Anthea Turner

Well, it’s been a hive of activity here at George Mansions today!

 

    

 

 Mike went off to do his Gardening Programme this morning, as usual for a Saturday.  I, despite suffering from a nasty cold, did something I haven’t done for two and a half years. Instead of spending the morning on the computer, I did ….. wait for it….. Housework. I mean proper housework. Moving things sort of housework and feather dustering.

 

I seem to have turned a blind eye to cleaning the house since I discovered the world of the Internet, as long as the Dyson has it’s daily five minute trip round the house and the furniture gets an occasional wipe down, I don’t care too much.

 

This lackadaisical attitude changed on Thursday night. Mike was out and I decided to watch a bit of telly. There was nothing on that I really wanted to see, so did a bit of channel hopping, through the Freeview channels.

 

I found myself watching Anthea Turner, as the Perfect Houswife. It’s a programme where Anthea tries to lick two slovenly housewives into Stepford Wives.

 

There were two reasons for watching this. One. Her ridiculous posturing and genuine horror at the mess these women lived in was very amusing. Two. I’m fascinated by the woman, as she married one of my ex boyfriends, Peter Powell.

 

That is a slight exaggeration, as we only once went out in a ‘romantic’ way but after that, I started going out with one of his close friends and Peter and I were good friends during that time. We had some great times in a caravan in Bournemouth and Peter’s parents’ holiday home in Aberdovey. I could tell you a very funny story about his nickname but I think I’d better not.........Anyway, I digress. 

 

What started as a bit of fun for me, soon became quite serious. The two hapless women, who had invited Anthea to publicly humiliate them, had  homes like mine!

 

I have places in my house, where if you dropped a sticky sweet, you certainly wouldn’t want to pop it in your mouth. I definitely have dust dollies under the dresser and most of my ceilings and pictures are draped, Hammer House of Horrors style, with spider’s webs.

 

I don’t like housework! Just because I was born female doesn’t mean that I’m good at it, or even have the slightest interest in it.

 

I started thinking of putting my name forward to be in the next series. Imagine the double look of horror when the stick thin, perfectly groomed Anthea, saw the horrors of my house and realised, this overweight woman had once been out with her ex. That perfect little nose would be wrinkling and crinkling with distaste. She’d probably need a Botox injection to sort it out.

 

I then realised if I did appear in the programme, my mother would never be able to walk down Hagley Village High Street again, so probably not a good idea. Although she has been known to go there with a carrier bag on her head, to prevent her hair getting wet but that’s not quite the same as having your daughter revealed as a slattern on the telly, is it?

 

The end result of watching Ms Turner is, although I am not now going to be a paragon of housewifely duties, I did feel sufficiently motivated to shift some dust and disturb a few spiders this morning. I’ll whisper this, as I don’t want everyone to know, I even cleaned round the edge of the hob………..with an old toothbrush. How enterprising is that?

 

Emily and Abigail are laying again, we’ve only had the occasional egg over the last few weeks, then on Thursday Emily laid a nice shiny brown one for us and yesterday Abigail gave us one of her special paint jobs, dark at one end and light at the other. I can always tell who has laid because Emily does nice smooth, shiny eggs and Abigail does rough ones, with a sandy sort of surface. (Ouch!) This morning there was one of each type, so Spring must be well and truly on the way.

 

Mike and I tidied up the front garden on Wednesday and planted a few extra plants. The bulbs are coming through now, I can’t remember how long it’s been since they were last this late, probably back in the 70’s.

          

I have three cards o the mantelpiece, waiting to be opened tomorrow. The first to arrive, as ever, was from my stepdaughter. She always sends cards out early, just in case. Then one came from Germany and yesterday one arrived with a London postmark, which will be from Simon, posted by his girlfriend, as he is still away at sea. I don’t get, or expect a card from my stepson, as our relationship is more of a   ‘going out and partying’   rather than a maternal one.

 

I keep sticking an Olbas Inhaler up my nose, in the vain hope that I might get to taste tonight’s dinner. Last night’s Moroccan Lamb could have been anything. I think tonight’s steak will be like chewing cardboard. Oh well, if I can’t taste it may help me lose weight.

 

As a result of last week's trip to Kempley, I have been able to make a big start on researching Mike's George family. I found they came from Taynton in Gloucestershire. I even found a photo of a farm that they had lived in. I'm really envious because all the farms my family had (and pubs) have been demolished, look at this for a little gem. Grrrr! she says through gritted teeth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As you can see I have been taking lessons and playing around with a few things. Thanks to

 

www.cutecolors.com