Body Parts and Holes in the Road!

It was back to school this week and after three days I'm still quite happy, so that's good. There are some really nice children in my class, I know this time last year I was ready to strangle a couple of them, so I'm fairly confident we have a better behaved bunch. Hopefully no condom modelling in the toilets!

 

At home it's been very annoying. The National Grid are replacing our gas mains. Now call me stupid but I thought the National Grid did the pylons that carried our Electricity........This could explain why they are making such a pig's ear of it.

 

I've had a large hole in the pavement outside my house for more than a week. This means some of the flowers in my garden have been flattened. I'm not too happy about that.

 

The men come for an hour or two and then they go away again. They say they are working on another job. Why? Wouldn't it be better to complete one job at a time, the work wasn't that urgent.

 

Then they dug a big hole at the top of my drive, about four feet deep, they have put two yellow plates over most of it but some of it is not covered. They assured me it was safe to drive over. I can assure you it isn't. Mike tried yesterday and the resulting cracking noise brought two of the  neighbours running out of their houses. His car is staying on the road now, I'm just thankful he's not been blown to smithereens because if the car had gone in there, onto the exposed gas pipe, I don't think the scenario would have been too good.

 

This afternoon I spent an hour in Marks and Spencers trying to find ‘the right bra’. This always drives me crazy, as finding what I like and have it fit is never easy. I’ve reached an age when I know what I like; it has to conform to certain criteria.

 

First of all, I want the sheepdog effect….. you know, rounds them up and points them  in the right direction, so it has to be underwired. When I was younger and was a pert 34B I often didn’t bother wearing a bra and I most certainly looked better than Charlie Dymock, who put me off gardening shows forever.

 

After years of weight gain, followed by some weight loss, I seem to be stuck at a 36DD. My once pert boobs are now in need of support. But… there is a very important feature I now require in a bra. First of all I don’t want seams, as they spoil the look under tee shirts etc but what it really, really must have is light padding. I am a firm believer now that when you have reached the age of a matronly bosom, what you don’t want, on cold mornings, is for your chapel hat pegs to be standing to attention and visible to all.

 

I watched a TV programme a couple of weeks ago, it was about a local couple who wanted to move house but couldn’t find what they wanted. An irritating pair of presenters went round local estate agents to try and find the house of their dreams and then showed the couple what they had come up with. The woman, who was older than me did the whole programme looking like she had a couple of marbles in her bra, WHY didn’t someone tell her to change her top?

 

Anyway, I couldn’t find what I wanted in my size, so tried squeezing myself into some 36D’s. I looked like a badly poured pint of beer, instead of fitting in the glass with the head just coming nicely to the top, I was flowing everywhere, you wouldn’t think an extra D would make such a difference. Hardly any of their range was in a DD cup and those I had seen were unlined.

 

When I handed the bras back to one of the assistants I told her of my dilemma, her colleague said, what about that new range that came in this morning they do DD right up to GG. (I think we’re talking Jordan implants here) So off she went and returned with the bra I was looking for and I am sitting here now typing, with my boobs sitting nicely just below my chin and nota chapel hat peg in sight.

 

I remember my mother once asking me if the bra she was wearing was alright with the top she had on, You can’t see my middles? She queried. Life was like that in our house; bodily parts were not to be mentioned, not by their anatomical name, or any sort of pet name. They were to be skirted around with vague terms, as in middle, meaning nipple and my sister and I had front bottoms and back bottoms. Thank goodness she never had a boy, I’ve no idea what she would have called that, although I have a horrible recollection that she referred to my cousin’s as a tail! You see even now I have trouble saying the P word. 

 

 Life was a nightmare when I grew up and had to start going to the doctor’s on my own, I had no vocabulary to discuss intimate matters. Oh well, I got by but I think Mum would have a fit if she knew I’d mentioned nipples on the Internet.

 

This week Mike and I went to the farm I mentioned a few weeks ago, where I found his family were farming in the 1841 Census. The present owner is a delightful man who spent two hours showing us round. He’d dug out some paperwork which gave the date Mike’s 3 x great grandfather, Richard George had taken on the tenancy, which was in 1820, for an annual rent of £140. That was a heck of a lot of money in those days. 

 

They were still there until the 1851 Census but by 1861 Richard was retired and was living with his son William who was just an Agricultural Labourer. I don’t know why William didn’t take over the tenancy; it may be they were finding it difficult to make enough to pay the rent.

 

We had a lovely time there and the view from one of the fields must be just as it was when Richard George walked across those fields. Mike felt quite emotional and I felt a little envious, as all my family farms, even my bizarrely named Ramrod Hall, were demolished long ago.

 

These are two of the wonderful characters we met

 

 

This lovely chap is about 17 years old and is bigger than he looks. That fence top was my eye level and I'm 5 ft 7 tall. He had the biggest head I ever saw on a horse and I think he's a Belgian.

 This beauty is a Shire and they both have to have specially made shoes as they are soooo huge.

 

Below are some of the Gloucester cattle, now a very rare breed. They have distinctive white rumps and they are what the original Double Gloucester was made from (No, I'm not going back onto bra sizes!)

   

 

 

Don't be silly, the one in the foreground is the farm dog!!

 

This is the view everyone loves and we were no exception.

 

 

And finally, Mike reflecting on what might have been, if the farm had stayed in the family.

 

 

I've decided to defer my weigh in until next weekend as I know I've been very naughty this week, while I was still on holiday but I will definitely tell the truth, no matter how painful next weekend.