I have been missing in action and feel shit for not being here when people look up the blog and see it’s not been updated. I am like this in life just now as well. Recently I have been feeling decidedly odd and out of sorts…maybe the menopause is about to kick in and I will have a fucking legitimate reason to shake my husband till his brain bleeds.
We stopped off at Hadrian’s Wall on the way home from Newcastle. I was amazed at the sheer amount of stuff left behind by the invading Romans! I saw bath houses, forts, governor houses and at least 8 billion brooches, pins, pots, bricks and small glass things. It came to my brain that those farmers who have plots of land all over the borders must have come across YET ANOTHER fucking Roman bathhouse or fort.
I imagine they just quickly covered it up and shouted to their workers “Tommy, hide it quick, bury that Roman coin and slightly soiled complete dinner set…I need somewhere to graze my fucking sheep, the English Heritage people can kiss my hairy ass”
How many Roman forts do we need? Two I guess to convince the UK school kids that the Romans were here!
As I stood on those beautiful frost kissed fields looking out at what the Roman sentry men must have looked at I wondered how they must have felt when they met mad ginger headed Scottish women who would possibly only fuck them if they got a decent ‘sheepshead handbag’ in return or the men would get their arses kicked!
Scottish women can be demanding, this I know because I had baby Abi over to my house on a visit. She is two and can talk more than me….trust me that’s loads. Anyway I took her a walk along my main road and there was a huge inflated wobbly Santa Claus standing outside the electronics shop, he stood 15 feet tall and Abi gazed at him, walked around him and chatted away to herself…then she stood still, her big brown eyes stared at the Santa Clauses leg, she poked her wee finger into a long gaping rip in his shin and shouted “Santa has been stabbed!” I looked closely and there was long slit that did look like a knife wound in his leg, it was accompanied with many small cigarette burns!
Only in Glasgow would Santa be stabbed and routinely abused with fag burns!
We went back to the flat where Abi got all hot and tired and decided to try to comb my hair with the lumpy plastic legs of a Ninja Turtle…fuck it hurt as the green plastic evil McDonalds toy got tangled in my tuggy matted curls.
“I am trying to make you pretty” Abi huffed as she further trapped the toy into my scalp! I had to cut it out; I now have a baldy bit where a Ninja Turtle got trapped! Explain that to my hairdresser.
I am now in Middlesbrough near Redcar, where I stayed for a year in 1978. I was only 17 and me and my mate Maggie lived in the wee seaside town. So it feels weird being here now.
I will let you all know how it goes._