The curious incident of the missing sock

I would like to dedicate this blog to anyone out there who has ever suffered the misfortune of losing a dearly treasured sock. If this is you, then read on.

Yesterday, after what can only be described as a glorious night of sleep, I awoke (as you'd expect because if I hadn't, I probably wouldn't be writing to you). Unfortunately, I was ever-so perplexed on my return to the land of the living.

I opened my eyes and then looked down to the end of the bed. As usual, my duvet was hanging over the edge, one of my pillows lay casually abandoned on the floor and the teddy bear that I DO NOT sleep with- (it just so happens to have been residing in my bed for the last 25 plus years) was now at the foot of my bed.

None of this was the source of my confusion. No no, the source of confusion was (and still is) the sock that was (and still is) missing from my left foot. Friends, dear friends, this is something that has never happened to me before. I have never lost a sock during sleep; during the laundry somehow- yes. But during sleep- never.

So the mystery begins.

I put my detective hat on and asked myself the three crucial questions:

• Where did I last have it? On my left foot last night.
• When did I last see it? On my left foot last night. 
• When did I notice it was missing? When I woke up in the morning, with a cold left foot. 

Do you see a pattern occurring here?

Evidently- I think you will all agree: I am a rubbish detective.

So, I searched my bed and the surrounding floor. But did I find the missing sock? No.

I searched the rest of the house, in case I'd taken up sleep-walking for one night only. Did I find the missing sock? No. Apparently I still don't sleep-walk after all.

Anyway, I dearly hope to be reunited with my dearly departed sock very soon. If you have seen it, it is black and fluffy on the inside and- if you try it on, super-duper warm.

I fear that if I am not reunited with the sock of my left foot, the right foot will have to be sent to the sock graveyard... the place of doom where socks who have lost their other half are sent. It is the no-man's-land of the sock world, where lost socks wait for their partner to be returned. Time is the enemy of the lost sock: if it's partner is not found within 6 weeks, then they are sentenced to a much worse fate... the bin.

So dear readers, I finish this blog today, missing a true friend of my left foot. I will keep you up-dated about the fate of the socks. But in the mean time, keep your feet warmers safe.


Mx

WANTED: New members to join the Day-Dreamer's Association

Hello lovely readers,

Today I am making an appeal for new members to join the 'Day-Dreamer's Association'. Our current membership is small; at the moment it stands at, well... just 1... and that is me. I am in the process of inducting Dave into the association, but he says he 'needs more time to think about it', which- in my opinion, makes him a perfect candidate.

If you are interested in finding out what qualities are involved to be a member, as well as general information, read on!

Qualities we look for:

• The ability to be able to create a convincing look that says I AM INTERESTED, when someone is talking to you about something really boring like... quantum physics. If they don't notice that you have 'switched off' (as it were) and moved onto sunnier climes with wonderful thoughts of anything and everything but what is being discussed, then you have what we're looking for.
• If you frequently use sentences that begin: 'Imagine IF...' / 'IF I were...' / 'IF only we could...' / 'What do you think would happen IF...' et cetera, then join the club! Any self-respecting day-dreamer will live in a world that's better, as they've created it. For example, yesterday I said to Dave: "What do you think would happen if there suddenly became holes in gravity and people started floating off? Do you think they'd be able to get back when they found a place where gravity hadn't defected? I suppose they'd probably come whooshing back down, but do you think they'd land with a controlled descent, worthy of the Olympic gymnast? Or do you think they'd land with a bit of an ungraceful thud? What do you think Dave?" 

          He turned around and said (after clearing his throat): "Mildred, I am not going to dignify that question with an answer," to which I countered, "but what if it really happened Dave? What then?" He raised his eyebrows and said that he didn't think this would happen in our lifetime, so I wasn't to worry about it anymore. I looked at him and silently willed him to read my mind: 'that didn't answer the question! Honestly Dave, you're failing in your boyfriendly duties now, as you should really be humouring me.' He just looked at me blankly. Apparently we're not telepathic after all... 

           But if you found yourself reading this and considering what would actually happen if gravity started to (invisibly) resemble mouse cheese (the one that's filled with holes), then you've definitely got what it takes to be a world-class day-dreamer.

• This next quality is very easily achieved by a well-practised day-dreamer. If you often find yourself asking the question: 'Where did all the time go?' (complete with quizzical facial expression), then you are an ideal member of this fabulous group. This sort-of person will often decide to do something as simple as... sitting down for 5 minutes with a cup of tea/ coffee/ other hot beverage. Thirty-seven minutes later, they consult their watch and wonder, 'where did all the time go?' 

          Believe me, this is very easy to do and actually, something Dave is guilty of doing ALL THE TIME! He'll say; "I'm just popping to the shop for some milk/ bread/ potatoes [delete as applicable]. I'll be back in 10 minutes." One hour later he finally returns home with whatever it was he went out for, complete with an explanation (often unnecessarily detailed) about why he's taken so long. 

• Our penultimate quality is one that many people have mastered, though they don't often realise that they are in actual fact day-dreaming. This is simply when they are at work and appear to be doing their work, when actually they are planning this evening's dinner/ what to wear on that date tomorrow night/ what to buy their friend for their birthday which was actually yesterday. 

• Lastly, our final day-dreamer is one who may not indulge in the dreaming-of-the-days that often, except when travelling alone. They have a unique ability to be able to 'FILL IN THE BLANKS' of the lives of their fellow travellers. For example, the couple sat across the aisle from you may look like they have only just met, but don't be fooled! They've actually been together for several years and he's just gently told her that her lipstick's smudged onto her cheek, to which she's turned to him and asked why it is he's always criticising her? You know this, because she does in actual fact have a great big lipstick smudge on her face. But nobody has told you anything: all of this you have deduced with your day-dreaming expertise.

So, to make it easier for you to see if you fall into one or more of the above, I have created a list (in order), summarising the above with the type of day-dreamer that you are.

1. Convincing-day-dreamer
2. Hypothetical-day-dreamer
3. Magical-day-dreamer
4. Auto-pilot-day-dreamer
5. Intense-thinker-day-dreamer

If you think that this all sounds a little too familiar, then join today!
If you see one or more of these qualities in yourself, then join today!
If you have read this and thought, 'that's so Martyn!' (or whoever you know that's reminded you of them), then recommend this group to them and encourage them to join today!

Membership is free. Plus- as an additional bonus, they'll be no excessively long newsletters sent, no meetings to attend and definitely no day-dreaming progress reports to submit.

Until next time, I wish you all well in your day-dreaming endeavours.

Mildred
Chairwoman (and sole member) of the Day-Dreamer's Association

January's grand-daughterly duties fulfilled...

Hello to all you wonderful people out there,

Today I am going to share with you, news of my most recent outing- trust me, it's a good'un! It features me- Mildred, Dave- the boyfriend, Gma (AKA Grandma) and Gma's friend Betty. Funnily enough, it almost didn't feature Betty as she was actually Gma's second choice companion for the evening. Her first choice was actually (somewhat unbelievably), a fellow woman of the Mildred variety, but unfortunately Mildred Senior had to pull out at the last moment due to reason's I'd best not divulge... though I am thankful as that made writing this much easier. 

Anyway, this year Dave and I decided to treat Gma and a plus one to a night out. After much deliberation we decided that this would make the best Christmas present as it fulfilled all of Gma's (fairly restrictive) criteria: NO chocolates or sweets; NO make-up, toiletries or perfume; NO food-substances; NO books; NO ornaments and clutter and definitely- under NO circumstances- gift vouchers.

Working within those rather specific guidelines, we opted for a trip to the theatre to see a show called "The Life and Time's of the Immortal Time-Traveller" (who's name I have forgotten, as every time he travelled through time he acquired a new name. I think his last name was Simon... yes, that sounds familiar... so let's say it was definitely Simon to avoid any confusion).

We arrived at the theatre in good time, which was just as well as Dave and I had booked tickets for the balcony. The ascent of the 105 stairs took some time as both Gma and Betty are part of the HR club (Hip Replacement club), but they soldiered on until they had both conquered their Everest and were seated comfortably. At this point, Dave and I were falling behind, what with the stress of making sure that Gma and Betty remained vertical and- at no point on our watch- horizontal. It was only when we reached the top that we realised that there was actually a lift (but at no point did we mention this to Gma and Betty)...

During the interval, Dave and I decided to splash out on the over-priced baby-pot sized tubs of ice cream. I say splash out, but what I really mean is, treat Gma and Betty to one each, because at £3 they were a little steep for us. Not that long ago Dave and I were both students, and I can tell you- once a student, always a student. Frugalness is a very tricky trait to shift; believe me I've tried. But as Gma and Betty are both part of that other club- you know- the big one: the OAP group, we decided to treat them. Both of them opted for 'Rum and Raisin', though I'm not sure that that was one of their finer decisions as it seemed to both Dave and myself that those tubs had been lost to the depths of the freezer for some time and consisted of mostly- well, rum. They certainly seemed a lot chirpier after those!

Just before the second half, we bought a pair of binoculars. Then, I did something I haven't done in quite some time: I indulged in a youthful past-time of mine (although it wasn't quite the same without my old friend Dee-Dee to share the sightings with). I did a spot of people-watching.

There's nothing quite like it! Watching people graze on their miniature ice-creams with the silly plastic spoon's; watching people talking animatedly; watching the rich people in the private boxes watching everyone else; watching people be people and do people things like, attempting to have a rummage in the nasal area when they think that no-one is looking... but they didn't count on Mildred (minus a Dee-Dee), did they? No sirree. People watching is basically, Big Brother... only live. Great fun! Until it gets a bit boring.

As I was people-watching, Dave was Mildred-watching and suggested that I should become a spy. I was so excited at this, I almost flew off the balcony but luckily- Dave is a good boyfriend and rescued me from my (almost) impending flight. I turned to him and I said: "The name's McManus- Mildred McManus. Double oh seventeen at your service." Immediately Dave changed his mind: apparently I'd make a rubbish spy after all.

The rest of the show passed without event and ended with rapturous applause- with the main source of the volume emanating from Gma and Betty in a rum-fuelled-clapping-appreciatively-frenzy. Know how I know that? Because their feet started clapping on the floor, as well as their hands AND, Gma and Betty started 'wooping' and 'bravo-ing'. Dave and I on the other hand were a little more sedate in our applause. If only we'd had some rum...

Eventually we got Gma and Betty to their respective home's in one piece, but only after a little bit of drama our end. We almost missed the last train, but luckily we had a taxi driver who didn't know what red lights on the traffic lights were and cruised on by them. I felt like I was in a high-speed pursuit! I think Dave did too as he was sat 'up-front' whilst I was sandwiched between our ladies in the back seat. But the most important line I'm missing out is Dave's.

He hurried to the taxi driver and knocked on his window. It opened a creek and Dave asked him: "'Excuse me mate, what are the chances of making the quarter to?" The taxi driver looked at the clock on the dash: it read 22:34. Then he looked at our older passengers- not realising that they were rum-fuelled and therefore very sprightly, before turning back to Dave; "They're not good, but I can try."

And try he did as we made the train and we all lived happily ever after. No, wait... that's a different story!

But until next time, 

THE END.

Mx  

The tale of the engagement that never was, one woman's lifetime ban in the kitchen and goodness only knows what else...

Hello once again dear friends!

Are you sitting comfortably? You see, I have much to tell you. Try as I might not to ramble, I can’t omit too much from what I need to tell you without leaving out the story, otherwise my blog would read:

Hello once again dear friends!

…..

The end.

I think you’ll all agree, that doesn’t make for interesting reading in the slightest. So, it is with that, that I have concluded that a little bit of waffle receives the thumbs up.

Having established that, I shall now begin.

In this blog I’m going to bring you up to speed with my life as it stands at the moment (or rather, as it sits at the moment as I am currently sat writing to you, not stood up). Since I last wrote to you (not including yesterday), the following has happened:

·        I have finished my stint as a builder with- thank goodness, all ten fingers and toes still in situ.

·        I have taken up employment at my brother Scott’s garage temporarily until they can find a suitable candidate to fill the void vacancy. Their last receptionist abandoned the car trade in favour of sunnier climes: the lorry world. So I was brought in at the last minute, having earned my wings or stripes (or whatever it is that you earn) as a consequence of driving to Scotland and back in a Ford Ka. Apparently, that’s a right-of-passage into the car world, which I thought was rather cool- because, I’ll be honest- I have never once been described as cool… until now! Although, that could just have been Scott making things up… Hey-ho: I’m cool!

·        I have recently started dating my best friend Dave (who I’ve known for what feels like a zillion years). I am very happy. This follows on from our great Scottish adventure. He wrote me a poem you see. Some people might describe it as romantic, others less so. It’s quite sweet, so I’ll stick it at the end of my blog for you to read (in case you’re interested that is).

·        I have recently been engaged to Dave for all of ten minutes, courtesy of Scott. Thank you brother dearest (note the sarcasm if you’re reading, Scott!).

      We were attending Mum and Dad’s annual Christmas Jumper Party, when this startling revelation was made. Dave was talking with Grandma- or rather, Dave was listening to Grandma talking- as so often is the case. Meanwhile, I was chatting with Scott and the other guys from the garage- Harry, Lance and Louis when Scott unexpectedly announced that they were looking forward to hearing news of mine and Dave’s engagement. I was totally baffled and asked him how much beer he’d consumed.

      Ignoring me, he says: “come on Mils, everyone knows that Dave’s going to pop the question on Christmas day. It’s just so obvious. I mean, like I’ve just said- everyone knows.” I looked at him and the guys then slowly raised just one eyebrow. “Who’s everyone?” I asked, to which he replied: “oh, you know… me” [sip of drink] “the lads” [slightly larger sip of drink] “mother” [finished drink off]. I smiled serenely and walked over to Mum who was chatting with Julia (my godmother) and proceeded to explain that there would be no wedding as there was no engagement.

      Momentarily, Mum acted as though I were talking gibberish before casting a scathing look at Scott. “What?!” he said, “I couldn’t help it Mum- I’m just so excited my baby sister’s getting married!” At this, various stander-abouter’s start to congratulate me and Dave- with the exception of Dad. Dad takes poor bewildered Dave aside and asks why he hadn’t asked my father’s permission to marry me, considering he’d asked my father’s permission to help cook Christmas dinner. Before Dave could explain, Dad started going on about priorities and stuff- all the while, I’m being congratulated at being ‘off the shelf at last’…

      Eventually, Scott had to stand on a chair and announce that our engagement was a non-engagement. This meant that the congratulations quickly turned to commiserations from everyone except Grandma. This- dear friends, is how rumours start!

·        I have- since Christmas, acquired a major aversion to stuffing. No other food- just stuffing. I can no longer eat it.

·        I have not had my lifetime ban in the kitchen lifted this year. Dad kindly explained that: “it’s called a lifetime ban Mildred, because it lasts for life.” I asked him if he and the jury (better known as Mum and Dad) would reconsider. I received a very short answer: “no.” Honestly, you make one mistake and everyone forever holds it against you.

     

      Did I mean to set the turkey on fire? No.

      

      Did I intend for what became a ‘turkey-fireball’ to fall out of its tray and burn a hole into the kitchen lino? No.

      Did I apologise? Yes, profusely… though I don’t think it was accepted as I began my apology with the classic ‘it’s not fault, but…’ opener. That- ladies and gentlemen, was six years ago now and the jury just will not relent and reconsider my punishment, but at least they can laugh about it now. It’s a story that has gone down as McManus folklore and will one day become the stuff of legends (at least the way I tell it will).    

·         I spent New Year’s Eve with a bunch of strangers- three of which trod on my foot and one managed to wallop my shoulder with a bit of flamboyant dancing. Of course, aside from the strangers that made up 99% of the venue, I celebrated the start of 2012 with four renditions of Auld Lang’s Syne (honestly DJ, what went wrong?), with the boyfriend Dave, his brother Chris and Chris’s girlfriend Stephanie. All in all, jolly good fun.

      So, this takes us right up until the present moment where I am currently attempting to stick to my New Year's resolutions. I look forward to catching up with you this year and leave you today with my charming poem from Dave:

Dave’s poem for Mildred

Oh Mildred, Mildred, where is my Mildred? I miss her, my bright purple lid. Neither one of us are any longer a kid, which is just as well as we’re not baby goats.

Oh Mildred, Mildred, where is my Mildred? Ever since I saw you in August in your wet-weather gear, I was as smitten as a kitten. So won’t you let me be your Dave?

Oh Mildred, Mildred, where is my Mildred? Say yes to a date or three, as I’d really like to take you for tea. In the words of Mark Darcy to Bridget, ‘I like you just as you are.’

Mildred, I like you just as you are, however near or far. You’re my best friend, but for now I’ve reached the end. I’ll be your 'Davdred' to your 'Mildred', so let’s write our own story from the beginning.

The end (for real this time).

Until next time,

Mildred x 

Coming soon... The new and improved Mildred!

Dearest Friends and Relatives (perhaps that should be the other way round, but I think it sounds better that way... sorry Mum, Dad, brothers...),

My apologies to you all for my absence, but Mildred McManus is back in business- I am new and improved and back for your delectability!

Before I do or say anything, I have to wish you all a very happy, healthy and prosperous New Year. I hope that Christmas was wonderfully Christmassy and that you all had a stonkingly super time.

Tomorrow, I will explain all that has happened since I last wrote (but I'll try to keep it brief to prevent an essay like situation from arising!). I will admit, I do have a tendency to waffle.. a habit I am afraid to say I inherited from my mother, but please don't tell her I told you... shhh!

For now though, I am going to pop off, but I assure you I shall be returning with a vengeance very shortly! But before I go, I would like to share my New Year's resolutions with you in the hope that the sharing will be an incentive to ensure I follow them through:

1. To write my blog at least twice a week.
2. To learn something new every day.
3. To make other people around me happy.
4. To never eat stuffing again after experiencing Christmas-sage-and-onion-stuffing-overload. Never again...
5. Lastly... to floss every day in the hope that I won't need any fillings this year.

So, for now I'm going to love you and leave you.

Mildred x

PS I have a theory about this new year. Given that we seem to be experiencing rather miserable weather, I think that contrary to popular opinion, that that is a good sign. Surely, things can only ever get better? Surely D:Ream of Things Can Only Get Better 1994 fame were onto something when they made this prediction? I think they were and wish you all a happy 2012.

Introducing... Miss Mildred The Decorating- Builder

Hello everyone,

I am writing to you in the hope that you are well.

I am also writing to you with what I would describe as 'rather good news', as I have now found some employment.

Following my employing (as it were)- of Dave in Edinburgh, he has decided to return the favour and employ me. You see, by day, Dave is a builder/ renovator/ property maestro extraordinaire. By night, he is just Dave now. But he used to be my co-director and all round general assistant for Edinburgh.

Anyway, I am now in the employment of Dave at the house that he is renovating, in the capacity of 'decorating-builder'.

So far, I have clearance for the following (meaning I am now qualified in):

• electric drill usage
• regular drill usage
• hammer usage (despite missing the nail four times in a row and denting the wall...)
• electric sandpaper-tool-thingy (despite accidentally sanding myself...)
• the art of the paint brush
• the art of the roller
• ladder climbing (despite knocking the paint pot off with my foot on my descent. Luckily the lid was on. Dave does not know... Dave doesn't need to know... sshhhh!)
• filling holes with filler
• various other cool sounding things... but unfortunately I have forgotten what they are. What I can remember though, is that the insurance didn't cover me for saw usage. And to be honest, that's a bit of a relief as I'm really quite fond of all ten of my fingers.

To my general surprise, I am actually quite enjoying working on 'the site'- as 'the lads' call it, because there are no other women around. I left today, covered in dust and looking as though I'd aged forty years in an afternoon. But I don't mind. It's like dressing up! Except, not quite as clean. Although, I find it extraordinary how one minute I can look so old and grey and withered, and the next- with a little bit of nature's assistance- their finest water no less, I can wash away the grey and voila! Twenty-something Mildred is back in an instant. If only life were that simple.

Anyway, I'm going to go and wash the dust, spiders and goodness only knows what else out of my hair. Hopefully, next time I write to you I'll still have the correct amount of fingers and thumbs. But for now, my digits and I bid you farewell.

Welcome back to sunny ol' England...

Hello there friends,

Just a quick blog today I'm afraid! I hope that you are all well and staying warm in this ridiculously unprecedented monsoon that we are experiencing. To be honest, it wasn't a particularly nice 'welcome home to England' present- not after all the glorious sunshine over in Bulgaria.

After touching down at the airport, Mum came to meet me. We chit-chatted and caught up. You know, she filled me in on all the gossip that was happening back home. For instance. Did you know that Valerie, who lives three doors down from us, managed to jump the queue for knee replacement surgery? No? I didn't either. Apparantly she flashed the surgoen some ankle without being requested to and at that point- he became anybodies. Unable to act on his ankle attraction because of professional purposes, the surgeon decided to pop Valerie to the top of the list. Talk about a bit of juicy gossip! I mean, what else could I have possibly missed?

Anyway, I asked Mum if she could see my tan. After much deliberation, she smiled at me and gently patted my arm as she declared that I 'looked well'.

I took that to mean no, she could not see my tan. But in fairness, it is fairly hard to make out... But Mum could have done the honorable thing and LIED! I wouldn't have minded.

But all in all, I had a rather lovely time in Bulgaria. And, I even got to sample the elusive Shopska salad and Bob soup! Both- you will be pleased to know, were rather yummy.

I did loads of different things including venturing into the mountains, attempting to speak Bulgarian very badly (and often failing miserably), swim in the jelly fish infested sea, swim in the hotel pool and read the entire autobiography of Julie Andrews from start to finish. What a truly exemplary lady she is! I now feel inspired to find a copy of Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music and watch them from start to finish more than once. (Recently I have already watched The Princess Diaries 1 and 2 and Shrek- all of which Julie stars in as a Queen, but I probably shouldn't let you know that I know this because they are- technically speaking, films for the younger generation. Know how I know that? Because they are all PG and U ratings...).

Anyway, I must fly (metaphorically). I hope to be in touch again soon.

With bestest wishes,
Mildred