Happy Monday? It is now


Two weeks ago we completed a move to new business premises, and what started out as an eagerly anticipated adventure, has turned into a stressful and very time-consuming experience.  I should have expected it. It is like moving home x 25!

Today is the first day that I can walk freely round my new office, all my boxes of files have now been archived and I can actually see the colour of the floor tiles. The staff love their new “home” and have settled in very quickly, while it seems to be taking me a lot longer to adjust. We were 19 years in our previous building, it’s the place where our business first began and although it was old and the walls were a bit uneven, I was quite sad when I closed my door for the last time.

I not usually like this and have been quite annoyed with myself for having a gloomy mood; then today I found this:

and suddenly it is a Happy Monday.

Enjoy your Monday wherever you are 🙂

My grandmother would be laughing too


One day last week, I was buying quite a lot of bedding in a well know department store; as I walked toward the cash desk I was accosted by a slim young girl, wearing a large smile and brandishing a clipboard. She produced a card advertising a 10% reduction on purchases in return for signing up for a store card. The offer was only valid for a short time and she felt sure I would want to take advantage of it.

I usually smile sweetly and politely refuse such offers, I have had enough plastic in my purse and wallet over the years to make something really useful; but for some unfathomable reason I found myself sitting down with her to discuss the agreement for the card.

She took me through the form, asking for my name and address, pretty standard stuff, then asked for my bank details to check if I was credit worthy, and for a utility bill to check I lived where I said I did.  A utility bill is not something I expect most people would carry with them when they go shopping I told her, and in any case, I never have any utility bills in my name.  This caused her some concern as the form had to be fully completed or it wouldn’t be processed and I would not get my store card.

I actually felt relieved and said we would forget the card but thanked her for the thought.  I got up and went toward the cash desk.  The young woman followed me saying that she was sure she could get “them” to forget about the utility bill and as long as she completed the rest of the form, we would be good to go.

She asked me a couple more routine questions and then, against a backdrop of people patiently waiting to pay for their purchases, she asked me my age.  I stared at her, deciding whether to be rude or just walk away.  I mean, what sort of question is that to be asked when you’re out buying some new sheets and a couple of duvet covers.

I had a sudden flashback to a day out with my grandmother. I think I was seven years old or so and we had gone to the office my grandfather’s employer.  He worked on boats, and was often away delivering one boat to new moorings or bringing another one back to the boatyard. At these times it was arranged that my grandmother would collect his wages.

The man at the desk was not the one who was usually there, he was someone my grandmother didn’t know and he asked her lots of questions. She was uncomfortable with this and I remember her voice rising as she tried to deal with him.  Eventually, after exhausting his long list, the man asked her how old she was – ‘just for the record.’  I remember the intake of breath as she tightened her grip on my hand; she squared her shoulders and said to the little man behind the desk “Not that it has anything to do with you, but I am as old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth” and taking the wage packet off the desk, she dragged me out of the office.

I looked at the glossy young woman with her nice smile and shiny clipboard and said “Not that it has anything to do with you, but I’m as old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth”

I could hear a few people laughing behind me and knew my grandmother would be laughing too.

Some words for the driver of the red car……


Judging by the registration plate your car is very new

It is your pride and joy I guess, and means a lot to you

It probably is the highest spec and has gadgets galore

Yet you drive it like an idiot, I’ve seen your type before

You swerved along the carriageway, passing all in sight             

Oblivious of other drivers, ignoring traffic lights

You overtook a lorry, the driver not at all impressed

When you pulled in right in front of him causing some distress

My car has daytime running lights they are on all the time

That makes me highly visible, there’s nowhere for me to hide

Yet you seemed not to notice that I was on the road at all

When you swerved right in front of me and stopped to take a call

In my mirror I could see you on your phone having a chat

I thought of stopping off to have a word, but decided against that

When I calmed down it became quite clear just what was wrong with you

And  lots of others on the road suffer from this too

Although your cars are built for speed, making  you feel liberated

The one thing they forget to fit are the ****** indicators

Yes, I’m a woman


Yes, I’m a woman.

I push doors that clearly say PULL.

I laugh harder when I try to explain why I’m laughing

I walk into a room and forget why I was there.

I count on my fingers in math.

I hide the pain from my loved ones

I say it is a long story, when it really isn’t, just to get out of having to tell it.

I cry a lot more than you think I do.

I care about people who don’t care about me.

I cry at sad movies, but will watch them again and again

I listen to you, even when you don’t listen to me.

And a hug will always help

Don’t know who wrote this, but I like it
I also like this sunflower; it is one of three that were in the bunch of flowers I bought in the market on Saturday
I love the yellow colour, so uplifting and happy, makes me smile
I like odd numbers too