Anne Dickens | The Day After Yesterday

Today was my first morning in Clermont, Florida, and I woke up thinking that I had died, which was a bit disconcerting to say the least.

The problem was a mixture of jet-lag combined with the fact that the bedroom that I was sleeping in was decorated all in white. So when the morning sun came streaming towards me through the window, it felt like some divine being had come to claim my soul. It was a full minute before I realised that I was in fact, alive, and that I should bloody close the blinds before going to bed.


I jumped out of bed and into the en-suite shower (oh yes dahlink) before quickly getting dressed ready for breakfast which was being cooked by Clare - oh yeh, she is a trooper like that. I love it.



After a scrumptious breakfast, I decided to take advantage of glorious sunshine by undertaking a spot of sunbathing in order to banish my cadaverous pallor. That would teach all the people who nicknamed me 'Gorgonzola' (white with blue veins).

I had read somewhere, that when you sunbathe, it is important to apply sunscreen or cover up, and rotate yourself regularly so that you lessen the risk of burning. So I came up with a plan of action .........



An hour later, I was armed with a healthy glow, and Clare asked if I fancied a spot of shopping.

"Can we go to Walmart to see if we can see any fat people dressed as superman?" I asked, because one of my favourite websites is www.peopleofwalmart.com.

"Yes of course we can," Clare replied and we hopped in the car armed with a camera.

Unfortunately after extensive searching, we didn't see any 'people of Walmart' but Clare did spot a magnificently tacky plastic owl.

I know I am in Florida, and you probably want to hear about that, but be patient dahlink. I have a technical issue which I needed to address first.

Today, I did a bit of a change to my blog. You know what they say; 'a change is as good as a rest'. I don't entirely subscribe to that point of view though, because what if the change involved mining through solid stone?

Anyway, I digress. For ages, I have been pissed off with the clunky comment-management on Blogger, which made it really difficult for me to reply to people's comments.

As if that wasn't enough, Jayne from 'In Jaynes World', had been badgering me (in a non-psychotic way of course), to move to something called Disqus.

'What the bloody hell is Disqus?' I hear you cry.

Well, it is a comment management system, and it emails you whenever a chum leaves a comment on your blog. And then all you have to do is reply to the email, and your response goes directly to the chum in question as well as being posted on your blog.

So in essence, it is a far more sociable way of managing your interaction with readers. Apparently.

To be honest, I am not entirely sure how it all works yet, so if you wouldn't mind leaving me a comment, it will help me check if Disqus works. But to make it more interesting, I would particularly like totally random comments, e.g. 'I am sick of my front door being red'.

Thanks my dahlink! I will give a mention to the most random comment ........ do your worst chaps!

When it comes to organising my diary, I must admit that I am the equivalent of Mother Theresa working on Wall Street, i.e. crap. Actually I am assuming that Mother Theresa would be crap on Wall Street but I can't back it up. Oh yes I can, thinking about it, because she's dead.

With that in mind, I made another diary blooper this week. Despite only arriving home from my weekend in Skegness on late Monday afternoon, I had a flight booked to visit my chum Clare in the US on Tuesday morning. It was going to be tighter than a gnat's chuff by any stretch of the imagination. And I couldn't afford to miss my flight like I did last time, because Clare would get really mad with me again and call me a daft moose.

So after arriving home at 4.30pm on Monday, I was like a non-hairy James Bond with a mission; I rapidly emptied my suitcases of all things Skegness, and shoved the contents into my new washing machine. And because my washing machine hadn't been installed properly, I had to lie on it during the spin cycle to stop it from bouncing around the floor. It's quite humiliating really, especially when I have company around.

Once that was done, I had re-pack my suitcases, this time for Florida. The whole time I was packing, Clare insisted on being on a Skype video-call with me, so that she could hear what I was packing and check I didn't miss anything. She is very over-cautious like that and didn't seem to think that my amazing mooing cow-thing was essential.

By midnight, I was done, and I went to bed under strict instructions that I had to set off for Gatwick by no later than 7am the next morning. Crikey, that's virtually the middle of the night.

But you will be glad to know that I did it (even though I nearly perished from shock), and I arrived at London Gatwick Airport at 8.30am in readiness for my flight at 11.15am.

The only hiccup I encountered was during check-in. A important man (I knew he was important because he had a walkie-talkie) asked me where I was flying to in order to direct me to the correct desk.

Aw crap. I stared back at him with the realisation that I had no idea where I was actually flying to; Clare had sorted out all the flights for me and I am useless at remembering names.

"Errr, America?" I replied.

"I need you to be more specific than that ma'am," he said, regarding me incredulously.

Gulp. It looked like all was lost until suddenly I remembered that I knew the flight number from my original flight confirmation email (numbers tend to stick in the head of engineers you see).

"I am on flight VS027," I grinned at him.

"That's Orlando ma'am. You need to check-in right over there," he responded, motioning towards the Virgin Atlantic desk.

Marvellous. I was on my way.



Pic.No.3 As we began our descent into Orlando Airport, I took a picture of the clouds

The flight took 9 bloody hours instead of 8 because there was a tail wind, and I managed to watch 4 films on the in-flight entertainment system which was quite a luxury because I never normally get time to watch films.

We touched down in Orlando at 4pm, and after 45 minutes of trying to get through Immigration, I finally emerged into the Arrivals Hall to be met by a waving and grinning Clare. It was lucky she was there actually because I had lost her contact details, and the battery on my iPhone was dead.

After a short drive we arrived back at Clare's house in time to see the sunset over her swimming pool and the lakes beyond.


More to come later folks...........

So, have you ever had a disastrous journey out of interest? Not that mine was too disastrous ...... this time.

Huzzar, I'm back in my blog.

Sorry I have been AWOL for so long, but as you know, I have been on holiday. I went up North to a place called Skegness, where the traffic was jam-tastic. We stayed in a caravan (and I felt like Gypsy Rose Lee except with no crystal ball) and were lucky to have running water (it turned off twice), let alone wi-fi. I did ask the caravan site receptionist if they had wi-fi, but she looked at me blankly and said, "are you talking about a Chinese restaurant?' Sacre bleu. 

Then I tried doing a couple of posts using my iPhone, but the connection coverage was so patchy, it would have been quicker using a carrier pigeon.

'So,' I hear you cry, 'how did you get on staying in a caravan without a concierge and 5 star facilities?'

Well, to be honest, I found it a bit difficult surviving without 'room service' and Egyptian cotton sheets and duck-down pillows, but being a trooper, I decided just to pitch in and ride it out. And just so you can get an idea of the conditions, I have put together a photo album for you ........... introducing me, daughter Izzy, my Cousin Jane, her baby Mitchell, and a selection of her assorted relatives on holiday in Skegness ....................

Where we stayed



















So there you have it dahlink; my bank holiday weekend in Skegness. It was certainly a great place for kids, what with the beach, swimming pool and theme parks. Izzy didn't want to go home. And I am not surprised because there is a state of almost permanent gridlock on the single carriageway roads. We drove home last Monday, and it took us five (yes FIVE) hours in total.

Luckily Izzy kept herself amused with an empty tub of butter. For the whole five hours. I would love to be that easily amused.

Anyway, did your bank holiday antics pan out as planned? I hope to be catching up with your blog mighty soon.

Dahlink, I thought you might like a picture of the holiday home (aka caravan) that I have been staying in.
At first I was very hesitant about it because shortly after arriving, I discovered that there wasn't a concierge or room service.

As it turns out, I was right about being hesitant, because without the concierge, I had to find my own way to the Theme Park where Izzy and I spent the day riding on roller coasters.

It was a most marvellous past-time, made even better because we didn't puke.

So my lovely, what are you up to this fine bank holiday weekend?

Sent from my iPhone

I tried to post this picture of me and Izzy in my last post but it didn't work. So I am trying again to prove that I actually did make it to the seaside!

Dear dahlink, this is just a quick post to let you know that I am going properly AWOL for about two weeks. I don't know where or when I will have an internet connection, so I subsequently don't know when I will be able to write blog posts or even visit your blog.

But I don't want you thinking that I am ignoring you or anything ....... hence this post. I am thoughtful like that .... a bit like Mother Theresa but with a pedicure.

As if moving house yesterday wasn't enough, today I had to pack my bags for the holidays. The plan is that Izzy and I are going to my cousin's house in Loughborough tomorrow to spend the night there. Then, the day after, we are driving to Skegness to spend a long weekend by the seaside.

We will be in Skegness until Monday, at which point Izzy and I will drive home and I will drop her off with her Dad. I then have 8 hours to pack for my trip to America.


Once those eight hours have elapsed, I need to hotfoot it to Gatwick Airport where I will be boarding a flight to Orlando, Florida. The last time I attempted a similar feat, I missed my flight and Clare (who I was visiting) got really mad and called me a joey.

Blimey, at the moment I don't feel like I have time to fart. So if you are feeling a bit neglected, that is why (sorry dahlink).

Wish me luck on my travels!


P.S. Are you off anywhere on holiday?

It's me, hurray! Sorry I have been a bit AWOL in the last few days, but I have a good reason dahlink.

Something absolutely awful happened to me yesterday. Imagine something really bad and then double it, and you are probably getting close to the nightmare that I had to suffer.

You're not gonna believe this, but yesterday I undertook manual labour. And a lot of it. I'm not designed to do manual labour for chrissake! I am designed to recline on a chaise longue and be fed grapes by a porcupine, whilst being fanned by child labour. That's before I even touch upon my penchant for milk-baths.

'What are you on about you crazy wombat?' I hear you cry.

Do you remember me telling you that I had sold my London house? Well the house had been emptied of all furniture in readiness for the sale, except for the attic. Actually, that's not totally true, I had removed a few things from the attic (hence my blog posts called 'interesting shit I have found in my attic'), but the lion's share still remained.

And that is what I had to do yesterday - clear out the attic. Luckily Steve (my ex-partner) was there (and he had procured a van) to help, but we also had to take Izzy because she was on school holidays and we had no-one to look after her. Not that she minded; she was excited about seeing the house in which she lived after she was borned-ed (I know, we need to work on her past tense).

But man alive, is cleaning out the attic a shitty job? We spent the whole day trying to squeeze heavy, filthy, and dusty boxes through the tiny hatch in the ceiling which provided access to the attic space. It was wank, especially because at least half of the boxes were being stored as a favour for someone I knew in the past. And I nearly broke my thumb by trapping it between a box and a door. It really hurt and I responded by loudly shouting 'you bastard'. 

Steve heard me and shouted back, "what have I done now?" Awwww the joys of moving house.

But whilst the majority of the day was hard labour (I even got black bogeys to add insult to injury), I did manage to get a few photographs of Izzy and the London house whilst I was there.








As if that wasn't bad enough, I am due to go on holiday with my cousin on Thursday through until Monday, and then after that I think I am off to America for a couple of weeks but I can't remember the details. So I won't have time to sort out all the shit for ages.

Never mind eh? Looking on the bright side, all the shit stuffed inside my house gives me something to blog about once I get around to exploring it.

P.S. So, do you have anything (room, cellar, van) that drastically needs sorting out? If yes, what is it and why?

Crikey, this weekend has been a blur and I haven't had time to fart (not that I would mind you, I am like the Queen in that respect).

Amongst other things, my cousin Jane came to visit. She likes her TV and the lack of one in my house makes her break out in a cold sweat.

She arrived yesterday afternoon, and after saying, 'hello', she immediately asked, "have you got a TV yet?"

"Nope," I replied, before adding, "woooooh, you are going to have to talk to me instead." I accompanied my response with some mysterious arm-waving for added gravitas.

"You are such a bloody heathen," she muttered before lugging her gorgeous three month old baby (Mitchell) into the house.

Now because I am a bit tired, I am going to blatantly take some bloggy shortcusts here. Instead of describing it properly, I am going to bullet-point what we did:

1. The sun was out so we sat in the garden and chatted for an hour or two
2. Then we went to an Indian Restaurant in the next village (Wheatley). It was called Cinnamons and it was really tasty
3. After Cinnamons, we came home

Once home, Jane started pacing restlessly up and down.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Are you sure you don't have a TV?" Jane asked.

"Positive," I said, "I only have a laptop."

"A laptop?" Jane exclaimed, virtually bouncing off the walls with happiness, "can I use it please?"

Oh yes, Jane had struck gold. After being unable to watch TV she realised that she could indulge to her heart's content with Farmville on Facebook instead.

So whilst Jane bought imaginery crops for her imaginery farm, I lit the fire and then composed a shit song for her.

Yep, I am the hostess with the mostess.

But now Jane has gone home, and I am off to bed because I am so tired that I've considered eating Naughty George because it is easier than preparing a meal. Dammit, he is a little dog - he would make a great Scooby snack. 

P.S. How has your weekend gone and what have you been up to?

Today wasn't a good day, and before I start, I know what you are thinking .......

'What the blazes are you doing photographing Naughty George's dog food in the garden?' I hear you holler; 'have you gone all weirdy?'


Before you start worrying that I am going to start shuffling instead of walking, develop a facial tic, and inexplicably allow my personal hygiene go to pot, please let me explain (and it's a good 'un).

I got up at the crack of dawn (9am) this morning because I had tons of 'stuff' to do before going on holiday to Skegness next week. As I wondered bleary-eyed into the kitchen, I noticed that Naughty George's food bowl was empty.

'Greedy bastard', I thought to myself as I went to the pantry to get him some more food. As I picked up the bag of 'Bakers Complete', I thought I heard a scuffling noise. I paused and listened, but all was silent. I shrugged it off and walked back to Naughty George's dog bowl.

I opened the top of the bag ready to pour out his food and it was then that I caught a glimpse of a sudden movement inside the bag, complemented by a high-pitched squeaking.

"AAAAH!" I shouted, literally flinging the bag to the floor and violently recoiling.

I composed myself and started edging back towards the bag of dog food. Eventually I plucked up the courage to look in the bag and guess what I bloody found?


Bloody typical. As if a busy day ahead wasn't enough, I now had two random rodents that needed disposing of. And a hungry dog (yes, I know what you are thinking, but I'm not like that).

I sat down at my laptop and typed 'humane ways to get rid of mice' into Google.






I was so totally engrossed the whole time, that I hadn't noticed a Water Engineer's van pull up behind me (yep in the middle of nowhere - how unlucky?)

The Engineer wound down his window, cleared his throat, and barked "excuse me", causing me to fall over backwards in shock.

The reality of the situation quickly hit me: There I was, lying on my back, in a well known desolate sex spot, after spanking a bag of dog food, taking pictures, and shouting 'OH YES!'

I picked myself up from the ground and tried to smile brightly at the Engineer whilst my cheeks burned red. This was not looking good.

He looked at me blankly as I tried to stutter an explanation, "I found mouses in my dog food!" I said before realising that it looked pretty improbable in the absence of a dog.  

"Each to their own," he said sagely before manoeuvring his van around me and into the water pumping station. He had one of those faces (fat lips and fish eyes) that drew conclusions and didn't want explanations.

And so my dear, talk about a bummer start to my day. And by the time it all happened, it wasn't even 10am.

Don't you just hate days that start like that?

So, have you ever had a particularly bad morning or been grossly misunderstood?

Oh, blimey, I just realised that I haven't mentioned anything about last weekend. Well, it was my turn to look after little Izzy and the weather was forecast to be warm and sunny all weekend. Double doggy bonus.

And because I am a bit like Mary Poppins (except that I don't boff chimney sweeps or keep bursting into song), I had arranged lots of things for us to do. Oh yes dahlink, life is too short for sitting around twiddling one's thumbs and saying 'bah humbug'.

So, on Saturday morning we went to pick up one of Izzy's best friends, Honey, who was coming to spend the day with us. Lovely jubbly.

I had arranged for us all to have a sophisticated lunch in the garden and then go on an outing that I had planned.... myself. Who says my nickname is 'chaos theory'?

And so here is a photo-post of Saturday's happenings......... starting with a lunch of Marks and Spencer 'Loaded Skins'. Ok, I know that they are not posh, but Izzy and Honey are only 5, they want party food for chrissake.





Once lunch was over, the fun was due to start. I had found out that the Natural History Museum (owned by Oxford University), was holding a 'Bugs and Birds' event for kids. I am not totally sure what the aim of the event was, but I think it was to try and convert them into bearded, cabbage-eating, sandal-wearing tree-huggers when they grow up. Because that is what you have to be like if you like nature. If you wear trainers or eat kebabs, it means you like clubbing hedgehogs to death.

After a short 20 minute drive from Forest Hill to Oxford, we finally arrived at the Natural History Museum.











After a couple of hours, I was a bit arts-and-crafted out (I am an engineer! Art doesn't have numbers, except for paint-by-numbers which I can do), so I suggested finding some of the creatures that were advertised as being on display. And as luck would have it, I almost immediately hit the jackpot.

"Wanna hold a snake chaps?" I shouted excitedly.

"YEHHHHHHHH," came the unanimous reply.








After laughing my head off, I tried to be philosophical about it, in that I suppose the rite of passage into adulthood consists of a series of firsts, but I never expected that touching a cheetah's bumhole would be one of them. Looking on the bright side, it is another thing she can tick off her 'done' list.

I daren't foray into the field of asking which animal bumholes you have touched, so instead I am going to ask you 'which animals do you think look better stuffed than alive?'

P.S. I just found this video of the Natural History Museum on my camera, so I thought I would post it so that you could have a sneaky peek.