at Middle-Aged Dating.

Kat at Random Ramblings and Recipes.

Completely Alienne at ....err..Completely Alienne.

Cinnamon at Hull is Never Dull.

Go Girls!!!

Till next time,

Shakespeare's Housekeeper xx

The Birthday Boy.

It was The Writers birthday on Saturday.
He's now 42.
Which is still a year younger than me.
It was quite a quiet weekend all in all, mainly because he had a bottle of wine, a bottle of port and a bottle of scotch bought for him. Not by me, i hasten to add. So he spent a lot of the weekend sliding either off things or under them.
We went to dinner with the out-laws on Friday night and i spent the first part of the evening arguing gently with Sy's dad.
He keeps on and on at me to put my diary onto the computer, because you can't go wrong if it's all listed in front of you.
I reminded him that he had lost all his contacts and diary into the ether not too long ago, and i would much rather put all my day to day dealings on a calendar and hang it on the wall.
You know where you are with a calendar and pen.
Sy's mum tells me she still has a calendar on the wall in the kitchen.
' if i lose it, at least i know it's only down the back of the dresser, not half way round the universe.'
Luuurve that Brummie humour.
I didn't get Sy a present.
I had every intention of getting him something i know he really wants (which unbelievably, isn't a book), but the car had to be mot'ed...and that cost 175 quid.
Maybe next month.
So, i thought i might give him me, all dressed up and raring to go, after a second night out on Saturday night.
That all went tits up when i realised that if i were to instigate sex in the car at some ungodly hour, in February, then we might end up getting frostbite.
And i know what you're thinking, but he was only worried about his writing fingers. Not any other dangly bits.
Sunday we went to Stratford and bought books (what else...had to happen at some point) and ate chips beside the river.
And i felt really crap afterwards, because i've lost a stone since md January, and i'm sure they've done untold damage.
But i can't say no....it's the Piscean in me. Sy- booze. Me -chocolate and chips. Not necessarily in that order.
And that's that for another year.
It's my birthday in about 3 weeks.
I'm not sure what The Writer has planned for me..probably some gentle ribbing about the fact i'm still older than him, i might get coffee in bed (if i can boot him out to make me one) or maybe a suprise of his making.
I won't hold my breath though.

Till next time,
Shakespeare's Housekeeper xx