101/1001 (Week 137)

The last time I updated you about this challenge was in May.  If I don’t want to write a post five pages long in 41 days’ time, I’d better update you on my progress now.*

*Short break while I update the 101/1001 Page*

*Long break while I updated the 101/1001 Page

There’s rather a lot to tell, so I won’t bother with it all today.  I will just share some of Task 15:

Expose myself to twenty new experiences (14/20)

1. I tried a gin and tonic.

Writer’s Block 1 (Photo credit: NathanGunter) After one G&T, I’m guessing

It was offered to me at, of all things, a church luncheon, by one of the wardens.  We were in her home and she found it at the back of the fridge, I hasten to add – she doesn’t keep it stashed under the cassocks for emergencies.  

I don’t think.

I had never drunk gin before.  And I never will again.  Foul stuff.

One thing in its favour, however, is that it gave me the courage for new experience number

2. Said, ‘I am a writer.’

The idea of the church monthly bring & share lunch is that people get to know each other.   One way of getting to know each other is by asking questions about each other.*

*Based on this paragraph, I think saying, ‘I am a writer’ may be a disservice to writers everywhere, at the very least; and an outrageous lie at best.

I asked an other what she did; she told me. For the purpose of our story, I won’t bore you with the details; you will have to be content with the boredom emitting from this long-winded paragraph instead.  The other then asked me what I did.  I opened my mouth to say, as I have done for the past twenty-three years, ‘I am a housewife,’  but what came out was, ‘I am a writer.’

I’ve been published in many anthologies, hard copy and online; I’ve been placed in several writing competitions; I regularly critique others’ work, some of which has been published; I have been posting on this blog for three and a half years; I am a member of poetry group Write Out Loud;  I give poetry readings; I run occasional writing workshops (even more occasionally, people turn up for them, but my writing flesh is at least willing even if their spirit is weak); I am a founder member and de facto manager of Stockport Writers.

I think it’s okay now to say, ‘I am a writer.’

Besides, I’ve never earned money from it: writing credentials don’t come any better than that.

Fresh (and flushed) from that triumph, I followed it up with

I am a writer. (Photo credit: DavidTurnbull)

3. When asked my occupation on an official form, I wrote, ‘Writer’.

I still blush at my temerity. It’s one thing to say it with your mouth; something else altogether to say it with a pen.

At that same church lunch (who knew these events were so exciting?) I also

4. Drank ginger beer for the first time.

But not lashings of it, Famous Five fans!

It was…okay. I didn’t taste ginger and I didn’t taste beer, but it washed away the taste of gin and tonic, so that’s a big thumbs-up from me.

Virgin Trains First Class (Photo credit: David McKelvey)

5. Travelled First Class

My London adventure refers.

It was on a train, not a plane, but I’ll take my free inedible sandwich where I can get it, thank you very much.

6. Went to a university Open Day

We never did it with Tory Boy because he spent a week or two at Lancaster the summer after his GCSEs and knew that Lancaster was where he wanted to go. I always felt a bit cheated, but the second son made up for his brother’s defect by dragging me to Sheffield a couple of weeks ago, as I told you.

There you have it!  These six things I had never done before bring me up to 20/20 new experiences, but that’s not quite it.  

However, this post is already too long for a Friday afternoon, so you’ll have to wait for the rest.

Proud Mama

I have two gorgeous sons.  That’s not why I’m proud, though I am proud.

They are kind and generous and hard-working.  That’s one reason I’m proud.  Or three, to be accurate.

I have a post coming up about Tory Boy; today I’m going to tell you about Spud.

From the age of four, Spud wanted to be an actor.  He played the lead in many a school production, including The Very Hungry Caterpillar – his Munch munch, munch munch was Oscar-worthy, in my opinion – and Jonah and the Whale.  I must try to upload the video of his singing I Need A Boat.  Adorable.

The Hub and I were convinced he was going to make a career in acting.  We were anxious but accepting, because he is a natural.  Then he went to high school and discovered rugby.  Rugby practise clashed with drama club and drama club lost. Our flab had never been so ghasted.

Rugby was abandoned after three years – too many wet and freezing early Saturday mornings and not enough aggression on his part to be a serious player. He was enthusiastic but nice – not a winning combination in rugby.  I was relieved when he gave it up, especially after the time he was knocked senseless for a minute.  I couldn’t watch him play; it hurt me too much.  I have plenty of photos of his scrapes and bruises if I feel nostalgic.

He never went back to drama, however.   We couldn’t convince him.  He has a full week with long school days, hours of homework each night and weekend, and his Manchester City season ticket, so we didn’t push it.  He said he wanted to concentrate on his GCSEs, knowing that no parent is going to argue with a child who claims he wants to work hard to pass his exams.  Did I mention he was clever?  And a little manipulative?

In September of this year he entered Sixth Form.  For my non-UK readers, that means two years of tough exams which must be passed to enter university at eighteen.  However, universities require more than good exam results; they want to see evidence of extra-curricular activity.  Spud became a mentor for new pupils starting high school; joined the climbing club; volunteered to help at school open events (we have always had to press-gang him into this; we insisted on it, because of how much the school is spending on him.  He just wanted to stay home and do homework.  Yeah, right; we believe you, Spud); and – wait for it – auditioned for the school’s Classics play.

Considering it has been five years since he’s done any acting to speak of, he did well to get the part of The Messenger, the third-biggest role.

It wasn’t enough for him.  A sign went up in school:

Shakespeare’s ‘The Tempest’  – auditions.  

The auditions took the form of workshops, then call-backs for the bigger parts, then more call-backs (this school takes its drama productions seriously).  Spud read parts of the text, had me drill him in the story, and watched clips on You Tube.  He couldn’t find a complete version on the internet, or he’d have watched that as well.

Spud desperately wanted to win the leading role of Prospero.

Prospero and Miranda from a painting by William Maw Egley; ca. 1850 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Spud won the leading role of Prospero.

That’s not why I’m proud, though I am thrilled.  I am proud because of something that happened in one of his auditions.  The teacher had the students read different parts together.  Spud and his partner finished reading and the teacher said to him, ‘Thank you.  You were excellent.’  

Spud was pleased to be complimented, of course, but mortified for his partner.   He immediately made a point of telling the teacher that if he was any good, it was thanks to his partner working with him.

I’m proud because he made sure to give credit to his friend, and because he was embarrassed to be singled out at the expense of someone else.

I don’t want my children to boast about themselves.  That’s my job.

 

Joke 600

From writersjokes.

The Mouth that Roared | 292/365 (Photo credit: mfhiatt)

A hungry lion came across two men. One was sitting under a tree, reading a book; the other was typing away on his typewriter.

The lion pounced on the man reading the book and devoured him.  He ignored the man who was typing.

Even the king of the jungle knows that readers digest, and writers cramp.

Remembrance Sunday

 

NaNoWriMo Day 8

Yes, well…

If you recall, I’m attempting NaNoWriMo, to settle an argument with the Hub as to whether I have a novel in me or not.

To be considered a ‘winner’ it is necessary to write 1667 words a day to reach the target of 50,000 words.

Day One: Full of enthusiasm even though I think I don’t have a novel in me.  Easily reach the target.  Don’t mind the Hub winning this one.

Day Two:  Still enthusiastic,  the book is writing itself.  Come on, publishers, start courting me!

Day Three:  Busy day, don’t start writing until six p.m., by which time I’m ready for bed.  Drig out a thossand words of my comedey navel.

Day Four:  Another busy day.  Start at five.  Comedy is killed by a mystery element.  Hmm, write a murder mystery of sorts, but keep the housewife and the traffic warden?  Nine hundred words.

Day Five: 

Day Six: Wrote nothing yesterday because of everything I had to do in real life. However, only 1700 words behind.  I’ll soon catch up.  A thousand words.  Only 2400 words behind.  I’ll catch up.

Day Seven: Managing to make the traffic warden sexy.  Don’t know how, because I’ve never met one, and he’s modelled on the Hub.  Oops!  Discover the power of words: but he’s modelled on the Hub.  Only 3583 words behind.  Will I catch up?

Day Eight: Make a model of the computer and stick pins in it.

If I do have a novel in me, it’s trite, dull and meaningless.

They say you should write what you know.

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For my non-Brit readers, a definition:

Traffic Warden: Evil creature sent to torment innocent drivers who only parked illegally for five minutes but it was urgent and yes, they know the rules of the road apply to them as well but, please, officer, please, please, please, my partner will kill me if I get another ticket…

 

Joke 586

Vines (Photo credit: Ted & Dani Percival)

From punoftheday.

I wrote a novel about a fellow who had a small garden.

It didn’t have much of a plot.

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I love one-liners like this (it’s only on two lines because space is limited), so I found a few more for you on the Telegraph website, of all places.

Tim Vine (this one won him an award):

Conjunctivitis.com – that’s a site for sore eyes.

Tim with another award winner:

I’ve just been on a once-in-a-lifetime holiday. I’ll tell you what, never again.

Matt Kirshen:

I was playing chess with my friend and he said ‘Let’s make this more interesting’. So we stopped playing chess.

Mr Vine again (I’m a fan):

Crime in multi-storey car parks. That is wrong on so many different levels.

 

Joke 544

 

Image via CrunchBase

From ajokeaday.com.  I don’t know if it’s true, but it sure is amusing.

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At a recent computer expo, Bill Gates reportedly compared the computer industry with the auto industry and stated, If GM had kept up with technology like the computer industry has, we would all be driving twenty-five dollar cars that got 1000 miles per gallon.

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General Motors released this statement:

Yes, but would you want your car to crash twice a day? 

Not only that, but…

Every time they repainted the lines on the road you would have to buy a new car. 

Occasionally your car would die on the freeway for no reason, and you would just accept this, restart and drive on. 

Occasionally, executing a maneuver would cause your car to stop and fail and you would have to re-install the engine. For some strange reason, you would accept this too. 

You could only have one person in the car at a time, unless you bought “Car95” or “CarNT”. But, then you would have to buy more seats. 

Macintosh would make a car that was powered by the sun, was reliable, five times as fast, twice as easy to drive, but would only run on five percent of the roads. 

English: Logo of General Motors Corporation. Source: 2007_business_choice_bro_en.pdf (on GM website). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Macintosh car owners would get expensive Microsoft upgrades to their cars, which would make their cars run much slower. 

The oil, gas and alternator warning lights would be replaced by a single “general car default” warning light. 

New seats would force everyone to have the same size butt. 

The airbag system would say, “Are you sure?” before going off. 

If you were involved in a crash, you would have no idea what happened. 

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: Merge

 

I’m late with this one because the summer holiday weeks all merged into one.  

Rather like my children.

Take this photo:

I’m almost certain it is Spud because it’s taken from the left – my hospital bed was on the left wall when I had him and on the right when I had Tory Boy.

Is it terrible that I can recall the position of my beds after childbirth but not what my new children looked like?

The problem is that both boys looked like their father at birth which means they also looked like each other.  It’s been sixteen/twenty-two years and my memory isn’t what it once was, and that wasn’t much.  

I say Spud looked like his father and brother, but he also looked like someone else.  I had him by Caesarian and the anaesthetist (why does childbirth have so many aes?  Coincidentally, A+E stands for Accident and Emergency in the UK – the equivalent of the American ER – and accidents often result in emergencies that include childbirth nine months on.  Well it does in my family), a lovely man, held me up as the gynaecologist (see!) yanked him out.

What emerged was a fat, blue and crinkly Spud.  My first thought – I swear this is true – was, ‘Oh, he looks like the alien baby from V.’

Tell me I’m wrong:

 

Tilly’s Blog Jubilee: Day Three

 

Three Six Word Saturdays To Celebrate:

Today’s My Actual Blogaversary – Three Years!

Hope You’re Enjoying The Old Posts.

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I had great fun last year, tormenting the WordPress prompters who helped us to write a postaday2011.  Rather than show whole posts, I have selected some of my favourite responses.

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What non-exercise activity do you wish would keep you fit?

You all think I’m going to say ‘Eating Maltesers,’ don’t you? Guess again. And keep guessing until I hear something I like, then I’ll use that one.

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Describe the perfect crime.

Someone breaks into my house and cleans it.  If they steal the Hub’s crap, that’s a bonus.

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What’s the biggest lesson you learned so far this year?

WordPress prompters can’t grammar.

 

 

How do you decide who to be friends with?

What’s to decide? In TillyBudland, it’s friend until proven unfriend; I don’t see why I have to choose.  I have disliked very few people in my life, but even then I have been friendly to them. It’s just good manners.

Bonus: What defines the difference between a good friendship vs a close one?

The amount of gifts they bring me.

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If you started a music band, what would the name be?

WordPress & the Prompters.

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If you got a tattoo, what would it be?

News to me.

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Make a prediction about life in 2021.

I will be posting 105 times a day.  You have been warned.

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Describe your first job interview.

Boss: Your Mum says you’ll work hard; is she right?

Me: Yes.

Boss: Here’s your desk.

Who says nepotism’s a bad thing?

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What film have you seen more times than any other?

The Terminator. Sigh. The greatest romance ever.

What? We’ve had this argument before: he came across time for her. I rest my case. 

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Write a sequel to your favorite movie. 

Terminator 5: John Connor finally nails those buggers.

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What is your favorite way to procrastinate?

Let me think about that and get back to you.

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Do you like surprises?

Yes, and if anyone wants to throw me a surprise birthday party when I turn fifty, I promise to enjoy it.

[Not particularly funny; I threw it in as a hint]

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How do you know when it’s time to go?

I get a little damp patch around my lower-middle area.

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Why does corruption exist?

Because it works.

Can it be stopped?

Bung me a fiver and I’ll see what I can do.

What can bloggers do to help?

Lend you a fiver?

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Write about the one that got away.

I lost a Malteser in March 1997. I know this because I found it under my bed in 2006, alongside a copy of a letter typed in the same month. You’ve gotta love carbon dating.

 

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And finally, my all-time favourite response to one of the prompts:

WordPress Asked: Does Grammar Matter?

Does grammar matter?

Faints.

 

 

Joke 402

Thanks to Janie Jones for this one.

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Did Cleopatra believe in ghosts?

No, she was in denial.

Slow Day For Funny

Dull church, Dull, Perth and Kinross (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I read this on Imagine FM’s Facebook page:

No word of a lie, there’s moves to officially twin the Scottish hamlet of Dull with the US town of Boring.

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This came to my inbox.  What does the Arts council have against tall people?

From the Arts Council: Calling all short film makers…

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Spud told us that as he was coming out of school yesterday, he overheard two sixth form girls giggling about a man’s shoe size being the same size as his youknowwhat (he used the correct term; the girls used an explicit term; I’m middle-aged and reporting a rude conversation my teenaged son told me about; ‘youknowwhat’ is all I can manage without fainting).

He couldn’t resist: as he passed them he smiled, winked and said, ‘I’m a size twelve…’

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A picture of a dictionary viewed with a lens on top of it, at the word "Internet" (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Clearing out my draft box the other day, I came across a WordPress prompt and my reply from postaday2011.  Can you believe I missed one?  I know why it was still a draft: it’s not funny.  But I have to flesh out this post somehow, so here you go:

Would you rather have the first word, or the last?

This is a tricky one, because I don’t own an up-to-date dictionary, and it would depend on the dictionary, because they must all be different, or else why would there be so many?  Online dictionaries are useless in this instance because you can’t page through them.

Let me see…thumbsuck…thoughts coming up…in a minute…let me think…thinks…thinks…

‘A’ must be the first word.  ‘Zzz’ must be the last.

A is the start, zzz is sleep.

Start something or sleep?

I would have to say, I’d rather have the last word.

But I’m scouse and we say ‘a’ for ‘hay’ and, despite my Heidi-loving childhood, I’ve never fancied sleeping in ‘ay.

So it’s still the last word.

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Hey – we started with dull and boring; we might as well finish that way.

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F Is For ‘Freshly Pressed’

Which I have never been, in three years of blogging.

[UPDATE: Laurie makes an excellent point – not everyone knows what I’m talking about.  Story of my life.  To be Freshly Pressed is to have a post appear on the front page when you sign out of WordPress.  It leads to a massive hits bump.]

WordPress (Photo credit: Adriano Gasparri)

I’ve been freshly squeezed, by the Hub, back when I was round and firm and orange (we didn’t use sunblock in the Eighties).

I’ve been fresh-faced, back when I was young and round and firm (no matter our ignorance of UV rays, we knew how to say ‘no’ in the Eighties).

I’ve had fresh starts – in South Africa, and then back in the UK.  We knew how to emigrate in the Eighties.

I’ve been a breath of fresh air, before I discovered garlic and my teeth went manky.

I’ve been as a fresh as a daisy, if  ‘Daisy’ is a cow and ‘methane’ is your preferred definition of ‘fresh’.

I was once fresh to the Hub, when we’d been married ten years and I realised it was okay to be saucy upon occasion.

But I have never been Freshly Pressed.

Perhaps it’s because there are 419,999 bloggers on WordPress, who have written 848,252 new posts, or 181,430,211 words.  And that’s just today.

I think the WordPress people stopped reading my blog round about the time I started making fun of them: I took part in postaday2011, and WordPress generously provided 365 prompts to get me writing.  Some examples:

• Would you rather have have the ability to slow down time whenever you want, or to speed it up?  Only when I’m answering daft daft prompts.
• What skill would you most like to learn in 2012?  How to say ‘no’ to ridiculous WordPress prompts.
• Why is there evil in the world?  To prompt WordPress prompters into asking questions I really don’t want to have to answer.
• Explain the difference between socialism, communism and anarachy.  Socialism: The government tells you what to do but lets you think it was your choice.  Communism: The government tells you what to do and gives you no choice.  Anarachy: What happens when WordPress prompters are permitted to do their own spelling.

And here’s my favourite response to one prompt:

Do you think it’s ethical to use unmanned drones in war?

Yes.  Do you know how hard it is to mount a grown man on a bee?

Why on earth would they not want to Freshly Press that?

Every poke has its price.  You have been warned.

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If you enjoy daft answers to daft questions, click on WordPress Prompts in my tag cloud (to the right and scroll down).

Joke 283

New Year Resolutions For Pets

 15. I will not eat other animals’ poop.

14. I will not lick my human’s face after eating animal poop.

13. I do not need to suddenly stand straight up when I’m lying under the coffee table. 

12. My head does not belong in the refrigerator.

11. I will no longer be beholden to the sound of the can opener.

10. Cats: Circulate a petition that sleeping become a juried competition in major animal shows.

 9. Come to understand that cats are from Venus; dogs are from Mars.

8. Take time from busy schedule to stop and smell the behinds.

7. Hamster: Don’t let them figure out I’m just a rat on steroids, or they’ll flush me!

 6. Get a bite in on that freak who gives me that shot every year.

5. Grow opposable thumb; break into pantry; decide for MYSELF how much food is *too* much.

4. Cats: Use new living room sofa as scratching post.

 3. January 1st: Kill the sock! Must kill the sock!  January 2nd – December 31: Re-live victory over the sock.

2. The garbage collector is NOT stealing our stuff.

AND the Number 1 New Year’s Resolutions Made by Pets…

1. I will NOT chase the stick until I see it LEAVE THE IDIOT’S HAND

Weekly Photo Challenge: Winter

Last winter on Gorsey Bank (the walk near our house):

I like snow when it covers street garbage.  The problem is, the garbage might be covered but the garbage is still there.

It might be a bit of a bleak midwinter here at Bud House: ATOS, the government’s benefit attack dogs, have called the Hub in for a medical.  As we hear of people with more serious illnesses being denied state assistance, I can’t help feeling a little anxious. 

I do believe the benefits system should be overhauled, but revolutions often bring casualties amongst those who start them.  Perhaps it will be our punishment for voting Conservative 🙂

In other news, I had my best month: my December stats currently stand at 15,005.  Perhaps I will be discovered, given an obscene book deal, and we can kiss benefits goodbye.

Hope is what keeps me going.  I so hope Bella chooses Jake over Edward.

 

The latest prompt was:

What ordinary skill are you bad at?

How much time do you have?

• Cooking
• Cleaning
• Taking photographs (all non-blurry photos on this blog are the Hub’s work; not mine)
• Driving
• Walking (Spud says I have a wonky walk that is hilarious from behind but difficult to walk alongside)
• Styling my own hair
• Answering prompts sensibly
• Not worrying

Something a little more cheerful:

 Happy New Year to my readers!

Rather an obvious Six Word Saturday, but when I have I ever been disobvious?  Non-obvious?  Unobvious?  Whatever. 

Happy New Year, and thanks for visiting.

Related articles

• Weekly Photo Challenge: Winter (thirdhandart.wordpress.com)
• Weekly Photo Challenge: Winter (beijingcityphoto.wordpress.com)
• http://romceg.wordpress.com/2011/12/30/weekly-photo-challenge-winter/#comment-1275

Joke 282

Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off?  He’s all right now.