Sorry I've not been in touch for a while

Oh hello, fancy meeting you here. Sorry I've not been in touch for a while, but I've been a bit busy.Well, I say busy. Mrs B will tell you that I've just been lazy. But I know different. I've not blogged for ages but there are some very good reasons for that. None will wash with she-who-has-blogged-more-recently-than-me, but here is the case for the defence. THE CLOCKS HAVE ONLY JUST GONE FORWARD. A lame excuse, maybe. But I just can't seem to get motivated when it's dark when you leave work, the wind is howling, the rain is pelting down and all you have to look forward to on TV is another family row on EastEnders, the latest reality show to find another poor sap to appear in another mindless West End musical or the new Specsavers advert. Now British Summer Time is here, I feel much more perky and ready to rumble. So watch this space. MY FAVOURITE FOOTBALL TEAM IS PLAYING LIKE A BUNCH OF CLUELESS IDIOTS. Sadly, I should be used to it by now. But whenever they go though this phase - which is usually at least once a season, starting in August and finishing in May - I become listless, morose and moody and can't seem to concentrate on anything for long. Mrs B has learned to live with this and knows when to mention the F-word (that's football, of course) and when not. It's safest to avoid it completely unless my heroes fluke a win (unlikely), they sack the manager (please), sign a world class superstar (yeah, right) or it's the close season (roll on). I HAVE HAD IMPORTANT TASKS TO SORT OUT. Ah, here I'm on safe ground. Mrs B is a wonderful woman (well, she might read this!) and has many admirable qualities (and this!). But she has also been on something of a mission in these last few weeks which has involved us choosing some new furniture, a nightmare for me at the best of times; painting and decorating, ugh!; tidying the outside of our home, per-lease; fetching and carrying our son and his girlfriend during their long-awaited visit from afar, otherwise known as Bramhall Cabs, always at your service; getting our leaking guttering replaced, hooray; and fixing our duff video recorder, a lump hammer did the trick. I've hardly had a minute to myself, but then again neither has she, yet she still gets everything done and more. Maybe it's a man thing. IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY RECENTLY. OK, so it was only one day. But turning a certain age (you don't think I'd be daft enough to reveal, it do you?) takes some getting used to. First I had to prepare myself for being another year older. Then there were the various festivities with my family and friends which had to be organised - well, beer doesn't drink itself, does it? Plus there was the shopping for my presents from Mrs B - have you been in a charity shop lately, the queues are horrendous! And afterwards, there was the slow realisation that perhaps I'm not as young as I was and maybe I should start to take things easy. Ah, that sounds appealing. I AM INHERENTLY LAZY AND DON'T DO THINGS UNLESS I AM PUSHED, OR MRS B TELLS ME TO DO. Now we are getting down to it. Despite all the above, I have no real excuses. Eventually, even I had to acknowledge that I was swinging the lead. So here it is my latest blog. Oh sorry, there's someone on the phone. Got to dash now. Laters!

Happy New January 16

Belated Happy New Year! So what has 2008 got in store for you? For me I think it's the menopause!(Just in case you think Mike has stopped taking his tablets, it's Mrs B here, by the way.) Late last year I turned 50. Which was OK as I celebrated in style with friends who were all reaching the same milestone. What I wasn't prepared for was going to bed one night a reasonably youthful 49-year-old, and waking up a peri-menopausal 50. I appear to have suddenly acquired all the symptoms that are graphically described in the many magazines designed for women of a certain age, that seem to relish in the subject. As I worked my way through the "Are you menopausal?" quiz, I came to the sad conclusion that, yes, I am. Forgetfulness is probably top of my list, if only I could remember where I've put it. I know we have all had those moments of vagueness when we find ourselves in a room, unable to remember why we were there, or even how we got there. But believe me, it gets worse. We live in an upside-down house. Not because Mike won't put anything away and the garage - his space - is a tip. No, it's because our home is on a steep slope, and was built with the lounge and kitchen on one floor, and our bedroom and garage on the floor below. I can't tell you how many times have I got to the bottom of the stairs and had to come back up again - only remembering why I went down in the first place as I reached the top? I've always prided myself on my organisational skills, probably to the point of obsession. Everything had to be in a file or on a list. They still are but I just can't find them until they turn up in the oddest of places. My overused phrase at the moment is "I wondered where that had got to!" Mike's is: "Why is the washing-up liquid/back door key/TV remote control in the fridge/airing cupboard/biscuit tin?" Anxiety, now that's a good one! How would I know? I've always been one of life's worriers. Mike often jokes (remember the mood swings, Mike!) that I worry that I haven't anything to worry about, but I need not worry as something worrying always turns up. Forgetfulness. Did I mention that one? Weight gain. Well I am sporting a Christmas pudding middle at the moment but I'm sure the inevitable Norovirus diet will sort that one out! Hot flushes. No one can prepare you for these. They sweep up, without warning, from the soles of my feet to the tips of my ears which end up looking and feeling like two little braised lamb chops on the side of my puce, steamy face. Not an attractive look. I recently sat in coffee shop with a couple of friends when we all had a power surge at the same time. We must have looked ridiculous, all huffing and puffing, fanning ourselves with serviettes. I suspect this could be contributing to global warming. If anybody has any tips how to deal with this I would be eternally grateful. I read that a walk can help with the symptoms of the menopause. So as I wander around the house from room to room, up and down the stairs, wondering what I'm looking for, I can rest assured that the walk at least is doing me good.