At the End of the Day and Other Ramblings

It has become my ambition to get through the day without hearing the phrase, 'At the end of the day.' What does that mean anyway, 'At the end of the day?' I tell you what it means. It means NOTHING, that is what it means. It goes on my list of no-nos along with the misuse of the words 'legendary' and 'awesome.'

But then there are several things that bemuse me. Like tattoos and piercings. I say this as someone who is too scared to have either. Actually, I say it as someone who does not feel the need for extraneous holes upon my person, and someone who looked down at the area between her knees and feet today, surveyed the sudden appearance of what can only be described as elephant wrinkles and thought, 'thank goodness I never had that butterfly tattoo on my ankle that I toyed with years ago because now it would be looking like a deflated caterpillar. Or some kind of rainbow poo.'

Ducklings and goslings have appeared on the lake in the park. Spring has officially arrived although come the evenings I still feel inexplicably cold. I am on the verge of blaming my thyroid, and keep poking my neck for any suspicious swellings. All this does is make me cough. I discarded my fluffy socks a couple of weeks ago because it seemed absurd to be wearing fluffy socks in April, for goodness' sake, but my feet turn blue in the evenings, and what with the coughing I think I might need to reinstate the socks. And a scarf.

Andy managed to throw a jar of marmalade across the kitchen floor this morning in a quite spectacular and nerve shattering display of 'Oopsadaisy!' Now I know we are still trying to wade through the results of my mammoth marmalade making session of 2011, but really there was no need for that, dear heart. I mean, I made a marmalade cake last week. That got rid of 4 tablespoons.

The Year 11s are getting very fidgety as study leave and exams approach. Some of them are trying to escape early using tenuous excuses as they are rounded up on the school drive way like wayward gnu. 'But Mr Jones said we could go bowling.' Yeah, right. It's like manning Colditz sometimes. Darren said, 'Will you miss me, Miss?' 'No,Darren,' said I. 'Bet you will,' said Darren. 'I'll come back and visit you.' 'Please don't,' said I. He laughed. I suspect he may think he has spotted some irony, something we have been practising for his exam. I want to tell him he hasn't.

I continue my master plan to plant the entire world,nay the Universe, with lavender by installing 5 more plants in the back garden. That makes 19 now. I ought to make it a round 20, but I prefer odd numbers so perhaps 21 then. I love lavender. Can one have too much lavender? I don't think so. I wish it could survive as a houseplant. Then I could line ALL the windows in the house with pots of lavender and ruffle them as I pass by. Everyone would be in a soporific stupor by Friday.

Pandora is a bit better. The last time I said this, she got worse. So forget I said that. (But she is!)

After 12 years with the same company we have decided to change our broadband Internet supplier. This is clearly the act of crazy people because something is bound to go hideously wrong during the changeover, and we shall become embroiled in some dreadful customer service debacle and in two years time we shall have to involve The Guardian Money page to sort it all out, whereby we shall be offered a derisory £25 in compensation for the distress caused, along with a bouquet of flowers that wilt and die within 12 hours of being delivered. Watch this space for the inevitable rant-a-roony.

I think Joan Collins should avoid wearing ruched satin because it makes her look like a half empty loo roll that has been dropped in water and then dried out on a very hot radiator.

I brought some forget-me-nots home from the allotment at the weekend and put them in a clear glass vase of water. I can see that they are starting to sprout roots. Do I put them back in the ground in the front garden? Will they survive? Shall I transfer them into a pot first, then pop 'em in the ground when they have finished flowering? Oh Lord - why am I being tormented with angst about forget-me-nots.

Apparently the DVD of The Life of Pi is out now. I tried reading the book but didn't get very far. Might do better with the film. What I am really waiting for is the arrival of the Pie of Pi. So long as it is vegetarian. With a nice cheesy crust.

And that, at the end of the day, concludes my ramblings.