Tuesday, September 12, 2006


The Lisbon holiday, as mentioned previously, has now been cancelled due to *circumstances beyond our control*. With all of the threats of customer officers foraging around in various bodily orifices, and, even worse, my not being able to take lipstick on board the flight, the cancellation has come as a bit of a relief.

Yesterday we spent the day in Deal, which was actually pretty enjoyable.

Visiting coastal towns is definitely recommended out of season and during school terms, if possible. Deal benefited from the lack of tiresome eleven year old boys running people over on bikes, toddlers darting about and dropping ice cream, bands playing Show Me The Way To Amarillo to an indifferent audience of sleeping pensioners and burger guzzling, arguing famileees, and that gang of fourteen year olds who managed to extort twenty five pence out of us last year so they could "get the bus cuz we've run out of mon-eeee" with piss-taking "oooh, FANK YOU's" when the husband paid up ... little bastards.

Yeah, bollocks to human beings. They really spoil EVERYTHING.

Anyway, we also benefited from freakishly summery weather.

Heh heh, you HATE us, don't you?

We did a lovely walk along the coastal path adjacent to the sea, with views over the country side. This had the added advantage of not being over rugged stony paths. I was wearing my gold sandals with the bows on the front, and don't *do* any sort of practical footwear (trainers and the like) unless absolutely required to (hearty, muddy winter rambles in the South Downs for instance).

Later we sat on the shingley, virtually deserted beach.

A chance to imbibe what must surely be the last day of summer: a shimmery sea and sky that melted together in the mist in the style of an impressionist painting; the occasional yacht or boat in the distance; one or two people swimming; a juvenile herring gull pecking at a polystyrene chip container and systematically walking along the beach looking for anything vaguely edible like a surly vagrant looking for cigarette butts; a couple of blokes in a speedboat, one of them shouting "I'M DESPERATE FOR A PISS"; the gentle lapping of the sea against the shingle.

I realise that my descent into old age is complete.

Nothing makes me happy apart from Getting Away From It All.

Or most of it, at any rate.

My first thought when the new air regulations came in was "I can't take lippy on board!" I've turned into my mother.
Getting Away From It All or Getting Away From Them All?

There's nothing better than summer weather in September, when you've resigned yourself to the fact that summer's over. On Sunday afternoon a few of us sat in the sun watching an amateur cricket match in Abingdon - it could have been July. Marvellous - though I'm now paying for it with a dose of sunburn.
MJ - I think I must have turned into my mother when I was about thirteen then. My dad used to say to me "your mum couldn't even face paying the milkman without full make up on" and I've turned out exactly the same.

Ben - fair enough, Getting Away From THEM All.

The problem is, during the really sunny weather in September you feel under obligation to enjoy yourself because you know it won't last for more than a day or two.
When 'paying the milkman ' did she also wear nylon nightie and negligee set and fluffy mules?
No, that was me paying the Vernon's Pools man. I used to invite him in for a glass of egg flip.

My mother was much more sensible, so it would have been a floor length candlewick dressing gown and long flannel nightie with those tartan slippers with the pom poms on. She didn't have any designs on Norman, the scouse milkman.
As a Charles Hawtrey fan I demand my money back!
I also had a nice sunny day out in Huddersfield. No beach - but you can't have everything and they didn't go anywhere near my orifices.
It sounds like we had the same mum. My mum couldn't take out the garbage without lippy. Are you my long lost sister?
*hopes you have pots of money and a full liquor cabinet*
I'm wrong. We're not sisters. My mum wore marabou mules.
"I was wearing my gold sandals with the bows on the front, and don't *do* any sort of practical footwear "


This has completely ruined my vision of Betty being just like me (the curly hair), except very slightly older, with a husband.

Maybe if I invest in some non-practical footwear, I'll meet a nice man like Geoff...
Kaz - did you expect me to give you all the inside information on Charles Hawtrey and all the cavorting he did with sailors in Deal? Sorry, I don't have any showbusiness connections, and all I can offer is "blimey, what a carry on" (arff).

I'm glad to see that orifices aren't foraged with in Huddersfield. I'm sure Charles Hawtrey could have told you a very different story about orifice foraging in Deal ...

MJ - hi sis! My mother told me I had a dead twin and I always used to identify with Elvis Presley! This is a shock to me and it may take months to get over ...

My mother's favourite lipstick shade was some orange Max Factor think which I could never wear with my colouring ... she didn't wear marabou mules but I once had a shocking pink pair.

Spinsterella - I like the "very slightly older" (thirteen years, actually).

Oh God, I should say that I didn't walk the Deal coastal path in six inch stilletoes - they were flat backless shoes. I don't wear anything sporty (fleeces, "high tech" nylon, trainers) because I was traumatised by PE at school.

Anyway, I'm not suggesting that wearing trainers will condemn you to a life of sitting in a bedsit with five cats, joining the Cliff Richard Fan Club and finding God late in life ... unless you want to live that kind of life and there's nothing wrong with it ...

... not that I'm trying to stereotype single women, or rather I'm just doing it in a tongue in cheek way ...

... I mean I was more or less single 'til I was 31 and couldn't keep a relationship going because I was bored with men, who were pretty much useless as a gender ...

... not that I'm having a go at ALL men ...


Oh bleedin' hell, I'm starting to haemorrhage readers and it's all because of my inappropriate remarks about footwear!
Did you not fancy a cup of tea with non-dairy creamer in then?
No. Can't drink coffee or tea anyway, and I don't think I could have stretched to the extra seventy pence.
I think you were very wise.

We will be in Kent all next month and may well pay a visit to Deal ourselves. The weather will probably be slightly more dour and the amusement arcade will be shut but it could be bracing all the same. I've not been to Pegwell Bay since 1978 so I might just get adventurous.
Well, be prepared for the weather - there'll probably be a chilly Siberian style wind which will give you an unpleasant headache.

Not that I want to put you off or owt ...
i think gold 'bar mitzvah' sandals are perfect - for the beach or anywhere you want to feel pretty-on-the-go!

i'm trying a new 'Fredricks of Hollywood copy' style.

'planes, trains or the south of Spain...no gal should leave home without her Revlon fave 'Thats RED!' in its' handy purse size tube!'
Oh Betty, I'm of hardy stock. I've spent many a night camped on Deal Pier in sub-zero temperatures not catching fish and watching my car get broken into in the Royal Hotel car park.

FN -"...for the beach or anywhere you want to feel pretty-on-the-go!" should be followed by "just around the corner from this cinema. De daa de daa de daa da daa da da da."

English joke.
First Nations - I like the idea of feeling-pretty-on-the-go but it's been getting more and more difficult to achieve for about er, the past twenty years, sob.

"From Lake Geneva to the Finland Station, no gal should be without her all-in-one kagoule/shopping bag/dog coat. Stay pretty in the rain!"

(can't get the hang of it).

Richard - didn't make it as far as Deal pier this time. Face it, it's not the most exciting of piers for non-fishermen, is it?
I'm still posting here because my comment disappeared from the other one.

Top full English though in the caff at 9am on a Sunday morning. It was actually designed as a fishing pier, that's why the amusement arcade is pants.
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