Anne Dickens | The Day After Yesterday

Greetings from shitty Oxford (it's raining). It's me here - the sporadic one.

I've named myself  'the sporadic one' because my blog posts are currently sporadicer than someone with Tourette's Syndrome shouting 'COCK'.

It's all down to the same old excuse - work. I worked so hard last week that I couldn't feel my face.

Anyway, enough of that work milarky; after putting in a good 6 hours of solid labour, I decided that it was time for some fun. And because I have got a military mind, I had already rung my friend Sarah to suss out things that a 7 year old might like doing ........... and with the results in, I decided to approach the rug-rat .........

"Izzy, do you want to do something fun?" I asked her. Which is a bit like asking Paris Hilton if she would like to drop her skids.

"YEH!" yelled Izzy (that kid needs a Swiss Finishing School).

"Bally good, because I have organised a treat for you," I said before adding; "and May and Guy are coming too." [May is one of Izzy's bessie mates, and May's Dad, Guy, is a chum from the village. AKA DJ Hyper].

"MAY'S COMING TOO?" screamed Izzy, so excited that she looked like she was going to vom up the chocolate Santa that she had eaten for dinner: "WHERE ARE WE GOING?"

Jeez, that girl's shouting is going to land me with an early Ear Trumpet.

"We are going to visit the film studios where they made the Harry Potter films," I replied with my fingers in my ears in order to minimise the damage.   

 "NO WAY! THAT'S THE BEST!" hollered Izzy. I was glad that she was pleased, even though I was a little perplexed, not having any idea of who Harry Potter was myself.

I felt triumphant like Napoleon Bonaparte, except that my arm wasn't chopped off ........ nor did I have an arrow in my eye ...... or whatever it was that happened to the clumsy git.

Soon the designated day arrived, and Guy and May turned up at the house in Guy's bling mobile (a Jaguar XF sport), to whisk me and Izzy to the Harry Potter film studios. I say 'whisk' but the journey was more of a fingernails embedded in the dashboard, and an intercontinental ballistic missile in the boot kind of experience.

Twenty-three minutes later and we had completed the 44 mile journey to our destination. My eyes were watering and my hair was all stuck out behind me in a horizontal fashion because I had pulled so much G. Relief washed over me, and I spilled out of the passenger door, kissed the car-park, and shouted, "I'm alive!" whilst simultaneously punching the air.

And because I am like Mother Theresa (except that I don't have hair growing out of my ears), I have got some photographs for you .......................


































Apparently, there is a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, but when I went to dig it up, there was just a water-treatment plant at the end ........ most disappointing.

Never mind ....... more to come dahlink.

Hello dahlink, it's been awful here. In between quaffing Bolly, I have been working terribly hard; something that I normally try to avoid at all costs. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. And I knew that I had overdone it when I broke a nail on my keyboard last week.

Meltdown. 

"Sacre bloody bleu!" I shouted at Naughty George, "I'm not the type of person who should be working really hard, I should be reclining on a chaise longue, being hand-fed Brioche and Caviar by porcupines!"

Naughty George responded by staring blankly into the middle distance and belching.

"Is that all you can do?" I yelled, watching him turn round and wander off to gawk at his favourite bit of wall.

It probably sounds a bit harsh, shouting at a mutt. But he is so deaf that I am thinking about mounting a pair of ear-trumpets onto his collar. Not only would it help with his hearing, but it would add to his comedy value.

Anyway, I digress. Back to my over-exertions on the work front: Just as I was contemplating the idea of an onerous work-filled future ad infinitum, I heard my iPhone ring. Well that's not strictly true: it just vibrated because I dropped it a week ago and now the screen is cracked and the speakers don't work.

Vibrate Vibrate! Vibrate Vibrate! ......... went the iPhone.

I made a dash to answer the it before it buzzed itself over the table edge. "WHAT?" I asked.

"It's me, Jane," said the voice at the other end. Jane is my cousin and she's not as tall as me. She likes wearing girly things with flowers and hearts on, whereas I am generally mistaken for a Mechanic or a Garbage Disposal Operative.

"Oh hello," I said.

"What's up with you, you miserable git?" asked Jane sympathetically.

"I broke a nail," I replied, before adding, "what can I do for you?"

"Fancy going on a holiday?" she asked.

"God, yeah," I enthused, "I'm exhausted - I answered four emails last week."

"That's lucky because I've already booked somewhere," Jane grinned.

"Really? Where are we going?" I asked, somewhat intrigued.

"Weymouth," she replied.

"Bloody Weymouth?" I exclaimed loudly, "that manky seaside place on the bottom of England?" (I am not a fan of places with sea near them, because the sea has 'bits' floating in it and the sand sticks to your legs - bloody horrible).

"It's not manky," declared Jane indignantly.

"It's just that I had somewhere a bit more like New York or Italy in mind," I responded. 

"Well, we're going to Weymouth and we're going on Friday," she stated firmly.

That proper told me.

And so the date approached ........ and for once I was uncharacteristically organised. I realised a whole day beforehand that I hadn't organised for anyone to look after Naughty George. But, following a few frantic phone-calls, everything was sorted and I dropped him off at a friend's house.

"God, he stinks," commented aforementioned friend.

"Yeah, I know," I agreed, "he needs a bath; it's been a couple of years."

"He's got a yellow haze around him," said friend after eyeing Naughty George studiously.

"Ok, ok. I get the picture ...... he's a bit ripe. But are you still ok to look after him?" I asked.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll just open a couple of windows."

Having successfully dealt with the mutt issue, I allowed myself a day and night of relaxation. But I was rudely awoken from my reverie when Jane arrived at the house, eager as a puppy to get on our way.

"Let's go!" I shouted enthusiastically, running out to her car.

"Where's your luggage?" asked Jane quizzically.

Bloody nora! I just knew I had forgotten something .......... in this case ......... packing some stuff.

I gulped loudly after realising my omission, and Jane shouted "you're bloody useless," in an exasperated fashion.

Honestly, some people get stressed at the most minor of oversights. So I ran back into the house (in an energetic fashion) to sort it all out. 

Needless to say, I packed my case in about 10 minutes flat (by just picking the stuff that was at the front), and was soon good to go.

And because I like Mother Theresa (except I don't have a moustache), I have got some photographs for you ......................

Day 1 - Weymouth Holiday











DAY 2 - Weymouth Holiday

Jane decided that she wanted another tattoo (she already has three - but I am too wussy to have any and I'd probably get bored of them quickly), so we trawled around all the tattoo parlours in Weymouth to find someone good enough to do it. It was a mission that accomplished within one hour.









DAY 3 - Weymouth Holiday

I wanted to go and see 'Portland Bill' which is a bloody huge lighthouse situated on the Portland Peninsula. I am not quite sure why I wanted to see a lighthouse because they are basically just big pocket torches. I suppose it came down to a choice between that or shopping. And I bloody hate shopping.

Bring it on Portland Bill!













And so my dahlink, after making you trawl through that plethora of photographs, I am going to bid adieu to both yourself and Weymouth ...... bloody great holiday it was ........ thanks cousin!


So, have you been up to anything exciting recently? Pray do tell .......