Absolutely fabulously fabulous, Darhling: 

 I remember as a tweenie watching Eddy and Pasty get their swag on; a Stoli-Bolli in one hand and a Marlboro Light in the other, swamped in fur all topped off with a crazed hair do: bigger is better. (It’s their booze, fags n fur I might add, I was all set with a lemon squash thanks – my eyes on stalks.) Let’s just say it set the benchmark for adulthood… although I may have taken a wrong turn somewhere – right into Lynnet Scavo’s  life. *shakes head* The universe had other ideas!

‘Paddy’s’ friendship is infectious. I want in.

 

I want to be their sidekick. To be in their gang wearing a hideous Versace medallion perfectly clashing with my Alexander McQueen cape and Burberry knee highs. Crashing flash parties whilst they desperately try new fads to stay hipity hop hip. They don’t notice that all around them are raised eyebrows, a daughter who must have a great relationship with the receptionist at The Priory by now, and a totally bonkers mother. They are oblivious in their bid to keep up with the twentysomethings, loving life – one bottle of bollie at a time.

“The last mosquito that bit me had the check into the Betty Ford clinic” – Patsy: just saying.

I would actually like to be patsy… For a day. Please?!

This latest instalment is promised to take us right back to the 90’s – which isn’t a bad thing given the shenanigans of 2016 so far. The hey day of our Pats n Eds dahrling; where the cocaine flows, and the fash pack are on speed dial. This time around Eddie gets blamed for killing Kate Moss (accidents will happen…) in true Thema and Louise style the gruesome twosome make a run for it to the playground of the super rich. A little bit silly, bound to be a lot funny.

If the trailers are anything to go by this is going to be worth the gazillion squid for the cinema ticket, the parking, the popcorn and the drinks. Oh yes, seeing these 2 lunatics lording it up on a 2o ft screen for a couple of hours is most definitely worth a score my ‘sweetie dahrlings’.

Who else shares my uber love of this scrumptious double act?

*desperately trying to not be as sweary.

See the trailer here!

Absolutely Fabulous Movie is out Friday 1st July

 

If Fireman Sam did Tinder…

PROFILE


Samuel Jones aka ‘Fireman Sam’

Forever 25

Pontypandy, Wales

About Sam..

Action stations girls:

I am single and ready to mingle

I have extensive experience of using a double harness, and ensure I have my giant hose ready at all times to put out the hottest of flames.

Most of my time is taken up looking after a town full of arsonists and deranged inbred kids. It’s time to show bunny boiler Penny that I, Samuel Jones, is ready for some non-PontypandyPoon.

My spare time is spent waiting for the next shitstorm, I do this whilst keeping a close eye on that fuckwit Elvis.
So, swipe right, and let me show you a good time- in a village more dangerous than Midsomer.

Over and out.

Life Love and Dirty Dishes

10 jobs I could nail thanks to my 5 years Muma experience

1) Waitress – think Wimpy, not La Gavroche.

2) Uber cab driver, USP: Providing a 3 course meal whilst in transit. Will that be the crusts off marmite on white or the mini chedder’s sir?
3) Hostage negotiator: If I can talk a Toddler in arsehole mode down from throwing a cold cup of coffee over cream carpet…
4) Cleaner: speciality tool, wet wipes. Kitchens, bathrooms, walls, arses. I got this…
5) Community police officer: you really don’t want to be leaving your dog’s shit on the pavement or park in the Toddler / Muma spaces on my watch.
6) Laundrette skive, is that Dot Cotton or me? Blurred lines.
7) Teaching assistant, I haven’t suffered at the hands of an enthusiastic 4 year old armed with a Biff n Chip book for nothing, and don’t even get me started on the ‘Pen Licence.’
8) Risk assessor: Stairs, streams, fire pits, ovens, big dogs, small yappy dogs, busy roads, quiet roads, bees, spicy food… you name it, I’ve risk assessed it.
9) Red Coat: entertainment covered 12 hrs a day, special skill: leading a dance off whilst folding washing, singing just like Adele. No lies.
10) Chef, speciality diets: no beans for one, only carrots for the other, no courgettes peppers or spice on another. No carbs, low carbs, only ‘good’ carbs. Gluten free, meat free, extra meat. Only meat. No sauce meat balls, naked pasta… with ham sprinkled on top of everything.



Have I left any out girls? Let me know…

Life Love and Dirty Dishes

Stay-At-Home-Muma or Working Muma? My choice…

As sensitive a subject as Breast verses Bottle; I’m half wincing even beginning this blogpost. The time old argument, or rather ‘discussion point’ of Working Muma V’s Stay at Home Muma seems to rage on. Article after article is written on the subject, all contradicting the last, all claiming to be the latest research and written either by Earth Mother herself wrapped in her tie dye gently rocking back and forth on a rush matt with a toddler feeding from her, or City slicker Muma: louboutins- check!

These two extremes don’t really cater for The Lidl Muma – and by that, I mean me! What’s right for the Muma that’s been educated reasonably well?

I was fortunate enough to go to a very academic school, we were all aboard the conveyor belt of GCSE’S, AS levels, A levels, and then on to University as a standard. Utter scandal ensued should you have deviated from this, the very thought of ‘vocational course’ was placed next to shelf stacker as an option. From university I went on to work in recruitment mostly: I’m basically very gobby which helps in a sales environment!

I remember the day I finished work and begun my journey in to MatLeave like it was yesterday: An over indulgent lunch with my colleagues, well friends actually; I spent 50 hours a week with these people! Anyway I bid them all adios with armfuls of Pink goodies, vowing to return in a years time…

However, I just couldn’t tear myself away from my Darcie shaped bundle. I even went to a keeping in touch day, shame it was a financial planning meeting that had me wishing I could bolt out of the door. My brain felt like mush, did I get the train through to Paris because I’m clearly not speaking the same language anymore. That evening I broke the news to The Hubster that I just couldn’t go back to work and asked if we could financially survive.

If I’m totally honest I haven’t looked back since I waddled out of the office door ready to embrace Mumahood. Don’t get me wrong, there have been been moments where I have thought how lovely it would be to have a lunch break, especially when I have been on an involuntary starvation day due to a colicy baby, or a loo break sometimes, ALONE. And yes I have yearned to have a quick browse around the shops on late-night Thursdays after work on more than one occasion. But, and here’s the big but, my bottom line and my raison d’etre: I don’t want to miss out!

I don’t want to be the one to miss the first step, or first word – which would have been nice to be Muma just once: Dada got that, twice. It’s the more mundane everyday stuff that makes you the constant: toddler tripped up and it was me that comforted her, toddler cuts another tooth and needs more cuddles, toddler whacks victim for custard cream at playgroup, – Hell, Toddler has morphed into ToddlerMonster and chucks ‘treasure’ down the loo! I want to be the observer, the comforter, the disciplinarian, and not miss a beat.

However, in my quest to Nurture have I thrown away a great education and a career to boot? Is it realistically possible for me to return to work and still not miss a single thing? Well, of course not because it’s physically impossible to be in two places at once. It doesn’t seem fair that nature has given women a heart wrenching choice to make: follow your career, aspirations and dreams that you may have worked long and hard to build, before children. Or park it. Can a happy medium be reached or do you just end up not achieving either terribly well?

The responsibility I feel as a Stay At Home Muma to show my girls that women are invaluable to the work place is huge, I’m not leading by example here at all. I feel I must try to convince them that Muma is more than just a cleaner / cook / driver / occasional fair weather gardener. I don’t want them assuming that just because Muma doesn’t work I don’t have a brain and can’t answer their billions of critical questions – I can work Wikipedia just as well as the next Muma thanks. So with this in mind I’m now an upstanding member of the Nursery PTA and a wannabe Blogger, the fact that Darcie has begun referring to me as Muma On The Edge is frankly frightening.

This is a topic really close to my heart; I do strongly believe that every Muma strives to do the very best they can for their babies, its nature’s way. There is no perfect way to bring up our babies, just your way. And my god I hope I don’t fuck this up…