Wish me luck....

Hello everybody. How have you been?

It’s been trying to snow here, it's a devil of a job trying to heat up the house with all these rising costs. I bought one of those fleece body bags that you can slide into while sitting at home. Bella keeps trying to get in as well but there isn’t much room. But it’s a bit of a bind when you want to spend a penny or put kettle on.

I almost got trapped in it when zipper got caught on wool, I thought I was going to have to hop across to my neighbour the counsellor but I managed to sort it in the end!

Well, it was my turn to have a drama last week, actually it was more of a development.

Remember I told you all about my marriage to Ted? Though, it wasn’t much of a marriage, we just shared our house rather than our lives. Things went downhill between us after we lost our baby Connie. Life was never quite the same again.

Anyway, Ted turned up at t’ hospital last Friday. I could see him hiding behind potted plant by Tilly's florist shop. His trilby hat is always a giveaway. It was like something out of an Inspector Clouseau film. I’m surprised he weren’t pretending to read Gazette with two holes cut out of it!

He knew Sylvie had gone to lunch. I wanted to close up shop when I saw him but Sylvie would have killed me. Then, Dora Crosby came up to counter for her Sherbet Lemons, so I served her and then Ted arrived. We didn’t say anything at first, he just cleared his throat a couple of times (one of his annoying habits) and asked how I was.

I was very civil and said I was fine but busy, he asked if he could take me to lunch as he wanted to talk. I said I wasn’t taking a lunch break because I were leaving early to help charity shop box up clothes for Africa. I feel very proud that someone will be wearing my paisley two-piece in a third world country.

Anyway, Ted invited me to dinner and I felt a bit trapped if I’m honest. So, I agreed to go out with him this evening. It was all very unnerving and I could feel one of my heads coming on for rest of day.

When Sylvie came back from lunch, she said I should stick to my promise and go to dinner as she knew I was thinking of cancelling. She said that he has never cheated on me unlike her Eric and now she’ll never have the chance to tell him how much he hurt her.

So, I’m off out with Ted this evening to hear what he has to say for himself, though that’ll be a first. Sylvie said not to lose my temper but I said I have no intention of doing so; a whisper speaks louder than a shout.

So, dear friends, I shall love you and leave you. I’ll let you know how the evening went but I intend to be in my body bag by 9.30pm with a hot chocolate. I have to hurry as I’ve just got back from work. We’re going to the early sitting at Angus Steak house as I don’t like to eat a heavy meal too late in the evening.

Wish me luck; I’m not looking forward to this at all. I'm as giddy as a kipper, I shall have to take a valium.

God Bless. Joyce xx

Rising from the ashes...

Hello there, Sylvie here.

It’s been one drama after another. I usually lead such an uneventful life! Joyce told you all about the fire, then?

Hells bells! I thought I were a goner. Lester gave me a fireman’s lift, though he’s done his back in carrying folk out.

All I remember is grabbing my coat and bag before falling t’ floor coughing and spluttering. I think I had an out of the body experience because I saw that Percy lying on top of Molly Chadwick in function room and her wig was floating in punch bowl.

Clint rushed up t’ hospital, the poor mite were in tears, Mandy came in wearing her nighty and dressing gown, she looked a right mess. I noticed she was wearing my new slippers, cheeky mare.

Once I was settled on t’ ward, Joyce burst through doors like John Wayne and started fussing with covers and feeling my forehead. She got on my wick but I could see she were worried, so I let her do her Florence Nightingale bit.

Clint and Mandy went home and Joyce stayed on, I kept drifting off and every time I woke up, she was holding my hand and saying a prayer. I’m not a believer in any way, shape or form but it made her feel better, I suppose.

The nurses said she slept on the chair next to my bed, she really didn’t have to stay all night. I were fine apart from my smoky lungs, but that might be down to forty years of smoking Park Drive rather than the fire.

Ethel is in trouble with council for leaving chip pan on stove. She’s gone into hiding but I saw her hanging washing on balcony t’ other day, she pretended she didn’t see me and scuttled indoors with a tea towel over her head. She’ll have to face folk sooner or later and get it over with.

Lester was presented with a replacement guitar at the Gold Rush club after Clint finished Bingo. Ah, Lester were dead chuffed as it were better than the original one he had bought from Argos Alan’s extension sale.

Me and Joyce have our new computers now. I have one with a desk and chair, Joyce has a laptop but it’s very noisy. It sounds like the hairdryers at Krazy Kutz in precinct.

Clint treated me to a hairdo there as the smoke had ruined my colour. I’ve gone for sunflower yellow; Joyce thinks it’s a bit brassy but only because she’s dishwater grey.

Clint is quite good on t’ computer but he has trouble with managing keyboard. Mandy said he’s joined a virtual pub chat room and doesn’t get to bed until early hours as he’s always in a lock-in. She thinks he fancies the barmaid, Raucous Rita. I told her not to worry; he’ll have got himself barred by end of month.

I can order my shopping on t’ internet. Clint wasn’t too impressed when ASDA didn’t deliver his chilli con carne and cauliflower cheese ready-made meals, he were given a couple of tins of kidney beans, a packet of Dairy Lea and a cauliflower instead.

I think he prefers to go round shop with trolley, he gets easily tempted by all the treats but I said he can go with Mandy in future. I’m moving with the times and doing it from my living room.

I went to see Lil at the home yesterday. She wasn’t too impressed with Joyce’s visit and gave me her cake tin with the Bakewell Tart untouched. Lil can be funny with folk she doesn’t know very well. I think she thought I wasn’t coming back and she’d be stuck with Joyce wittering on about musicals each week.

I had to laugh when Lil asked if I were wearing a flame-retardant frock when centre burnt down. Her mind works in very mysterious ways at times. It’s difficult to make head or tail of what she says as she never puts her teeth in. ‘When I’m out they’re in and when I’m in they’re out’, she always says.

It turns out that Demi, her nurse, is related to that lad in polo neck who won jackpot on ‘Deal or No Deal’ recently. Apparently, he won’t answer his phone now. She said she wouldn’t mind but he owes her a tenner.

Money can change folk and before you know it they have a ceramic cheetah in their passage.

I had to collect my Avon money on trolley round this afternoon but most were just coming round from anaesthetic, so I didn’t hover for long. I’ll catch them in morning, they’ll be more with it by then. And Doris Begley still owes me for Lavender balls while two weeks back.

I’m not buying Joyce any more skin care gifts for Christmas, she never uses them. Though, she should. Her skin’s rougher than a badger’s arse. She needs a bit more help than Nivea can offer these days.

Coco Chanel once said that you get the face you deserve at fifty but Joyce has had a tough life when all’s said and done. So I shouldn’t go on.

Well, it was all go on Princess Diana ward today; they had to share birthing pools as delivery rooms were full. Some of the mums were overdue so they sent Frank out last night to Korma Sutra for a Vindaloo take-away and all hell broke loose this morning when their waters broke!

Frank’s keeping his head down as the midwives are on the war path. Why are they still called midwives when men do the job as well? They’d do well to ponder on that one in this age of sexist equality.

Joyce was telling me that her lady vicar from St. Andrews is living with Connie from pound shop and they’re going to have a baby together. Good luck to them, though I wouldn’t go round to their house for a Turkey roast!

Joyce can’t get her head round it. Considering her dad was a homosexual man and her Sidney buys Victorian dolls from Sunday supplements, you’d think she’d be more liberated. She’s not a prude or a phobic but she can be slow on the uptake at times but her heart’s in right place.

Well, did you watch Strictly Dancing at the weekend? I think that John Sargeant will end up in the final if the public have their way! It’s a shame Cherie went out as she flew the flag for us older ladies and I’d kill for legs like that. I’m thinking of getting my veins stripped in the spring.

I think the professional dancers are too fast when they perform their own routines, it’s not normal is that. I get quite giddy with all the spinning and dipping and the fellas have back-sides you could rest a brew on!

Bruce gets on my nerves, he’s a big show-off and his blonde side-kick looks embarrassed most of time. They should get that nice Dale Winton to take over; he’d sort out the mice from the men.

But I do like Len Goodman, he’s a man I could rumba with any day of week.

Anyway, Corrie is on in a minute and it looks like young me lado David is in trouble again. He never learns, does he? He needs a week with Blanche Hunt as that Gayle is too soft on him, and she needs a decent hair colour. That mousy shade isn’t very becoming on a mature woman, you only have to look at Joyce.

Hope you all have a good week and stay warm, its brass monkeys up here.

Cheerio for now. Love from Sylvie xx

Changing Times

Hello everyone.

Well, it doesn’t rain but it pours. The community centre burned down last week! Ethel Compton, who teaches cookery class, left chip pan on while she spent a penny. Her class had left with their muffins but she stayed on to cook her tea.

She’s caused no end of damage but everyone got out okay, though a few folk had to be kept in hospital overnight including Sylvie.

Molly Chadwick was running her speed-dating night and fainted with the smoke, Percy tried to give her the kiss of life but Molly reckons he were just trying it on. Mind you, her wig got left behind in kerfuffle, she were mortified.

Lester was a hero, he got everyone out before fire engines arrived, he was in quite a bad way but is recovering now. Though, he lost his guitar in the fire. We’re having a collection and Ivy’s son, Brian (who thinks he’s Elvis), is going to choose a replacement for him. Lester burnt his deadlocks, so he’s had to have them cut off.

Poor Sylvie, as if she hasn’t had enough to deal with lately. I rushed over t’ hospital after Clint called me last Monday. She had to be put on oxygen but she were more shocked than anything else. Clint took me back to their flat and I packed her personals as she didn’t want him rifling through her drawers and then I came back and sat with her until she nodded off.

Annabel opened up the next day and I came in while 11.00am and checked on Sylvie. She looked much better but her hair stank of smoke and chip fat but I didn’t like to say.

Annabel gave her the rest of the week off, so it was just the two of us which has been a nightmare. She stands and points while munching her way through carrot sticks and pumpkin seeds, she should be in a pen.

The drama group is putting on ‘Cabaret’ and Annabel wants the part of Sally Bowles, but she’s got two left feet and can’t hold a note. She thought I was jealous but I said I have no intention of auditioning for the role as I know my limitations, unlike others.

That madam said ‘You have such low self-esteem. You can be quite the idiot at times’. I didn’t show that she’d upset me, even though she had.

Sylvie made me laugh today when she said how Annabel can’t get off a chair without cracking her knees, let alone dance on one!

When I popped back to Sylvie’s flat to get her overnight things, I noticed that she has a picture of Eric in a heart-shaped frame on her bedside table. She still loves him very much. It’s not that easy to fall out of love with someone, even when they break your heart.

She told me that Eric once said to her ‘Don’t love me too much’. Whatever kind of thing is that to say? Everyone wants to know they’re loved.

But she’s a survivor, like Elizabeth Taylor, only with less jewellery. Sylvie said she can’t bear to look at her bracelet anymore as Eric bought a charm for every wedding anniversary. I do believe he always loved her but he was a very weak and foolish man. I think he would have eventually come to his senses and stayed with Sylvie.

That Doreen Bradley sounds like she trapped Eric with a kiddie and squeezed every penny out of him while Sylvie just got on with it and never complained. She was devoted to her family and took in Eric’s aunt Lil when she first became poorly, even though she had Clint to raise.

She once told me how she stayed in for three years waiting for Prozac to kick in. Sylvie keeps a beautiful home, not a thing out of place. Eric didn’t know when he was well off.

I went with Clint to see Lil last weekend while Sylvie rested. I took her a Bakewell tart and Lil accused me of trying to stab her with a teaspoon, I didn’t know where to put my face. I’ve only met her a few times but she doesn’t seem to like me very much.

Though, she pressed a chocolate coin into my hand as I left and said to buy some sweets for myself. I think her mind is starting to let go a bit now.

Lil's a good few summers past sixty and not in the best of health. She kept calling Clint ‘Eric’ and scalded him about Doreen which didn't go down too well, but he managed to hold it together. I thought he drove home a bit too quickly for my liking but I said nowt.

Well, this cold snap is kicking in but I can't afford to have heating on all the time, so me and Bella go to bed at 8.00pm and watch TV. Poor Queenie Grayson from flats died of hyperthermia last week. Winter can be cruel on the old folk.

Mind you, she'd been shop-lifting at Lidl and had two frozen legs of lamb under her anorak. By the time the number 45 came along she were frozen rigid. That bus service is getting worse.

I bumped into my neighbour the counsellor last week, she was going to work in blue jeans and pumps. She explained it was casual Friday!

Whatever next? I don't care how casual Friday becomes, you won't catch me going to work in my housecoat and espadrilles. I blame that Germaine Greer. Woman's libber? It wouldn't hurt for her to put a comb through her hair every so often.

Anyway, Sidney's still hovering over his laptop, I'm at his bungalow typing this blog but he wants to get back to his project. He's compiling a list of music hall performers from the North of England. He's very thorough when he gets stuck into something.

But the sooner Argos Alan can get the computers, the better, as Sidney's not very good at sharing things. Lester said he'll continue to teach us at our homes. He's a good lad. He's been wearing a tee-shirt with 'Barack To The Future' written across the front!

I think Mr Obama will make a grand president because he has a very stylish wife. She's like Jackie Kennedy whose handbag always matched her shoes. That's very important when you're standing next to your husband in front of the nation.

It was forks to the left and politics to the right in our house. Ted thought Margaret Thatcher was a very handsome woman in her day; he’d look at me and snap ‘I bet she doesn’t stuff used tissues up her cardigan sleeve’. He could be very cutting at times.

Hopefully, we’ll be up and running on our own computers soon, so Sylvie will be with you next Monday with her week’s news.

Keep wrapped up.

God bless, Joyce xx

Moving on...

Hello, it’s Sylvie here.

Time seems to be flying past us. I’ve normally got my Christmas presents wrapped by now but I haven’t even made a start on the shopping. Clint’s usually sneaking around my bedroom looking in cupboards or under my bed at this time of year!

As you know, my head has been all over shop but me and Joyce are going to Trafford Centre on Saturday, so we should get it all done then. Though, if Joyce had her way, we’d be shopping at Help The Aged in precinct.

I saw that picture she put up of Bob Marley on her blog. She’s a daft apeth, even I know that’s not a roll up. I once found pot in Clint’s room a few year ago, he had those joint cigarettes rolled up in his sock drawer, I lit one and lay on his bed to see what it did.

I put on his Hi-Fi headphones and nodded off until ‘Crazy Horses’ blasted my blooming eardrums and then I burnt a hole in his Baywatch duvet. I put everything back and said nowt but now I know what he’s up to whenever I smell Fabreze on the landing and hear The Osmonds behind closed doors.

When I told Joyce what I’d done, she gave me one of her lectures and said I’ll be in a coffee bar banging bongos before long. I sometimes wonder if I slip into a time warp when I talk to her.

Well, there was a turn up for the book when Ted arrived at the hospital shop. Joyce got stuck under sink while she were hiding from him. She should talk to him but she’s as stubborn as a mule that one. ‘I want closure’, she said. I think she’s been watching too much Jeremy Kyle.

She got quite upset afterwards and I did feel sorry for her. She were all sixes and sevens and her nose was dripping like a tap, so I let her open a packet of Kleenex instead of the cheap ones. She livened up a bit after she had a cup-a-soup and a Viennese Whirl.

Joyce used to envy the way I loved Eric, she said that she never had butterflies with Ted, it were two months into their marriage before he untied her pussy bow.

Me and Eric were never shy in that department, which is what makes everything all the more upsetting. He didn’t want for anything with me, but he still wanted more with someone else.

I know he loved me. He just wasn’t in love with me anymore. Joyce reckons to be ‘in love’ and ‘loving someone’ are two different things. When you love somebody you want to be a part of their life, but when you're in love, you want the other person to be a part of your life.

She does talk a load of mumbo jumbo at times.

All I know, when I’m awake in the small hours, is that I want to feel something other than this.

Clint won’t discuss his dad, it’s like he never existed. Argos Alan said Clint broke his Casio keyboard from banging it so hard in his extension. That’s not like my son at all, He’s so gentle, though he does have big fat hands. Ivy’s are about same size at the moment.

It’s been a busy day at work, always is after weekend. Mainly DIY injuries or a weekend on the ale takes its toll. Young Kelly McIntyre came in for her ante-natal. Her nan normally comes with but she’d had a flare-up and had to sit on her inflatable ring at home.

Kelly showed me and Joyce her scan photo. I couldn’t make head nor tail of it. They all like potato heads to me. I never know what it is you’re supposed to say, ‘Oh, she has her mother’s eye sockets’.

She said it’s a girl and she plans to call her Destiny. Mind, she’s only fifteen, so I expect she’ll change it when she gets older. I remember when Kelly was a toddler, she’d always break the legs off her dolls. I hope she fares better with the bairn.

Kelly said she’s feeling run down now she’s six moths gone and that she’ll have to stop clubbing soon. Whenever I felt run-down during my pregnancy, I’d put my feet up, have a fag and a Babycham. It worked a treat.

Joyce gets on her moral high horse, as she always does. I don’t know what gets her goat more, Kelly’s tattoos or her being up the duff. She said kids are in too much of a hurry to grow up these days and she blames MFI. It took me a while to realise she meant MTV, dozy mare.

I said to her that nowt’s changed from when I were a young lass, kids today think they invented sex. Though, we had to learn the hard way. There were no do-gooders in dungarees, just back-street abortionists in curlers and a pinny. You had a couple of days in bed, went back to work and kept it buttoned.

I must tell you about Molly Chadwick, you’ll laugh at this,

Ey up, the fire alarm’s gone off. Ethel from cookery class has run in waving her arms about like a demented chimpanzee and screaming for us to scarper. What’s to do?

By heck, there’s thick smoke everywhere! Oh hell.