Hello Peeps! You’ll never guess what I’ve been up to?
I’ve been ‘doing’ Sydney, as the locals say. No, you silly things, I am not doing Saul’s friend, Sydney. Sydney, the city. In Australia. That’s right! And we are soon to board a plane for New Zealand.
We are going to watch some rugby. Saul is so excited. Strange how they get worked up watching other grown men play with their funny shaped balls, hey girls?
First, though, I must apologize for not writing sooner. But Saul, my boyfriend, and I are having such an adventure that truth be told the last thing on my mind was blogging.
Seems odd for a woman of my age to say boyfriend, but he makes me feel like a young girl once more so who cares! You are only as old as you feel. And thank goodness I don’t have to worry about feeling myself much these days. Nothing like a change of oil to encourage a girl to learn how to use a new dipstick am I right? 😉
Anyway, as we have an hour before our flight, and I am the proud owner of a new laptop that Saul bought me in Singapore, I thought I would write a few words just to let you all know I am alive and well.
So, what happened, you are wondering? Well, there I was, sitting at home with my grandson, Jeremy when Saul telephones to say we are going on holiday. He wouldn’t say where, at first, but I managed to wheedle it out of him because I needed to know what to pack. And men are so silly about these things aren’t they girls?
What’s more, Saul has sold his dental practice to his cousin Hymie and decided to retire.
So I get to have him all to myself!
So, our holiday destination? London!
When we arrived we drove straight to Claridges, Saul’s regular hotel when he’s in town.
That first night we had dinner with that Arab chappy who owns Harrods. He’s a personal friend of Saul’s. I never realised how many famous people Saul knows!
He says he used to be the Queen’s personal dentist although between us I found this a little hard to believe as I have it on good authority from my neighbour, Madge, that the Queen sends her teeth away to be treated, but Saul showed me a mug with the queen’s face on and it turns out that the queen is, in fact, the late Freddy Mercury. Shame, that poor boy!
Well, anyway, before I knew what was happening we were flying to Paris and after one night, we were whisked away to Cairo!
I have never seen so much sand in one place before. And I have been finding sand in my drawers ever since. It is amazing how the stuff just won’t come out, even after several turns in the washing machine.
Which brings me nicely to the topic of hygiene.
Before we left for the airport this morning I had rather a strange call at our hotel.
The lady caller, who had obviously got the wrong number, announced herself by saying “Hi, Jean, this is Ros.”
When I said she must have the wrong number she enquired if this was not the local fanny.
Somewhat taken aback, thinking this was a crank call, I put the phone down at once.
Only later, did I find out that the woman was calling from FANI, which stands for Feminists Are Not Imbeciles; a lesbian activist organisation.
Apparently there are FANI’s in quite a few countries; which is a good thing.
So, girls, remember, if you get the call, please support your FANI.
Oh, there’s the last call for boarding. I must dash. Saul says he hopes to meet a New Zealand hooker after the match. It’s bad enough that Marge’s husband ran off with one. The man is insatiable!
Bye for now.
Love Aunty Jane xx
….or coping with memory loss.
My grandson, Jeremy, has a joke he likes to tell. It goes something like this.
Long John Silver stands on the empty deck of his ship and yells,
“Where’s me Buccaneers?”
To which his Parrot replies,
“On the side of y’buccan head y’fool.”
Which lends a bit of credence to that old saying , ”I’d lose my head if it wasn’t screwed on.”
I know it’s certainly true of myself. I couldn’t begin to guess how many times have I have lost something, only for it to turn up in the most unusual place.
Now in the case of my poor neighbour , Marge, she lost something but never got it back. It was her husband, Rodney. She lost him in Sainsbury’s.
It was too terrible and took her ages to get over the shock.
There they were doing the ‘weekly shop’, you how it is, ladies , yes, and had just walked by the hardware section. Marge knows her Rodney has a thing for nuts and bolts and especially assorted screws so she told him to , ”Wait here, okay?” while she went off to check out the pickled fish. After popping some herring into her trolley she went back to the hardware section and Rodney had disappeared. Now she was sure she had left him in this isle as she usually did every week and Rodney would happily while away the time waiting for Marge’s return by fiddling with all the nuts and bolts and other things men love to play with. But as she turned into the isle pushing her trolley -no Rodney. She was distraught and even after an exhaustive search he didn’t turn up.
Yet , after nearly six months she received a postcard from an anonymous person who claimed they had seen Rodney in Sydney with an Australian hooker. Marge was as distraught as she was baffled as she knew Rodney hated rugby.
Well, my dears, the point of this post is to make sure you keep your mind and your eyes sharp. And it could do no harm if we all learned a bit about rugby too I suppose. Men and their balls eh?
BFN. All the best. Love Aunty Jane x