Hester

I got a little more than I bargained for when I popped into the bakers for an egg custard this morning. I was quietly shuffling around at the front of the queue when Hester, the rather loud and ample bakery owner ushered me to the till and gave me a sly wink as she handed me my desert.
'I hoped you would come in today,' she hissed as if under surveillance. I looked at her quizzically.
'I saw your ad,' she mouthed silently. She pulled a saucy face. I tried to look blank but slowly felt myself redden as the other customers looked onto this strange charade.
She pushed her soft fleshy frame from behind the counter.
'I thought you might want to join me,' she said thrusting a flyer into my palm. 'I'm going as Lady Lucifer. I'd love you to come.'
I did not dare look at the invite for fear of combusting. Instead I mumbled a thanks, said I'd let her know and made my way out of the shop, past a line of sniggering office workers.
I checked the invite back at the office. It was for Fright Night - a terribly named Halloween Singles Night in the function room of a hotel on the outskirts of town. It promised to be the 'Most Flirty Night of the Year' with a troupe of Saucy Devils on hand to introduce guests and add to the party atmosphere. The last time I went to a fancy dress party was a hospital radio fundraiser, I went as the Green Man and Ray went as the Red Man. We caused quite a stir, especially as Ray was on a drinking binge and knocked a tray of drinks onto me causing my green body paint to run. I looked more like a zombie on his way to the swimming baths than a character from the pedestrian crossing. So as you can imagine reading Hester's invite my head said no, but my heart said yes especially when I spotted Hester's phone number jotted on the bottom of the invite in red glitter pen. All I need to decide on is my outfit.

Fur

Returned home exhausted after a day lugging Dad's shopping about town to discover a lounge full of those fur lined boots young women seem to favour these days. Too tired to complain I flopped down amongst them and duly fell asleep. I woke up two hours later to the sound of my daughter's boyfriend lifting and thrutching heavy footwear laden boxes out of the room. As I he wobbled out of the room he tripped over an expensive looking handbag and thrust it into the box. Something strange is afoot.

Tandem of Life

After much deliberation and many mugs of milky cocoa my daughter's boyfriend and I decided I should write my personals ad in a comical manner. So instead of saying 'Friendly hospital radio DJ seeks funny lady with nice figure and a bob or two' we decided to put 'Penniless shock jock seeks lady of means to join me on the tandem of life. Let me dedicate the next one to you.' We handed our evening's work to my daughter, she furrowed her brow and said it doesn't make any sense. Her boyfriend has already placed the ad in the paper. I hope it's a success.

Geese

I came to my rebranding exercise this evening with a mug of warm milk, open mind and list of qualities I would like in a woman. I would like someone who surprises me with a cup of fennel tea and a sardine toastie. Someone who volunteers to massage my feet in an evening after I've spent a long day walking back and forth to the photocopy room. A lady who likes to be active and takes care of herself but doesn't go to extreme lengths. My Ex used to ration my sugar intake and regularly hide the biscuits in a bid to keep me trim, I always had a chocolate bar hidden in the seam of my rucksack for emergencies. I would like someone who likes to laugh but not too loudly, my Ex had a honking laugh akin to a gaggle of over excited geese that have cornered you on a canal tow path. As with these feathered fiends you were never sure when she'd turn aggressive. So I came to the kitchen table with my list of requirements and my daughter's boyfriend told me to tear it up and be happy if I met a female. And then he set about wording my personals ad. I have to say it's getting rather exciting!

Rebranding

Got talking to my daughter's new boyfriend yesterday evening and despite my initial reservations he is quite a nice chap. I did have a sneaky suspicion that he maybe of man of ill-gotton gains, considering the quantity of electrical equipment that has appeared in our flat lately. Anyway he enlightened me, he said he has a very well paid job in marketing. We got talking about his life, his work and the topic turned to love. Or the lack of love in my life. He suggested I market myself better, create a new, improved brand and he told me in no uncertain terms that I must stop advertising myself in newsagent windows. Only cleaners, dog walkers and people looking to offload faux leather sofas advertise in those sorts of places. So tonight we're creating a brand. The all new, irresistable Dr Moonlove. Fingers crossed he'll find me a new love by Christmas when he secretly plans to whisk my daughter away to sunnier climes. Hope so!

Ill Placed Rucksack

I have been loose of bowel over the weekend, so much so that I dare not venture out. It started on Friday evening on a packed commuter train on my way home from work. As to be expected I was seated by a beautifully attired woman when I felt a rumbling in my guts. I clenched myself hoping the bubbling sensation would subside, at least 'til the next stop when I would be able to alight. But no it continued, unlike our crowded train which was inching forth at the pace of a wounded snail. I weighed up my options; squeeze past lady lovely and through the standing passengers to the loo, thereby losing my seat or sit and wait 'til the next station and make a dash for the platform toilets. I covertly checked for directions to the train toilet. The train ground to a halt. I waited. I wanted to be discreet but my intestines were having none of it, emitting a low, thunderous sound but thankfully no accompanying smell. The driver announced we were stuck in a tunnel and would not be moving for the next five minutes, at least. A collective sigh from the passengers as they slumped down on their bags and briefcases. I was starting to sweat, I couldn't hold on much longer. That was it I had to go. With directions to the nearest toilet cubicle insight I gathered my belongings and edged my way past Miss Fancy Pants. All was going well as I made it to the aisle, the toilet door was in sight and it was unlocked. Result! I carried on my quest, politely squashing my way past men, women and a dog until I reached the cubicle door and tripped over an ill placed rucksack and expelled the most noxious of fumes. A young man came to my aid but was repelled by the odour - a smell so strong it could be used as a natural pest repellent. I felt so embarrassed I hid in the toilet for twenty minutes until my intestinal fireworks had finished and we reached my station. As I dashed through the door the crowd parted and it was then I realised that bad guts can have hidden benefits and broke wind all the way home.

Obsolete

As the colder months draw in I decided to sign up to one of those online DVD rental sites. Yes folks it's true, my trusty old Betamax player has had it's day and has now been relegated to the electrical scrap heap in the sky. I took all my old Betamax films to the car boot sale in the hope of selling a few to local traders but I was laughed off the market, apparently Betamax was phased out some time in the late 80's. News to me. Anyway my daughter's boyfriend brought round a brand new DVD player and wide screen TV. He has very kindly installed it in our lounge and gave me some recommendations of films to watch. I spent most of the evening ordering them online, retiring to bed at a very late hour. I slept fitfully and dreamt of films being delivered. I say dream it was more like a nightmare, I was locked in the flat unable to escape whilst the postman delivered Rom-Com after Rom-Com - incidentally my Ex's favourite film genre. The nightmare ended when I was forced to watch Four Weddings and a Funeral for the 49th time - not too far from the truth I have been subjected to it at least 25 times with my Ex. I woke up in a cold sweat with a bad taste in my mouth. Hurridly I rushed to the lounge and switched on my PC to check for any signs of Hugh Grant on my order list and thankfully there were none. What a relief!

Top Tip

I went to stay with my cousin this weekend. Nora is a real inspiration, she is a busy mum of three and runs a successful Life Coaching business. She shared this Top Tip for those of you who are time poor.
'Don't waste time shredding your bank statements, simply fold them inside a soiled nappy, bag and bin them. Anyone wishing to root around inside a dirty nappy is welcome to my money.'
What a scent-sible idea I thought and asked her if I could share it with you. I guess if you don't have a dirty nappy to hand you could always use a dog's pooh bag.