<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351</id><updated>2011-07-08T01:11:46.375-07:00</updated><category term='Chocolate'/><category term='Strawberries'/><category term='Showers'/><category term='Epilepsy'/><category term='Nana'/><category term='Baby'/><category term='Elephants'/><category term='Banjo'/><category term='Green Living'/><category term='Rum'/><category term='Cider'/><category term='Dogs'/><category term='Stress'/><category term='Bingo'/><category term='Dog'/><category term='Kitten'/><category term='Racism'/><category term='Easter'/><category term='sister'/><category term='Motorbikes'/><category term='Docker'/><category term='Crow'/><category term='Tumble Drier'/><category term='Lady'/><title type='text'>Life according to Angie</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-5228056404367909227</id><published>2009-08-26T07:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T07:59:28.622-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sister'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motorbikes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dogs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kitten'/><title type='text'>Cats, Birthdays and Oil Drums</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It has been so long since my last blog I am not sure where to begin. There are new family members to say hello to and sadly to say goodbye to as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let’s start by getting the tears out of the way and say goodbye to our oldest cat, Rocket. Her start to life was not unusual but as you will read, she came from a chap in my circle called Dick who is rather better known now as the chap who built the custom bike for Ewan Macgregor on BBC2 programme Long Way Round. My partner (W) was heartbroken when his cat Star was killed outside our house, more so because the driver did not stop and he vowed no more cats as this was the third cat killed in a short period of time. Dick said he had kittens and W (after being badgered quite hard) said he would only have one if it was pure black. Six weeks later a large motorbike roared up at home being ridden by Dick’s friend M. As a biker, M was adorned in his best Bell staffs and then, from in his pocket, he pulled a six week old, pure black kitten. She became Rocket, and W decided to give her a fighting chance by putting her in the dog basket with our Dobermans. As Rocket grew she decided she was, in fact, a very small but agile Doberman. This included rounding up the dogs, eating their dinner whilst they watched and refusing to use a cat flap but will “bark” at the door (well cat whine really). Out of all our animals Rocket had always been “Top Dog”, and as such every animal irrelevant of species, answered to her. She had odd habits such as falling into oil drums and bringing home presents such as a rabbit on Christmas day to share with her pals. She also preferred to sleep in boxes and on a fleece, oh and never, ever, wake her up! Rocket would use a human arm like an Etch – A – Sketch if woken wrongly. Rocket put up with children of all ages and was really friendly most of the time and only became grumpy as she became a pensioner of the cat world. She taught cat skills to all the other kittens we brought home and had a very special relationship with W, quite often they would spend evenings curled up together which was lovely to see. Rocket was a unique kitty who was loved by all that knew her and even now as I type this I have tears in my eyes for the friend I miss most dearly. RIP Rocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I had a birthday over the summer I thought a day out at the pub was in order as, to be honest, the house was a mess and neither of us could be arsed to do anything about it at the time. My sister S and family popped over to the house before the pub so, after tripping over all the stuff in the yard I had not cleaned, up her youngest 2 girls, J and K, gave me a box with the smallest, cutest kitten you have ever seen. Her ears were and still are way too big for her head and we are hoping she will grow into them one day and she is white and silver tabby so in honour of Rocket we called her Comet. Welcome to the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More later and keep smiling people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-5228056404367909227?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/5228056404367909227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=5228056404367909227' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5228056404367909227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5228056404367909227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2009/08/cats-birthdays-and-oil-drums.html' title='Cats, Birthdays and Oil Drums'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-951434543907704952</id><published>2009-04-15T06:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T06:40:17.449-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Strawberries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nana'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Easter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Epilepsy'/><title type='text'>Easter and the Mad Nana</title><content type='html'>Hello People,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have not blogged in ages do thought I had better put fingers to keyboard, hands up all those who remember a pen before it became a “Communication Interface”! It has been an interesting few weeks coping with good news, bad news and 1 mad grandma. In no particular order, here is what has been going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandson number 2 otherwise known as Stuntman has finally been diagnosed with a form of Epilepsy. It took several fits, Stuntman being hospitalised three times, an episode of him not breathing and then add the complete stupidity of Basildon Hospital. If ever your kids get sick take them anywhere other than there! I would like to add that in my humble opinion some areas of the hospital cannot be faulted i.e. Breast Care Centre and Orthopaedics. Anyway the Stuntman is recovering and is back to his cheeky little self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stuntman and Grandson Number 1 otherwise known as Bomber stayed over last Monday as Mum was off to Thorpe Park for the day and we decided to tire them both out with several trips to the park over the course of the day. We played football, chased Butterflies, let them ride their bikes and even managed to fit in feeding the ducks before bed, a jolly good time was had by all and after they had been fed and showered, which they both hated and screamed the house down during, we put them to bed. Both are normally very good and Bomber often puts himself to bed with Stuntman following later however Monday was to be the exception to the rule. We finally had them both down by 10pm and thought that would be it apart from the odd bottle or night nappy change but how wrong we were. I have often been amused that no matter what or how much a child eats, it always manages to double or treble in size by the time it hits the nappy so I wonder what would happen if I fed them £50 notes. All was well until 2am when Stuntman woke up, thankfully he wakes with a smile and we do the bottle and nappy thing and put him back down and like I said, normally that would be it…But no, he had decided that despite the hour, he was getting up and just for good measure he woke his brother up for company. My other half was trying his best but they are a handful and I got up to join him even though I had work in the morning, we tried everything from playing cars to Pingu DVD’s but to no avail. I don’t think the dog will ever recover from Stuntman dressing her up as a Cowboy and being chase around the living room. By 6am we were both shattered but the boys had more energy than a Duracell battery! By the time I got to work I was struggling to stay awake but thankfully it was an easy day and my step daughter was so pleased that the boys went for a nap after she had collected them as it means they will sleep better. I remember a time I could party all night then into work with no ill effects, now I can barely stay up past 12, when did I get so bloody old?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easter was a quiet affair until the big day dinner at my sisters. Dinner was fabulous and it was wonderful to have all the family around one table rather than dinner on lap in front of TV which so many seem to prefer. The kids were silent as they munched and the teenagers actually turned off their Ipod although I did have to remind them how it was incredibly bad manners to have it at the dinner table. Yes they sulked and argued the toss as teenagers do, but it worked and they even tried the art of conversation but as they are teenagers it was rather like trying to read a text message, you know roughly what is said but the exact words are lost on you. I love these occasions and often look forward to them however add 1 Nutty Nana to the equation and we have a whole new game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner Nana came and sat by me and we were chatting although to be honest I could not hear very well as I have misplaced a hearing aid and she was sitting on that side of me, anyway, she was telling me something regarding her cat who had been unwell and required a trip to the Vet and she said something about being given pills for her. I asked Nana to continue which she did by pulling what I thought were her cat’s tablets out of her coat pocket. The bag she drew out looked, well put it this way, my other half looked up as it to say “Flaming Hell her Nana’s a drug dealer”. Having shot him down in flames with one look, I put my lovely fresh Strawberries that I was eating, down and inspected the bag. It was only at this point I realised that not only had I misunderstood the entire story regarding the cat but I was now the proud possessor of a bag containing the cats teeth complete with bits of gum still attached. Whilst I am not normally squeamish even I was thrown by this and the rest of the Strawberries went untouched. Apparently Nana had said she had to get new pills to stop the cat getting an infection after having its teeth removed. Even if she does keep her cats teeth in a bag in her coat pocket you have to love her eccentricities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A load more has happened so I will blog soon. In the meantime take care and keep smiling people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angie xx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-951434543907704952?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/951434543907704952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=951434543907704952' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/951434543907704952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/951434543907704952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2009/04/easter-and-mad-nana.html' title='Easter and the Mad Nana'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-2093622340630139243</id><published>2009-02-12T03:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T03:22:28.263-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Subtitles and Stupid Doctors</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Hello People,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Today’s blog is on a subject close to my heart, subtitles on DVD’s.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was born with normal hearing but in my early thirties I developed a hearing disease which means I am slowly, but surely, losing my hearing completely. It has taken me sometime to adjust to my world becoming increasingly quiet but I am finding it has its advantages i.e. screaming kids, take my hearing aids out and no more problem! The disadvantages are many but my main one is that I can no longer eavesdrop which for me and some of my fellow woman kind, is a disaster, but I now realise it is just something to take in my stride. On the upside, I can read lips from across a room so at least I have a fighting chance of knowing what the gossip is! My grandsons although young, understand when nanny takes her ears out it is because they are making too much noise however they are both picking up sign language brilliantly even though I might be ever so slightly biased. Both realise that they have to stand in front of me when speaking or get my attention so I look at them, not bad considering they are only 1 and 2 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We have a large selection of DVD’s aimed at kids such as Bagpuss, The Clangers, Ivor the Engine and the Trumpton / Camberwick Green box set, ok we said we bought them for the kids but well….they are still as good as they ever was and all of them have subtitles. In today’s technological era you would have expected all DVD’s would come with subtitles but no. Increasingly I am finding because my taste is outside the realm of Hollywood blockbusters and other main stream viewing programs, that some new DVD’s do not have subtitles. Why? We can send humans to the Moon destroy our planet with bombs and even clone cells so what is so difficult about added text detail for those who need it. It is not just the Deaf who use subtitles; my Step Daughter uses them on kids programs to encourage my grandsons to read. My partner uses them when watching TV in bed and I am asleep and, of course, I use them just to follow the plot. I have tried direct emailing everyone remotely famous on www.Twitter.com (a brilliant site) asking them to ensure that their DVD’s come with subtitles but no one has even replied to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Most people assume because you wear hearing aids you have learning difficulties and I get treated differently to other people when shopping anywhere new, my regular shops treat me the same and people in work often forget which is fine until they speak and I can’t see there lips move! What really made me laugh was when I visited the Doctor and I had to see a locum. You would expect a Doctor to understand the communication issues I face but no, he decided to speak into his desk and then (because I asked him to look at me when speaking) he started over pronouncing all his words. Yep because that is not patronising at all, I AM DEAF NOT STUPID! I have a Degree, ten GCSE’s, two A Levels and an NVQ’s, just speak normally you complete tit!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So here I am on a one woman crusade to get all DVD’s to have subtitles, if you have an idea that could help I would love to hear about it, start twittering about it, facebook it and tell your friends. Ok rant over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;More later people and take care of yourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Angie xx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-2093622340630139243?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/2093622340630139243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=2093622340630139243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/2093622340630139243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/2093622340630139243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2009/02/subtitles-and-stupid-doctors.html' title='Subtitles and Stupid Doctors'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-167560081796641636</id><published>2009-01-28T06:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T06:34:17.977-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motorbikes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chocolate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Green Living'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cider'/><title type='text'>Green Living &amp; Death by Chocolate and Cider</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok I am sat in work bored to tears, can’t surf the web as we had an email reminding us we are being monitored, can’t do any work as I have done it all, can’t chat as my colleague is on leave this afternoon, no one else likes me enough to make conversation (their loss) and to top it all no bingo tonight. How on earth am I supposed to manage without my weekly Scary Mary dose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news is the major project W has been working on has finally left the house. The bad news is W has just ate my leftovers from the Indian takeaway which I was really looking forward to tonight. It is bad enough I have to hide chocolate like an alcoholic hides their booze but W calls it “Mental Torture” knowing sweeties are in the house but he cannot find them. Well honey, men have died for a lot less and quite frankly devour them during the wrong week in the month and I guarantee I will walk out of court cleared of your demise… All of this could have been avoided if he had remembered to take the fish out of the freezer when asked yesterday but he forgot and by the time I got home from work to make the Fish Pie I had been planning all day, the sodding lot was still solid. Tonight I have the wonderful task of gutting and filleting a dozen herring and a conger eel. Yeah my life is just one long exciting road. I don’t mind but it is not like I can have a drink while I am completing the gutting as the knife is way too sharp to risk it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won 4 tickets for a Motorbike Show this weekend and then found out no one wants them as everyone is busy and I ask myself “Do I smell” then remember most of my biking buddies are single parents and babysitting at short notice is not an easy thing to arrange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W and I are what my sister refers to as “Hippy’s” personally I think it more of a green lifestyle for instance we so not have mains water and collect and recycle rainwater instead. We have not had a bin collection in over 10 years because we:&lt;br /&gt;A. Don’t have a bin collection&lt;br /&gt;B. Recycle everything&lt;br /&gt;We have a log burning stove rather than any other heating in which we burn all the fallen logs we find lying around and we make our own Cider from apples we collect from trees that line our local roads although the next time W says to me first thing on a Sunday morning “Come on babe, get dressed we are going out” I will know better than to expect a visit to a boot sale or a fry up at the greasy spoon as last time he took me to the A127 and had me picking apples from the trees on the central reservation! Although I have to admit the Cider was superb and we will be doing the same next year. I buy all my vegetables and fruit from the local farm shop and my meat from a local butcher and worked out I save over £100 per month compared to shopping at my local Tesco and I get much better quality and all my food is produced locally, no air miles on our dinner. I try to grow as much of my own vegetables as possible too and I cannot tell you how fantastic the difference is in the taste. The only problem is I don’t have a garden so everything is in pots and containers but saying that, I have managed to grow Parsnips in a half cut barrel, spuds in a car tyre stack and strawberries in our hanging baskets! I urge you, even if it is Basil in a small pot on the window sill, grow your own as it is a choice you will never regret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take Care People xxxx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-167560081796641636?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/167560081796641636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=167560081796641636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/167560081796641636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/167560081796641636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2009/01/green-living-death-by-chocolate-and.html' title='Green Living &amp; Death by Chocolate and Cider'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-8669282054610041464</id><published>2009-01-17T20:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T21:00:15.452-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dogs opinion followed by the Cat</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT PETS WRITE IN THEIR DIARIES!!!Excerpts from a Dog's Diary......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt; 3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;5:00 pm - Milk Bones! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt; 8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cat Diary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Day 983 of my captivity...My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.  They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape.  In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet.  I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of.  However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am.  Bastards.There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight.  I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event.  However, I could hear the noises and smell the food.  I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.'  I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking.  I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.  The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return.  He is obviously retarded.The bird has got to be an informant.  I observe him communicating with the guards regularly.  I am certain that he reports my every move.  My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe.  For now................ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-8669282054610041464?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/8669282054610041464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=8669282054610041464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/8669282054610041464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/8669282054610041464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2009/01/dogs-opinion-followed-by-cat.html' title='The Dogs opinion followed by the Cat'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-762020469299345898</id><published>2009-01-16T04:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T05:01:49.989-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tumble Drier'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bingo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stress'/><title type='text'>Cousins, Tumble Driers and Stress</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sit on a Friday contemplating the week that has passed I realise why I have had a headache all week. Stress is not normally something I have to deal with very often, thankfully but today it all seems to have caught up with me. The week started with me running Welly to work which is fine but means a really early start and as I am not a morning person, left me feeling a little out of sorts. I am the kind of person who you avoid until about 10am otherwise I am very likely to shout, scream and be generally unpleasant just because I am miserable first thing! As I drive back to collect the love of my life from work I get stuck in traffic and spend over 2 hours trying to get somewhere that should take about a quarter of the time, not a good start to the week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday I get a phone call from a cousin I have not seen in a number of weeks who is working nights in central London and as they live in Devon want to stay at my house during the day sot hey can sleep. Of course I would love to help them but as I have had no water since Boxing Day and 4 Rotties that would think him nothing more than a Scooby Snack I have to ask No1 Step Daughter if she can help. Bless her heart as she agrees. I also organised a back up plan in case any thing went wrong but all is running well to date apart from the ear hole grief I am getting from her regarding her Tumble Drier that has given up the ghost. I have pointed out that as it is several years old, was purchased second hand and has moved house 3 times it has had a good innings and really she would be better off getting a new one. As any parent will tell you, kids can drop hints like bricks off a bridge and they are a lot less subtle. As we paid the deposit for 2 houses and bought her a washing machine, we would not be helping her with this little problem especially as she has my washing line in her back garden! Still she persists...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday we go to Scary Mary and her husband Frightening Frank evening otherwise known as Bingo, tonight we are accompanied by her fellas Mum and Sister, a good night but no winnings. The break halfway was again much fun as I still have to laugh at Scary Mary &amp;amp; Frightening Frank running for the smokers room. Cousin is now settled in and having dinner at mine tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday we find out that we can have our life back on Tuesday when the major project welly has been working on, is finally leaving so we book the day off from work and propose to get very drunk in celebration of the event that has been over 10 years in the offing. Dinner went well although has to throw Cousin out of door to work as he was having a good time and did not want to leave, even saw an old friend who joined us for dinner. Yep a very good night although still getting hints for a tumble drier!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here we are, back to where we started. Tonight I am looking forward to getting home and chilling. Missed out on seeing all my friends this week apart from 1 so definitely going to see my sister S and family as I miss them very much. That should sort out any stress, she is ace at getting you chilled! More soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great weekend people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angie xxx&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-762020469299345898?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/762020469299345898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=762020469299345898' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/762020469299345898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/762020469299345898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2009/01/cousins-tumble-driers-and-stress.html' title='Cousins, Tumble Driers and Stress'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-6337977213129871914</id><published>2009-01-11T12:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T13:09:28.660-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Racism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bingo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Banjo'/><title type='text'>New arm, racism and a bollocking</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello people, bet you thought I had forgotten you eh? No, I am still here but with some very strange stories to tell. Lets start at the very beginning (no I haven't gone all Von Trapp!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was back at the hospital last Friday and they finally have agreed to remove my plate but I have to share what the consultant said as it beggars belief. Despite me writing requesting my notes 4 times (2 by registered post) from Barnsley Hospital, they have never replied and have never sent them on to Basildon Hospital either. At my last visit to see the consultant at Basildon I broke down in tears and sobbed like a 4 year old as they still did not know what plate is in my arm and I just can't continue living with the pain. My consultant took pity on me and said he would speak to them personally although I did not hold out much hope. Anyway on Friday he said he had spoken to them and unfortunately they did not know either! However they have given him there best guess and we are going to go with it. I cannot believe it is not listed when spare parts are added to us, it amazes me no one thought to add this little gem to my notes I never received. The pain I am in maybe caused because of the main nerve to the hand hitting my plate and he is more worried about damage to this and quite frankly so am I, however, I am due my operation in the next six weeks and I will update you with progress. Welly has offered his help buy promising me a Banjo (I cannot play one yet!) to help strengthen my arm after I am fixed. Any tips greatly appreciated on this one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grew up in a very racist household and held the same views until I left, grew up and realised what a idiot I was. I now have a very different opinion, I believe people are just that, people, we are just wrapped differently and I get annoyed with things such as "Black History Week" being taught in schools. Yes lets teach all our kids that being black makes you different and that history is different for black people, AHHHHHHHH. When will they realise history is history and if you are not teaching it to show diverse cultures then the curriculum should be changed, the more fuss about the colour of someone skin causes more of a problem then it solves. As we prepare for this week again (even the people who teach think it is wrong) I find myself back on my soapbox about this subject and when I expressed this on a website someone recognised my name and knew where I worked and promptly told the company that I had different views to that of my employer. I never mentioned where I worked or used company email to publish my views. Despite all this I was hauled onto the office and given a royal bollocking although the manager did admit it was because he had to and that he agreed with me. Strange old world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going back to Scary Mary Night this week so will blog the latest gossip from the Bingo Hall later in the week in the meantime stay good, stay warm and stay cheerful people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angie xx&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-6337977213129871914?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/6337977213129871914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=6337977213129871914' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/6337977213129871914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/6337977213129871914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-arm-racism-and-bollocking.html' title='New arm, racism and a bollocking'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-9217055077787257766</id><published>2008-12-19T05:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T05:53:51.967-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stress, Welly and a damn fine Goose</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been some time since my last blog and much has happened in the run up to "I have to go shopping", "A Turkey is HOW MUCH!!!" and who can forget the classic "Where exactly did you put the decorations last year?". In my house I can honestly say I have given up trying, Welly has been walking around stressed to the max for the last two weeks and quite frankly if his mood does not improve, it will not be the Goose getting stuffed I can assure you. I have written the cards but failed to post them, bought most of the presents and have failed to wrap them, my house needs a bloody good clean but, yep I failed on that front too, so here I am with less than a week to go and I am at breaking point. I have come to the conclusion that it can all wait because as long as there is food and wine all will be well with the world. I am ignoring the fact my wine, ordered ages ago, has not been delivered, the tickets my pal promised for my favourite band are not forthcoming and I have to now spend Friday night doing all the housework I have been ignoring. I am now off to the hospital to give them the information they failed to get from my Barnsley Hospital notes, then I hope to arrange getting my plate out of my arm, finally. I think a large drink is in order followed by putting The Pogues on the stereo really loud and getting my head into the housework. You didn't really think I was going to tackle cleaning while sober did you?...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The latest "Wellyism"? The new president of America is called Alabama!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok people have a great weekend and will write more soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angie xx&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-9217055077787257766?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/9217055077787257766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=9217055077787257766' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/9217055077787257766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/9217055077787257766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2008/12/stress-welly-and-damn-fine-goose.html' title='Stress, Welly and a damn fine Goose'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-5697223782762007574</id><published>2008-12-02T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T11:25:21.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The joy that is Wellyism's</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I am the proud girlfriend of a lovely man known to all as Welly (obviously not his real name!) and he is, to be fair, a natural blond. Welly has the wonderful ability to stuff up words and get them wrong which (without meaning to be)  is funny as hell for me to such an extent, I have started writing them down. Lets start with the quote that started it all... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were discussing gardening, a passion of mine, and I thought I would have a go at growing Asparagus but, as it takes a couple of years to establish, I explained to Welly I would need an area that would be away from the dogs, grand kids or other animals. As ever he gave me every sign he was listening. I ended by saying "So, what do you think"? He replied "Yeah, great babe, that's a fabulous film"... I was a little confused until I realised what he meant, I had to really bite my tongue before saying "Honey, I think you'll find that was Spartacus!" Nice to know he pays attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK so that gives you an idea of how he thinks so try this one, TV had a arts programme on discussing the up and coming shows that are planned for next year and one of them was "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert" which I am very much looking forward to as I am a huge fan of the film and bless him he had to ask "Is that the life story of that Indian girl who won Miss World"? You know what? I think I will take him... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I must stress Welly is a very intelligent man, he is just well, blond! His daughter is no different, she thought a mariner is where you park a boat and cat nip is when your moggie goes out for a night on the tiles. &lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there any hope, no! Is it funny, HELL YES. Blonds rock on a comic scale!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-5697223782762007574?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/5697223782762007574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=5697223782762007574' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5697223782762007574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5697223782762007574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2008/12/joy-that-is-wellyisms.html' title='The joy that is Wellyism&apos;s'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-5325754875336397545</id><published>2008-11-26T03:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T04:04:47.036-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frosty Knickers is back...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So the freezer department are back on top bitch biting form as Frosty Knickers returns to work from a spell off sick. Morale has plummeted, as expected, and I have now been 3 days without anyone talking to me in the office. This I can live with but I know it won't last. At the moment the bitching is at a low point but as the Freezer Department gets back into the swing, I have no doubt the stupid, childish remarks will return. Just as well I have a sense of humour! After all I have a life and don't have the urge to follow their tactics and behave so badly, I know they dislike me so much that they think by continually treating me bad, that I will leave, but they are so wrong. I simply add it to my diary of complaints so that when or if I ever need to sue for say "Bullying" or "Workplace Intimidation" I have all the ammo I need. Best of all, it is all written during work time. When will they learn I really could not give a monkeys about their opinion! I think I will just carry on in my little corner in work and let them continue hanging themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scary Mary night tonight, hopefully a big win and no riots but as I said before, it is Dagenham, anything could happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take Care&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-5325754875336397545?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/5325754875336397545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=5325754875336397545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5325754875336397545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5325754875336397545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2008/11/frosty-knickers-is-back.html' title='Frosty Knickers is back...'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-195060660874251147</id><published>2008-11-20T13:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T15:02:18.783-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lady'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Docker'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bingo'/><title type='text'>Scary Mary Revenge!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went Bingo again last night and won a large enough sum to consider retirement and a holiday abroad, well alright perhaps a tenner won't get me that far but it felt really good and cheered me up no end after the rotten week I have had. Scary Mary was out in force and (like I expected any different) a fight kicked off in the middle of a game between a family of travelling folk and (I am sure the 90 year old from previous blog) a little old lady!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started when the travelling folk dared to chat during the game, if you have ever been Bingo you know this is next to swapping your granny for a shell suit, but I digress, anyway little old lady shushed them, a lovely exchange of docker language followed by our little old lady turning purple and exploding.. ok thats not true, but she did chuck a full scale wobbler on a par with "Honerable No.1" Grandson. Little old lady stood to her full height (about 3 foot 6!) and told them in no uncertain terms that if they did not shut up she was going to throw them out, to which they all stood up and told her they would quite happily question her parentage and escort her quietly, to a new home at the local church graveyard. At this point I have to point out that this happened in Dagenham which is classed as the "East End of London" to most folk, and that of course means East End War spirit... Ever seen an entire Bingo Hall stand up and look like a riot about to happen? Upshot was the travelling folk decided to move on. Life is never dull in Dagenham. &lt;P&gt; Many thanks to my sister Sarah for teaching me how to paragraph!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-195060660874251147?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/195060660874251147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=195060660874251147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/195060660874251147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/195060660874251147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2008/11/scary-mary-revenge.html' title='Scary Mary Revenge!'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-5995438552173359873</id><published>2008-11-19T02:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T03:40:44.513-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dogs'/><title type='text'>Death of Betty Bird</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It is with a very heavy heart that I blog today. My pet Crow known as Betty died yesterday morning. So as a memorial to her, I would like to share her short but good life with you all so I know she will always be remembered.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My partner and I have been rescuing animals for over 10 years and we both have our favourite beasts, mine are Rotties, Dobermans and Bearded Dragons, for my "dearly beloved" it is Rotties, Dobermans and Crows. We had never rescued a bird before but knew how my "dearly beloved" wanted one. One day about 3 years ago I got the call I had been waiting for. I was called to a house because they had a baby Crow that had been the sole survivor of a cat attack on the nest, unfortunately for my little feathered friend, both parents and all siblings had been killed so I took the bird home to recover until we could let them free in September with all the other flappers of the season. After taking the bird home and introducing them to there new temporary home, it was on to the Internet to learn all we could. We phoned our Vet for advice who put us in touch with a few specialised local rescue homes who all offered to take the crow in but, as it was only going to be a few months until her release, we decided to keep the bird at home instead, with their support. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We christened her "Betty" as she reminded me of my mum (very feisty and beautiful). Betty settled in well and we slowly but surely helped her learn to fly. Around this time I noticed that despite "dearly beloved" spending more time with her than I, Betty seemed to prefer my company. One Sunday night I was reading my Tarot Cards in my little circle on the floor when Betty suddenly flew down and perched herself on my shoulder. It felt amazing to have this huge bird sat on me! It was then I realised that as I worked, she was watching my every move from her vantage point and it occurred to me that she was my very first "familiar". My simplest explanation of a "familiar" is what a black cat is to a witch. From then on whenever I worked, Betty would join me in my circle, much to the annoyance of "dearly beloved". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Betty grew and was getting too large for her cage so we got her a bigger one and got ready to set her free. Two weeks before her release she caught on of her claws in a tree stump and broke her leg trying to release herself. We caught her and took her straight to the Vet expecting the worse, after x-rays it showed 2 options, amputation or be put down. We decided she deserved another chance so we had her leg removed even though this meant she would never be able to fly free as other birds would attack her. We then turned our living room into an aviary which raised a few eyebrows amongst our friends but not only did she survive this major operation, she recovered very quickly too. All too often it is the stress that kills. Betty made friends with my 3 cats and played happily with them for the next couple of years. She was fine with one of my dogs but the others she just bullied and pecked when given the chance! Betty had a very full life for a Crow and enjoyed playing with various toys and throwing bedding material all over the floor, she was also brilliant at waking you up as soon as the sun rose which I have to say, as a human, not good but at least it was natural... For her! Betty was a good friend who seemed to listen when you talked to her and she would do anything for a Chilli Dorito crisp. Our Betty passed away in her sleep and we found her yesterday morning with her head under her wing, very peaceful. I miss her more than words and she enriched my life in many ways. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Rest in peace my little feathered friend. Betty RIP.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-5995438552173359873?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/5995438552173359873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=5995438552173359873' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5995438552173359873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5995438552173359873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2008/11/death-of-betty-bird.html' title='Death of Betty Bird'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-5601304148878350537</id><published>2008-11-17T11:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T03:14:13.866-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Elephants'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Showers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rum'/><title type='text'>Unwanted baby showers &amp; Elephants</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hello, I have had a bit of a mad weekend and in true blogging style thought I would share it with you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Friday started out cool as finally got up to date with stuff in work which included the freezer department (a section in work that are very frosty to others). I used my very best polite mode with the freezer department in order to get the information I needed to finish my report and despite them arguing the toss I used a well known side tactic of smiling, walking out, and then, after the boss starts chewing my ear wanting to know where his information is, telling the truth! Raised a few eyebrows as my office are not familiar with the phrase "Truth" but very good with the following "Not my fault", "I asked so and so to do it" and the complete classic, " Oh that, (Enter name of someone off sick) was going to take care of it". Hence to say the information turned up super fast although I don't think I'll be getting a Christmas Card, ho hum!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Friday evening must be mentioned as one of class. I was invited to a baby shower which, in my humble opinion, is incredibly bad luck before the birth, even though I disliked the girl at school and like her even less now, I went as apparently no one cares about her and that caused my sympathy gene to kick in, as did the treat of my sister's foot up my backside if I dared not turn up. Upshot was apart from my sister, me and our mum, who was hosting the party, and the expectant lady's mum (who don't like her either), no one turned up apart from a friend of the expectant father (who was also missing). Between my sister and I, we had previously arranged a bet to get the strangest word into the conversation, I chose Elephant and succeeded twice, both times she missed it so gave up on that one. Have to admit it is a really good game and fun when in a boring situation.Anyway I digress, back to the plot. The friend of the expectant father who arrived, turned out to be a very old friend who I have not seen in over 20 years and remembers me as the little girl she babysat for. I remember her as being really cool as she took me to Girl Guides and had a bright red trill telephone in the hallway (way cool even now). We at this point, are still waiting for the expectant mother to turn up. It was getting late and we decided it would be waste of food, so we ate it, I continued "quality controlling" a bottle of white rum which I have to admit for a cheapo is highly recommended if only I could remember the damn name of it... The expectant mother who had no idea we were throwing her a shower decided not to turn up but after some strong words from my mother (DON'T MESS!) she duly arrived. We left some very sound advice in a book for her to read later which contained some gems such as "Here is NHS Direct telephone number, vasectomies are now free" and "Get a lock for the door under the stairs and stick baby in when stressed, after all, look what it did for Harry Potter!" and "It REALLY is a good idea to have another baby straight after this one". OK fair enough you can see where we were going with this but to be honest this girl is so unpleasant, she never even said thank you. Enough said. After leaving I went back to my sisters place where we finished off a bottle of Baileys whilst I awaited my prince charming to drive me home, hence to say I got home and my prince charming went into a loopy because my dog (only mine when she has done something wrong) had eaten through the wiring on his car. I know I should feel bad but I did say not to put her in the car alone as she gets stressed but you know men, it is never that simple. I had heard enough and went straight to bed as I was too slaughtered to write my blog, let alone argue.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Saturday was a bad headache day made worse by prince charming borrowing my car then telling me (over the phone) to expect the grandchildren at noon, AHHHHH! No babe, I did not need to go food shopping or see my friends that I could not see due to working all week while you have been at home! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Kids turned up at noon and as they are 1 and 2 you can imagine they are hard work, fun but hard. They got picked up around seven and I spent then rest of the night playing games on my laptop. Sunday I got up and went shopping (gotta love my local farm shop) and bought some fabulous local produce then spent the rest of the day cooking, my favourite pastime. Was a very bad girl that eve as I spent the evening getting very drunk, singing to my favourite drinking songs. I was late for work today (Monday)...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-5601304148878350537?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/5601304148878350537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=5601304148878350537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5601304148878350537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5601304148878350537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2008/11/unwanted-baby-showers-elephants.html' title='Unwanted baby showers &amp; Elephants'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-3291893741877142700</id><published>2008-11-12T14:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T15:46:31.971-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bingo &amp; Scary Mary</title><content type='html'>My step daughter mentioned a few weeks ago she really needed a break from the kids once a week and would I like to go Bingo. I got to admit I am virgin Bingo player so thought "Hey, why not" and off we went. I was slightly dubious as the last time we left the kids with my other half we came back to find the house &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt; trashed and my front door sporting a wonderful hole &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;courtesy&lt;/span&gt; of my other half's head! Nevertheless off we went and damn, I have been to a few strange places but nothing prepared me for the terror that is Bingo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There seems to be a few unwritten rules regarding going to the Bingo for instance, you must weigh at least 20 stone and be really old. You get extra points for looking "Scary Mary" and believe me I saw some bloody horrors tonight. On the other hand I like going as there is always someone fatter/older/uglier than me and it does wonders for my self esteem! I might be taking the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;mickey&lt;/span&gt; but I was gutted tonight, I was one number off winning 20K...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;AHHHHHHHH&lt;/span&gt;! Never mind, perhaps next week eh!. Oh and if you do go to Bingo don't make the same mistake as me and attempt to go for a fag in the smoking shelter during the break. Imagine this, a barrage of women running for the door with elbows and handbags flying, I actually saw a woman of around 90 smack another with her bag and shove her into a wall in a desperate attempt to get the door first. I thought at the time, damn, how badly do they need to smoke? It was pointed out to me later that they have machines that play Bingo during the break that are in the smoking shelter and they rush to hog them. My class comment of the day? In the smoking shelter tonight (which I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;braved&lt;/span&gt; purely out of desperation for a fag) a lady in a wheelchair came out and we all noticed how badly her legs were shaking, another lady piped up "You &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;? It is bloody freezing out here" to which the wheelchair user replied "No, I am not cold. I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Parkinson's&lt;/span&gt;!" I really did not know where to look but honestly, it was the funniest comment I have heard in years. Just a footnote, I did speak to the lady afterwards and she did say it was really hard to keep a straight face, and I have to say, now I have spoken to her, she has a wicked sense of humour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep smiling people xxxx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-3291893741877142700?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/3291893741877142700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=3291893741877142700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/3291893741877142700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/3291893741877142700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2008/11/bingo-scary-mary.html' title='Bingo &amp; Scary Mary'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-5252943758904005781</id><published>2008-11-10T11:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T12:01:17.767-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Good Day</title><content type='html'>Ok after my last rant which I have to admit I feel loads better for, I had a reply from a friend on twitter.com who's simple words of kindness and support made me realise perhaps I had gone a little too far and was worrying unduly. I talked to my Doctor and found that my situation is not as bad as I thought and yes today has turned into a good one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been waiting for nearly a year to get a plate removed from my arm as it causes me pain but have been held up because of one hospital not getting my notes from the other but when I saw the Doctor he gave me the letter I have been waiting for and with any luck I will be fixed by Christmas and can go back playing football again. My dream would be to play on West Ham's pitch as my aunt played for West Ham and England and I know how chuffed she would be to know I am following in her footsteps. But lets face it, at my age the ability to go more than 15 minutes without a oxygen mask is a bonus, bloody good fun though!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blogging lark is doing marvels for my temper, it is a lot easier to rant on my blog than take it out on others, I am more calm than I normal am so that has to be a good thing. Anyway enough for now, more later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-5252943758904005781?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/5252943758904005781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=5252943758904005781' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5252943758904005781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5252943758904005781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2008/11/good-day.html' title='A Good Day'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-1562008020325300278</id><published>2008-11-08T17:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T18:23:19.819-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Had enough now...</title><content type='html'>I am angry, proper pissed off with everyone who knows me, and I can say that as apart from Sarah, no one reads this blog. I honesty think Sarah is the only person who understands how I feel and even if we disagree, she still is still there with support for me anyway, she cares irrelevent of my fashion style and personal beliefs. She trusts me with the education and grounding basics of her children. My best friend loves me for who I am rather than the "Angie" that everyone associated with me, knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent most of this Summer helping another friend who I thought, needed it, I went out on a limb on more than one occasion, and was happy to do so but suddenly it's " Can you donate money to the fund" which I can sometimes do but not everytime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Friend's situation is not right with regard to her partner but not that much different from others after the surface has been scratched. Anyway, I am very close (I thought so anyway) to the girls and we all have partners/friends/relatives to celebrate their birthday's . I was asked to babysit instead! It would have been nice to be invited to the party instead of used as a babysitter. I am happy to admit I could not have gone tonight but after all I have done in the past It would have been nice to be invited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not the best fashion model, as you may well gather from this blog! I really don't understand colour or style but I do try. At my office I work with interesting problems but people are more interested in what I am wearing, rather than that I enjoy solving problems. I know it is wrong but I got fed up with being spied on everytime "the witches" walk behind me. I am very aware everything I do is reported back to the big boss but as I make sure everything I have to do is done before I start being naughty, I fail to see an issue. If they are desperate to know what I am doing they only have to ask the question! Then again, most of the people I work with are very lonely and prefer to spend time gossiping about others, personally, I'd rather steer clear! At the end of the day if they are talking about me then they are leaving someone else alone!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is hard to expain but I need to party like everyone else, this is why I sometimes, not often, need time to myself. My partner understands this and thankfully, lets me carry on, but now I don't feel safe going out after dark in a rural area on your own. As I have 4 Rottweillers it is not an issue for me but even so, I still get nervous. Can't wait to move,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-1562008020325300278?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/1562008020325300278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=1562008020325300278' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/1562008020325300278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/1562008020325300278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2008/11/had-enough-now.html' title='Had enough now...'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-8511486363867709080</id><published>2008-11-07T05:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T05:21:16.257-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Petrol Stations</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I am all for new technology but it seems to me that others are a tad confused. I fill up the car with petrol every week and normally use Tesco as I get loyalty points which means cash off our Christmas shopping, and, they are normally cheaper than my local garage (who are the rudest people in the world and deserve a blog all of there own just to fit in my complaints!) but I am getting fed up at the stupidity of others. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tesco have (and used for some time) a superb "Pay at Pump" option and now dedicate 2 pumps at the far end of the station to accommodate this. It is really quick and simple to use and saves me having to go into the shop therefore saving me time, but every time I use it I always get stuck behind the pillock who did not notice the bloody great big sign saying "Pay at Pump Only" in large enough letters it can be seen from space, they also fail to spot the notice stuck over the front and then, not to be seen as silly, start ranting at the poor person in the shop that they cannot get the pump to work! By the time they have finished I could have driven to the North Sea, pumped out raw materials, refined it, driven to garage and filled up their system and finally filled up myself all before pillock twit has worked out that he has to go to another pump. Come on people, the signs are everywhere, there is no excuse unless your illiterate and if you are, how the bloody hell did you pass your theory driving test and how do you read road signs!!! Ok a little harsh and I mean no disrespect to those who are illiterate but lets face it, if you can't read the chances of you knowing what I have written is low! Ok I had better go before the hate mail starts. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Have a great weekend people!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-8511486363867709080?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/8511486363867709080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=8511486363867709080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/8511486363867709080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/8511486363867709080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2008/11/petrol-stations.html' title='Petrol Stations'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-8049724541591775338</id><published>2008-11-05T06:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T06:36:12.189-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding Survival</title><content type='html'>Well, I survived the wedding without stacking it up the aisle on stupidly high heels (but fabulous shoes) and managed to open my eyes on Sunday with a small hangover and 3 children which amazed me as strickly speaking I don't have any!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After further investigation (as after the amount of Scotch I poured down my neck I deserved more than a headache) it transpired the children belonged to the bride &amp;amp; groom and had stayed overnight to allow for a overnight stay for the parents, in a hotel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Class comment came from the youngest who exlaimed after passing a Caravan Sales Site complete with Winnebago on show court front, "Auntie Angie, they've stole your house!" It took some time and visit back to mine to convince her that no one had stolen my caravan and that everything was as it should be. Bless her, made my day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-8049724541591775338?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/8049724541591775338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=8049724541591775338' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/8049724541591775338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/8049724541591775338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2008/11/wedding-survival.html' title='Wedding Survival'/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3961526298433528351.post-5153574936417123873</id><published>2008-10-31T03:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T03:48:05.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am feeling so happy today as it is All Hallows Eve, my favourate date in the calender year. The fact I am stuck in work is a bit of a downer but other than that got good things planned for today and the weekend as this is Friday. Off to Party at my sisters house then onto another party later then tomorrow I am chief bridesmaid at another sisters wedding although I am very nervous about this, I am just not comfy in a dress unless it is a 1940 or 1950 style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Found out yesterday my step son is joining the Royal Scottish Fusalliers (not sure on spelling!) and although I am very proud of him I feel so sad and anxious that he is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) leaving to join the army.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b) he might get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, we are all supporting him in his decision which we all believe to be the right one but to be honest, I am just finding it hard to let go and realising suddenly, my little step son is not so little anymore, I want to wrap in up in cotton wall but I suppose we all have to let go at some stage. As a step mum it is hard for others to understand how close you become to your partners children and how much these children mean to you, the unconditional love thing keeps jumping up and bitting my bum. Not something I ever expected to feel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3961526298433528351-5153574936417123873?l=angiewelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/feeds/5153574936417123873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3961526298433528351&amp;postID=5153574936417123873' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5153574936417123873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3961526298433528351/posts/default/5153574936417123873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://angiewelly.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-am-feeling-so-happy-today-as-it-is.html' title=''/><author><name>Angiewelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18037360730178080127</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BdDdpRq-mbY/SRGwE-lvUuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6sbm-lb5Jno/S220/Angie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
