The often dubious, politically incorrect and mainly humorous musings of Ms Jane Turley, (Ex) Housewife Extraordinaire.
Tihs posst waaaaaaas going tto be aboooutttt “gulags ” so i loook bra iny as I”m worrird peopke mifgt thimk I’m stipid/ Bit i can@T finnd my asses. GLLASSES (‘m hopping I wil l fiiiid theeeeeM by tomotoe/ TOMMORROE Leavvvvvw ideas for H pleass/ fetting old is shhit/
This is going to be one of my rare intimate posts. This is a post where you discover something about me and I get to, hopefully, discover something about you! So don’t forget to leave me one of your fantasies in the comments. Okay so here are my top twenty fantasies: 1. I win the ManBooker prize. 2.I win the Nobel prize for literature. 3. I win the Nobel Prize for literature and the ManBooker prize in the same year – for different books. (I’ve always been ambitious.) 4. I bump into Tom Cruise at Harrods and say “Oh I am so sorry…. Oh you look familiar….Now don’t tell me…. you’re… your’e… Justin Bieber.” 5. Our Prime Minister, Mrs May, invites me to be the Minister for Literature. I decline because I am too busy on the international book circuit talking about my Nobel prize for literature and my ManBooker
So I’ve had a couple of suggestions from my writer friend Derrick LoRusso for today’s E post. He recommended I write about the words “equestrian” or the “European Union.” Which are both better suggestions than the only word I’ve come up today which is “eggplant.” I have no idea why “eggplant” keeps popping into my head. Now, no offense to my lovely American friends but calling a vegetable an eggplant which looks nothing like an egg is completely nuts. When I imagine an eggplant instead of looking like this: It looks like this: And when I imagine a European Union eggplant it looks like this: As for “equestrian,” Derrick told me I should write about it because us Brits are obsessed with horse riding, polo and fox hunting etc etc. However, I am going to have to come clean and admit that the only horses I am interested in are the
The only word beginning with D that has been cropping in my mind all day in order to write about tonight is “Divorce”- even though I’d already decided I wasn’t going to write about it. So I’d been putting off writing all day, hoping some other word would come into my mind, so a few minutes ago, as it’s almost the UK 12pm deadline, I decided to go to one of those random word generators for some much-needed inspiration. I requested ten words, beginning with D…and the second word that came up was… divorce. Spooky. The first word was directory. Anybody want me to write about “directory”? I doubt it. Maybe some weird techy geek with a telephone directory fetish, but that’s about it. Okay, so I’m going to write about divorce, as that kind of spooky stuff is fate’s way of telling me it’s okay to let loose. But I
I was contemplating a few words over the course of the day for tonight’s post including castration, conception and carol singers but it’s already 10.30pm, I’ve done three hours of housework, two hours of commuting and a nine-hour working day so my brain is fried. I finally got home at 9.30pm, cooked tea for my youngest son and will be leaving the house at 11pm to pick up another from a nearby town so I think I’m just going to go for “cream crackered” instead. If you’ve not heard of the expression”Cream crackered” it is a slang phrase here in the UK which means “knackered”- or to put it politely – very, very tired. Cockney rhyming slang is particularly prevalent in the East End of London although some expressions like Cream crackered have filtered into wider usage. Essentially, Cockney rhyming slang is a group of phrases used by Cockneys as expressions instead of using
To fully appreciate this post it is best to read my A is for Anno Domini post. (Scroll down.) Julie knew, before she had been in Brighton three hours, that he meant to corrupt her. With his smooth fingers, and manicured nails, his manner charming and sophisticated, anyone could tell he didn’t belong – belong to the early summer sun, the cool Whitsun wind off the sea, the normal crowd of dental hygienists who worked in Sunny Smiles Dental Practice. They came in by the front door every five minutes, swaying down Queen’s Road after closing, teetering on their high heels. But he was different – for a start he was a man in a female-dominated role and, secondly, for a man of his obvious attractions, he’d slipped discreetly through the side door whereas other handsome men of his demeanor might come through the main entrance reveling in the attention of female
So it’s the beginning of the A to Z challenge. It’s going to be a challenging month for me as due to my usual lack of diligence I have not prepared anything. This will probably be exacerbated by the fact that this particular month I also intend to petition for divorce which is the reason for the change to my blog title from The Witty Ways of a Wayward Wife to The Witty Ways of a Wayward Woman and from Housewife Extraordinaire to Creative Extraordinaire. However, I’m not set on “Creative Extraordinaire” so if any you have any zany ideas feel free to fire away. In fact, my original blog title was the result of a competition I had on my blog after I discovered my original title Jane Turley, Diary of a Mad Housewife was being used by a woman to rant about her husband. Hmm…. All things considered, we’d better not go
It’s the April A to Z next month which I have enjoyed enormously the last two years. However, with my life currently up shit creek (no point putting rose-tinted glasses on), working full-time, commuting two hours day and organising my three boys, I’m not sure whether I’ll have the time or stamina to complete it. And yet I feel I should try as over the last few years I have lost a great deal and If I give up writing and my freedom to express I will lose even more. And I can’t allow that to happen. I have always been a creative. I will probably die creatively – perhaps while parachuting into France on a horse. Anyway, by the end of the year, I suspect my life will have changed even more and I will need to think creatively if I am to support myself and my children. So I might as
I forgot to get my beef out of the freezer for our New Year’s Day meal. Bah humbug. So shall I go out and get some or go with frozen pizza? Hmm… Maybe I’ll just create a new Turley Surprise dish – pizza slices on a bed of Yorkshire pudding and brussel sprouts. With gravy. Could be a winner.
Today my blog is ten years old. It is, frankly, a miracle I have kept this blog up for so long. Who would have guessed that this blog which was started on a whim with a glass of wine in my hand would last so long! However, this last year has been my least productive in terms of writing with only 33 blogs posted and no new novels. This is due to a dramatic change in my personal circumstances which is reflected in the subtle change in my blog title. I intend to keep on blogging but it will be a while before I am organised enough to find time to blog frequently or to continue with the novels that lie dormant in my files as I am back working full-time and looking after my boys’ welfare in my spare hours takes priority over my creative endeavours. The last year has been
The Automobile Ass. Dear Sirs, In reference to your recent email stating, “We believe we have resolved this matter for you”, my response is “No, you have not.” In fact, I have resolved this matter by a) cancelling my insurance policy with you and b) informing your staff that I will never be using the services of the AA again. In addition, I will also be writing to my MP to advise him of the deeply prejudicial policies victimising those who work in the arts that the AA and its underwriter’s support. As an author with an alternative full-time occupation who would have been charged an extra £500 on my policy for having a part-time “risky” profession, I will delight in putting my writing skills to good use whilst I compose my epistle. I will also take pleasure in penning it as I luxuriously sip a glass of champagne and nibble chocolates whilst
There was a zoologist called Ziggy Who fell for a sweet-hearted piggy They made love in her sty Beneath a moonlit sky And wallowed in mud with a ciggy
