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The often dubious, politically incorrect and mainly humorous musings of Ms Jane Turley, (Ex) Housewife Extraordinaire.

#AtoZChallenge 2025

The Truth about Curriculum Vitaes

I am rewriting my curriculum vitae at the moment. It is such a tedious task. The trouble is I have this inherent desire to spice things up but I am trying to restrict myself to being truthful which not only is boring but extremely dull to write. The trouble is when I spice things up I often end up in trouble – a bit like the time when writing up my teaching observations at a drug hostel I decided to offer my five top tips for teaching adolescents. One of those pointers was to “never, ever talk about sex or you might wake up the next morning next to an acne-faced teenager.”  I can’t remember the other four points but they were equally in bad taste. Boy, did I get into trouble for that one. It’s unfortunate that folks just don’t have much humour any more – well not if they work in local government. Which

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Appointment with Theft (A short story.)

“Are you having a coronary?”             Small pieces of Albert’s scone flew over the table cloth. “What, dear?” Albert spluttered, dabbing at the spewed crumbs with his napkin whilst reluctantly looking away from the buxom young lady at the adjoining table. “Your eyes are bulging.”             “Are they? But there’s nothing wrong with me. I was just thinking about…strawberries.” “Strawberries?” “Yes…this is fine strawberry jam indeed. The best I’ve ever had!” Martha sighed. Albert was so predictable. He could home in like a pigeon on any pair of breasts over a 36c. She’d never quite forgiven him for that moment at Brighton beach in 1965 when, after a whole day drooling like a rabid dog over Doris Fleming’s bosom, Doris had slapped him across the choppers. Albert’s obsession was humiliating, but at least it allowed Martha to focus on her

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When Lying Comes Easy

A lot of people think a third world war will start in the Middle East. I think it’s more likely to happen on the edge of a tennis court somewhere in the English Home Counties. You know, I’m convinced that if all the irate tennis mums channelled their energies into politics this country would soon be back on its feet again. The threat of terrorism would be wiped out instantly. Some butch tennis mum yelling “Let your balls stray on my court Mr Foreigner and you are in big trouble!” would have even the most harden terrorist quaking in his boots. This is because a tennis mum is a ticking time bomb which can spontaneously explode unleashing a whirlwind of aggression and mayhem. I’ve heard stories where some tennis mums have actually come to blows. And I’m not kidding! I hasten to add that this is not the lovely Mrs T (who once or twice

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Stephen Hawking and the Case of the Reborn Doll

The great scientist Stephen Hawking, author of A Brief History of Time, doesn’t understand women. Well that’s a relief. I was worried that his seismic career might end with a whimper with some curious titles like A Brief History of Women in Stockings  or The Universe is a Women’s Mind or possibly even Black Underwear and Baby Slings and Other Essays. But fortunately, Mr Hawking hasn’t got to grips with women yet so we won’t be subjected to any such titles which is a huge relief. I would have felt compelled to purchase them just to see if his theories were right. However, it turns out Mr Hawking is the same as any other man – he doesn’t have a inkling about women. Praise the Lord. I wouldn’t want my female cunning to be exposed. Yep, I’ve been married for over 20 years and Mr T still hasn’t got a clue what’s going on in my head.

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Season’s Greetings

Happy New Year Everyone! 2011 has been a very hard year for many people around the globe. So I hope that wherever you are and whatever your circumstances the new year brings you all peace, prosperity and good health.  My best wishes to you and your families. And a big Thank You for taking timeout to read my blog. Jane

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Is Bjork Bonkers?

Let’s take bets. I’m only giving evens. It’s time for another of my Christmas Musical countdowns which, you may have guessed, is Bjork. So here she is singing Crystallline on the Jools Holland show back in November. I was fascinated by her performance – and the song has quite an addictive equality to it as well. A pretty good song there me thinks. Strangely addictive. Bjork is defintely an original artist. But I have to ask – what the hell was going on with the 1980s’ disco culottes and the platform boots? And that hair? She looks like she had an accident with some candy floss and a bucket of sick. And what is this current craze with false eyelashes about? Apparently sales of false eyelashes have rocketed recently. To be honest, I think when you’re eyes are so loaded up with mascara and lashes like Bjork it just looks like you’ve got two dead blowflies on your face

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The Indiana Jane Chronicles

One of the things I’ve noticed as I get older is that I spend considerably more time looking for things. Unfortunately, the Fedora, the bull whip and the constant references to historical objects have not convinced Mr T that my quests are anything but acute memory loss. Not even all my diaries and notepads covered in scribbles and doodles have convinced Mr T that I am the next Indiana Jones. Yeah, yeah I suppose my Ford Cmax isn’t really a convincing Ark but, believe me, those keys to it are extremely difficult to find. Although definitely not as hard to find as the Holy Grail. (My glasses.) You know, the other day I spent a good ten minutes searching the tennis clubhouse for my reading glasses only to discover them on my head. I’m not saying I felt stupid but when someone asked me what I was looking for and I replied “my glasses” and they raised an amused eyebrow I

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The Dangers of Men in Suits

When I was a child I was a movie addict – I still am but now I have less time to watch as many films as I would like. My tastes back then varied from war movies, psychological thrillers and dramas to musicals where suited men like Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly danced the night away with glamorous leading ladies dressed in sequins and pearls. These days, movies which contain dancing are comparatively rare and when you do see them the men are usually a lot more risqué in their clothing and dance moves. No woman can fail to smile at the thought of Patrick Swayze bare chested in Dirty Dancing but does he really beat Gene Kelly tap dancing in those puddles in Singing in the Rain? I once saw Tommy Steele perform the same routine at the London Palladium. I was so mesmerized by Tommy I even failed to notice his teeth. Anyhow, I’ve noticed that suited men

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Dear Santa No 2

Dear Santa, There was something I forgot to mention yesterday. Please, please, please can you not send my boys any Lego. I know it’s selfish of me to ask but you have no idea how many hours I’ve spent picking up those darn pieces. Once, I even got trapped under the bed for three hours trying to rescue a miniature Lego Star Wars light sabre. I know I shouldn’t have put on weight but frankly if Lego didn’t exist the world would be a much safer place. Then there’s been times I’ve got up in the night with my insomnia only to find myself hopping in agony in the hallway whilst emitting a silent scream having trodden on a rogue piece of Lego. Then there’s been the countless hours I’ve been forced to spend building replicas of the Taj Mahal, the Houses of Parliament and the Eiffel Tower. It’s not easy building those things

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Dear Santa…

Dear Santa, I haven’t written to you in a really really long time but this year I have a very special request. I am desperate.  I have not been able to find what I want anywhere and I need some help. Please, please, please, please can I have some jeans that fit? You know – those ones that stay up without a belt and super glue and don’t regularly fall down showing your arse to the whole world. I don’t think it’s much to ask and I have been a (fairly) good girl this year and well I don’t really want to trouble Him Upstairs. Cos the chance is he’s more into robes and wings and stuff and I reckon on your 364 days off you probably ditch that red gear and wear faded denims. You probably look really cool – a bit like a trendy Kenny Rogers. Only with Reindeer

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Christmas Musical Countdown No 2

What I want to know is how a ten year old boy can be such a lethal weapon? This morning the boys missed the school bus and as a result I was subjected to a car journey of extremely odious proportions. I literally felt sick! In fact, I had to open the windows and speed up from a stately 50mph to 60mph just to get some fresh air circulating in the car. Then, to top it all, Master Ben says; “I didn’t get sent to the Headteacher when we had sex education.” “Oh yes? And why were children sent to the Headteacher?” “For laughing and giggling.” “And what did you do?” “Oh, I just pulled this face.” Mrs T looks in mirror and sees THAT face. The “Mr Smug, I know it all, are you really wasting my time with this?” face. Ten years old. I have a problem on my hands. Hmm. Here’s another of

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Christmas Musical Countdown

Phew. I finished my IT course and passed. I’ve done two courses this autumn; the IT course and a teaching course. I haven’t really decided what I’m going to do with the qualifications but one has to be practical and should I need to return to work they could prove valuable. My heart lies with the arts and I’ve always leaned towards creative expression be it with theatre, music, art and of course, writing. Unfortunately, the realities of life means that often we don’t get to do the things we want to do most. There’s probably a good chance I will always remain the frustrated artist! Anyhow, now my courses are finished and I am beginning to make my Christmas preparations I thought it would be fun to play some of my favourite musical tracks of the year over the coming days. I’m a pop gal so don’t expect any big surprises. So I’ll begin with my current favourite –

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