My OId Man’s a Dustman

Only he wasn’t.  My father, that is.  He didn’t wear gor blimey trousers or a dustman’s hat although occasionally, it has to be said, he looked a proper narnar.  For which I can only blame the brylcreem.

Anyway, this evening SmallCat did an impersonation of me.  It wasn’t so much what he said, it was HOW he said it that alarmed me.  It sounded like Michael Caine, (don’t get me started on him, just DON’T).  In other words – Cockney.  Like I was born within the sound of Bow Bells.  Like I’m some kind of Pearly Queen, for heaven’s sake.

Let me get a few things straight here.

1.  I was neither born within the sound of Bow Bells and nor have I even HEARD them.

2.  Yes, I was born and brought up in London but everyone in my house had Irish accents and not once were the words “blimey”, “leave it out, mate”, “you’re avin’ a larf” or “geezer” heard over Sunday lunch.  Which, incidentally, was dinner.  Not lunch.  We never had lunch.  Lunch was only introduced into my vocabulary when I went to college and I still feel uncomfortable using it. In reality, there is no such thing as lunch.

3.  I detest Michael Caine

4.  I do not watch Eastenders. 

Having established the ground rules, I think we can move on now.  Me old china.

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This week I have been mostly still not employable

Facts, figures and backsides

Days away from blog – lots

Amount of days left before unemployment - 12

Job applications made between 15th August and 5th October – at least 30.

Interviews – 0

Offers on house – 3

Offers withdrawn – 3

Number of chest infections SmallCat has had since July – 2 (yes, he’s had another bad incident since the pneumonia, hence the absence)

Number of inhalers in house – 3

But figures can also be good.

Number of interviews since 5th October – 4

Number of interviews lined up this week – 2

% morale boost achieved by said interviews - 100

Catflaps successfully installed – 1

Mortgage offers agreed – 1 (hurrah!)

Children now much better – 1

Lovely boyfriends – 1 

Number of young men exposing their bottoms to your erstwhile bloghost this year – 1.

Well, really.  I have no idea what that was all about, but whilst at Hardwick Hall this summer we took a tour of the older, ruined Hall which was replaced by the jaunty number in the previous blog post. As we were ascending a set of stairs to look at some precariously placed plaster decorations, the young man ahead of me suddenly, and with malice aforethought, dropped his pants without so much as a by your leave.  It was all done so quickly that MrCat didn’t even notice, and the youngsters ahead continued on their progress with the merest of guilty sniggers to give them away.

The view from the top window was unexpected to say the least 

I had two options.  Express shock like the middle aged, middle class, middle of the road woman he no doubt took me for, or make some kind of nonplussed comment in the hope of embarassing him in front of his friends.

I leave it to you, dear reader, to decide which route I chose.

This week I have been mainly frantic and on the phone