Yes, I have had three glasses of wine as I am off work for a few days as I am self-isolating prior to a minor medical procedure. I am, therefore, feeling a little ribald. So, I decided to write a poem.   Now, before some of my lovely American readers go apeshit, please remember this a comedy blog (even if it has been slightly lacking in humour for a while.) As a consequence, the poem is in my usual eloquent style which required some deep thought for all of 5 minutes.  Here we go: There was an old man called Trump Who had a particularly small lump For a brain He lost an election Got a floppy erection And was never seen or heard of Again. Quality stuff – although the last line is probably rather optimistic. Let’s face it who doesn’t want to see more of Mr Trump. He is

A few months ago I was generously given a phone as mine kept dying on me and the battery was one of those irreplaceable ones. I duly set-up facial recognition in addition to a password. Unfortunately, since then it has only recognised my face… maybe once. I can’t decide whether on the day I set it up I was looking astonishing gorgeous or completely hideous… or perhaps like a female version of Boris Johnson. I think Boris and I have a lot in common at the moment. He looks completely shagged-out running the country during the pandemic and the Brexit crisis; I looked completely shagged-out through the stress of my elongated divorce. We both look our ages of 55. I used to look ten years younger but lately, I am looking battered. The only real differences between us are that  Boris has a 32-year-old girlfriend, a top job and a

On Wednesday I had a meeting with my solicitor, a pensions actuary and my husband’s barrister. I had been told to expect my husband and his solicitor in the virtual meeting room.  (Yes, that’s right. Over 4 years since my separation I still don’t have a Decree Absolute and still no financial settlement. Consequently, life is very difficult for myself and my sons.) The meeting was scheduled for 12pm to suit my husband’s requirements. However, he didn’t turn up and no apologies were made. Instead, he sent his barrister rather than his solicitor. Of course, the reason my husband didn’t turn up is that he is too afraid to face me himself. Too afraid I will call him out in front of other professionals.  Anyway, during the course of the meeting, my husband’s barrister treated me like he was at court hearing. Trying to qualify everything I said in a

Apparently, many people are more aware of their dreams at the moment because they are resting and sleeping more.  Some dreams appear to be related to the pandemic in that they feature, perhaps obscurely, death, fear and isolation. Others are less obvious and related to parts of our lives we are missing during the pandemic – like food for example. This makes complete sense. However, I am someone who generally doesn’t sleep that well but I do occasionally have quite vivid, obscure and often frightening dreams. Sometimes I experience sleep paralysis. Last night, I had an entirely different dream. I rarely dream about people in the public eye. The last one was Hugh Grant. (Hey ho.) But last night I dreamt about Boris Johnson, our PM, currently laid up in hospital with Coronavirus. Basically, I dreamt I was having sex with Boris. I have no idea what this means (other than

We have an expression in the UK “dressed to kill” which is an expression for basically making the most of your appearance and trying to look as attractive as possible. Now when you reach my grand old age of 55, dressing to kill takes some skill. It’s also preferable to have a large glass of gin before you look in the mirror. Because you look a lot better when your vision is blurred. You can also try and kid yourself you’re only 39. I have been telling my boys I am 39 for years. I don’t think they believe me any more. Well, not since the tooth fairy quit. Now, even though I’m past my prime, when I go to work, I attempt to look as smart as possible with clean, pressed clothes and fresh make-up. I find a trowel is excellent for putting on my foundation and a kids’

I had a look back at my previous B posts for the A to Z and saw that I’d come with Bullshit (a personal favourite) Brighton Cock (a spin on Brighton Rock, the novel by Grahame Greene),  Balls and Breasts and Balderdash. An eclectic choice, I feel. So, to live up to my previous posts I decided to opt for the words Baloney and Bog Rolls. Now, in order to make sure I am not misinforming people I decided to check out the definition of baloney. I discovered there were in fact, three definitions. The first is a sausage, the second is a resident of Bologna, Italy. The third fundamentally describes this blog which means nonsense. So, to incorporate the two themes have come with an (almost) nonsense poem: Bog Rolls. Bog Rolls, I like them. Soft and cushy on my bottom. It’s a pity I don’t have any ‘Cos some fucker

So, here I am on April Fool’s Day back here on my blog unprepared, as ever, to participate in the A to Z. I have zero ideas what I am going to write about so as usual this is where I say to myself: Oh crap, why did you commit to this? You arsehole, Turley. Hmm. Arsehole. I suppose I could make a blog out of that. Mind you, that wouldn’t be very lady-like. And, possibly, as any post using the word arsehole might make reference to Mr Trump it might alienate my lovely American readers. So, no can do. Oh okay, let clutch at some straws. Apples? Okay, they’re round and green. Sometimes red. Even a bit pinkish. They can be crunchy. They are super for making cider from though. If only I had some cider… Oh, and a couple of hours ago, I found some old wrinkled apples

I was clearing down some of my emails this morning while I was looking for a particular email and came across a number of emails dating back to my early blogging days. It brought me back here to my blog and remembering the immense fun I used to have blogging and reading blogs from all around the world. Sadly, most of those blogs have now died out. After 12 years of blogging, I don’t want mine to die out, so here I am with an update.  In October, my Decree Nisi was passed by the Family Court. It has taken this long as I have had far too many problems and obstacles to overcome – getting divorced was the least of my problems. For example, since September 2016, I have had 7 jobs.  Job no 1 (4 months) – Left to join a rival company (Job no 2) for a