Oh dear, I'm Mr Rusty

Good Lord what happened there?

One minute the sun was out, the new peg bag was in full operation and there was everything to live for. The next thing I know it's three months later and I've fallen off the bloggercoaster. A right poor show and that's a fact so apologies all round.

Previously at Bird Towers, I was still recovering from my ordeal at Luton Airport where the lure of a cheap flight to Germany has resulted in me going on holiday with the cast of Shameless. Yikes. Actually, I'm blaming the whole escapade for my eversoquietness over the rest of the summer. I think it was the trauma of being stuck on an aeroplane with a stewardess called Chelsea who was the airline equivalent of Stacey out of X Factor. Her complete bewilderment at how to put on a life vest didn't bode well for a potential emergency. I found that quite offputting, especially as the plane was making very odd noises as if it wanted to go to the toilet.

Speaking of which, there was at least the memorable moment when Chelsea announced over the tannoy that as someone hadn't wanted ketchup there was a spare sachet going if anyone who'd ordered the hamburger was still well enough to want one. Strangely, nobody did, mainly because they all looked too ill to press the 'yes please' button.

I really wish I'd made that last bit up. Believe me I haven't.

The whole experience was summed up when I realised I'd left a book on the plane on the way home. As I'd 'safely' put a Christening card inside it which said I'd renounced the devil and would help my new god daughter be a lovely person I really wanted to find it. I phoned the airline's Lost Property Lady to see if they had it and, after she'd stopped laughing, the lady explained that my book would almost certainly have been thrown away.

"You see, " she said - not unkindly. "Books are rubbish."

Good to be clear there. Put that in your pipe Charles Dickens.

Since then - and of course after a couple of weeks in a dark room - I've been working (boo!), gone on a diet (double boo!) and was forced into some emergency weeding in the garden (total boo plus chiz!). Not much to show for the whole summer I admit. The diet at least, has gone OK, but with the embarrassing side effect of me randomly shouting "Good God, four pounds for a punnet of blueberries - have you all gone insane?" in the middle of Sainsburys. If my Premium Bonds come up before Christmas I'm going to spend the winnings on a bag of fruit from Waitrose.

So anyway, major apologies for the lull from here and it's jolly good to be back. With a full run of reality TV planned for the rest of the year I'm not going to leave the house until January.

And if I manage the next few weeks without mentioning 'Jedward' I'll be absolutely astonished.

Doh! I've blown it already!

I've started so I'll finish

Ah now, this is a lovely thing what I was tagged in by the fabulous That Girl over at Forty Not Out. That Girl is jolly fine fellow who makes me laugh. Plus she's scared of moths which makes my phobia about frogs look actually quite reasonable and virtually brave. Hurrah!

Anyway, despite still suffering from post traumatic stress over the whole Airport Adventure (see post below), here is my attempt to continue the meme even though I don't know what a meme is but I think it is blogspeak for something cool that the big girls do so I'm going to do it too.

Who is the hottest movie star?

Ooh now. Does telly count? Obviously not. Hmm. Not even a bit? You know, slightly?

Well if that's the case I can only make a pre-emptive strike here. Because surely, if anyone in Hollywood has half a brain it is only a matter of time before Guy of Gisborne is given his own movie franchise?

Nurse - the screens!

Apparently in real life he is actually someone who's not called Guy of Gisborne at all which I think is a detail worth ignoring. And as for them killing him off in Series 3. Well. Consider my licence fee under review.

Apart from your house and your car what is the most expensive item you've ever bought?

A horse box. Which is now handily for sale. I know - look how I've turned a perfectly lovely questionnaire into a marketing opportunity....what a pro.

Said horse box is very wonderful but as I've now decided I have to try to finish the book, I don't actually take the old neddy out much so it's a silliness. I am aiming to sell it and buy 17,000 cakes to get me through the next 60,000 words. I will then become the first ever human hippopotamus to seek publication. Excellent work.

What's your most treasured memory?
My Grandad. The kindest man ever.

What is the best gift you ever received as a child?

My doll's house. Sadly later to become the best ever gift I ever received as a child that my mum gave away to the deaf cubs for their raffle. Imagine my surprise when someone tried to sell me a ticket to win my own house. I was in more than a fury I can tell you. I'm not even deaf.

What's the biggest mistake you've ever made?

I'm not sure telling Lee Hurst one of his own jokes was the cleverest thing ever. He laughed for about an hour and I had to go and stand outside because I thought I might be sick with embarrassment.

Four words to describe yourself.
Hearty. Comforting. Working stock. Oh good - I'm a soup.

What was your highlight or lowlight of 2008?

Being taken into the Prada shop in Venice by the BF and told I could have anything I wanted. He couldn't understand why I was virtually in tears of excitement bless him and then, being a practical fellow, very nearly gave me a heart attack by energetically testing all the zips on the handbags as if he was trying out rucksacks in Millets.

Endearing but half the staff had a seizure.

BF is now ex-BF (I know - no more bags - swizz!) but the bag remains mine - safely in its bag, inside a bag, inside another bag. Another thing that left the boy most bewildered and, being a manly type of chap, not unkindly trying to figure out why on earth you would buy a bag that comes in its own bag?

Favourite film?
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I want that car. And I want to marry someone with the surname Scrumptious.

Tell me one thing I don't know about you.

I own some toilet paper from The White House. (Unused).

If you were a comic book/strip or cartoon character who would you be?

I'd say The Snork Maiden of course but we all know she is real so doesn't count.

Phew - still with me? Hope so.

Thanks again to That Girl and now I'd like to send this on to the following for their delectation and answers because they are all top fellows who I think will have super answers we'll enjoy.

The Johnson Diaries

Spiral Skies

A Quiet Sit Down

This Is Stoke Newington

Spread the joy!

An Easy Way to Travel: Part 1

Low cost flying. Joyous isn't it?

Now call me a snoot bag but there's something about Luton airport at 4.30 on a Friday morning that makes me want to live in a palace and throw poo at the little people.

I'm alright now though it's taken me fully two weeks to recover and a certain amount of governmental 'talking down' from what felt like an international kidnapping attempt. My fault for not wanting to mortgage the house in order to park the car at Heathrow.

I have to say that my arrival at Luton (aka Borstal Airport) was notable for the fact it immediately gave a real old boost to the demographic profile of the place. I'm not blowing my own trumpet on this one - on struggling through the revolving doors there was a short blast on a kazoo and the local Mayor rushed over shouting 'Quick lads, we've got a posh one' and handed me a commemorative sash. It's not every day you walk through an airport with 'ABC1' written on your front but apparently I was the 25th person to visit since it opened who has worked anywhere other than MacDonalds so everyone was thrilled.

This lovely gesture was of course slightly spoilt when the Mayor realised someone had half inched his ceremonial chain of office but other than that it was rather nice. (It was later found in one of the toilets where someone had left it on account of it clearly wasn't fake so they weren't quite sure what do to with it).

Anyway, I checked in which went ok as everyone else had decided to go to sleep on the floor (nice) so I whipped on through and felt confident my luggage would soon be winging it's way to Hamburg. Naturally I was going to Dortmund but having travelled with this airline before, I didn't want to be too optimistic.

Sitting down for something out of a microwave (don't ask what - I'm not actually sure it was food) I noticed a cheerful hen party walk past. Lovely girls, all about seventeen and wearing vest tops they'd made a smashing effort to personalise. Each person had an encouraging phrase and their name printed on the back which was super. Who says our young people don't make an effort? I thought I'd seen the best one which had 'Ride me Ryan' written on it but I hadn't noticed her friend - the clear winner in terms of clarity of message - who was a personable girl apparently called 'Cum on me Connor'.

I swear to you I am not making this up.

At this stage I wasn't entirely sure I'd make it onto the plane without getting mugged but there we were. I finished my egg and cheese muffin which I'd insanely assumed would involve toasting at some stage (what was I thinking?) and pottered off to the departure area.

Did you know that the initials SB stand for Speedy Boarding? This means that for an extra six pounds, you get a 5 second head start on the rest of the passengers lined up for the hundred metres dash across the runway to the plane. NB: I don't think they actually stop other planes moving while you do it. Of course before you get to this point you have to stand for an hour next to the people in the queue called SA which probably sounds perfectly acceptable. What they don't tell you though is that SA stands for All The Loudest, Shoutiest Children In The World Ever. Who would have thought eh? I was particularly lucky as next to me was a little girl blessed with the ability to have hysterics in English AND German. How proud her parents clearly were as they did absolutely nothing to make the little darling stop screaming. Even though I did my grumpiest, scariest, cross face ever when her mum wasn't looking, I am not kidding when I tell you I was mocked by a three year old.

Quite a low moment actually.

Anyway, six pounds to be 'SB' is six pounds jolly well spent....if you're Linford Christie. If, like me, you're not that quick on your feet, you might as well save your money and use it for a bottle of Arnica at the other end. You'll need it for the bruising.

My goodness, people without numbered seating are fierce aren't they? No wonder we won the War. I swear to God I was overtaken by a woman dressed as Boudica trying to get to a window seat while carrying a suitcase containing a Sperm Whale. Hand luggage constraints? What hand luggage constraints?

Anyway, all was well that ended well. Another eight hours flew by as everyone swiftly got themselves on board and as I sobbed quietly at my terrible mistake, the aeroplane was ready to leave.

Things did not get any better and if the kindly nurses will let me play on the PC again I will tell of the journey itself. Until then my friends, if you are en route to the airport, my sympathies are with you.

I'm going to have my special medicine now.....

I've been learning stuff and everything

Good morning all. Another lull from Bird HQ here but a better excuse this time as I have been on A Properly Grown Up Writing Course. Steady!

A quick warning though: Please don't expect grammar and spellings and all sorts of business just because of the above. I for one am sure people like Ted Hughes didn't care about details as they were far too busy wearing Interesting Jumpers and Being Deep. Anyway as my literary inspiration comes mostly from N.Molesworth of St Custards I think we're fine. So there. Chiz.

Anyway, the course. What did I learn? Here goes:

1. Be faster off the mark to bagsy doing the crumble on your night to cook.

A schoolboy error I'm afraid. Having eyed up the list earlier I wasn't my usual panther-like self when it came to actually helping. Arriving confidently at the sink a bit late, imagine le culinary horreur when offered the 'don't worry it's easy' alternative of Spinach and Ricotta in Filo Pastry instead.

Yes. Filo Pastry.

'Easy? Are you sure?' I said.

'Yes,' said the nice lady running the course. 'Don't worry, the pastry comes from a packet.'

'Ah right,' I said. 'Do you mean that packet there containing the sheets of gossamer I am supposed to magic into a pie dish? Has Hogwarts opened a food shop?'

It was a fair enough query I feel.

So that went well then. An hour later the dish was 'perfected'. By which I mean manhandled into position with a Pritstick. No one saw though and only a couple of people were actually physically poorly so I filed that one under 'Triumph' and ran away.

2. Try not to steal a lovely best selling novelist's laptop at the end of the course.

Yes I know. Poor form.

Having cheerfully suggested giving two of my fellow pupils a lift to their trains, we had a little bit of a hiccup as we divvied up the luggage only to be left with a rogue laptop bag sitting on its own in the station car park.

'This must be yours.'

'No, I didn't bring one.'

'Oh. Yours then?'

'Not really, no.'

We all backed away as realisation dawned that we were a nanosecond away from probable litigation with Random House.

'That's not a good start to your literary career,' pointed out my new friends as they carefully edged backwards towards the train. Any train. Didn't matter where to. 'Safe journey,' they called, breaking into a fast gallop, 'See you soon.'

Cripes. I tell you, NEVER have I so carefully carried a bag than during the walk to the hotel to take it back to its owner. I've carried children with less concern on more than one occasion. 'Oh I've dropped little Timmy..... No matter, his mother has other children.' This though? Gulp.

Now, street crime isn't exactly rife in the artsy hamlets of Yorkshire but you can't be too careful and as such I think it perfectly reasonable for me to get the first punch in on the little old lady who looked in my direction as I went to cross the road. I would, however, like to take this opportunity to formally apologise and wish her all the best for a speedy recovery. Sorry about that.

3. Be careful what you read out loud in an isolated cottage on a moor to people who don't really know you.

And it had been going so well.

'What do you enjoy writing about?' someone asked kindly.

'Oh - you know - jolly things about stuff that is chipper.' I replied.

'That sounds nice. Well today's exercise is about getting into a lift with someone you're not fond of.'

That sounded fun. Having a lovely time I hoppity skipped back to my room with its lovely view and only a little bit of damp and decided to just glance at my work emails before starting the writing.

Big mistake. Ten minutes later The Muse Had Turned Bad.

'No one can help you,' I read to the group the next morning. 'And you're going to die.'

Oh.

I looked up from my paper, hopeful for some feedback, possibly critical encouragement. Funny really, no one made eye contact. One lady was a bit pale. Another one went to the toilet quite quickly - double locking the door which was odd.

'The email addresses we gave you,' said the tutors a bit later. 'You might find they don't work.'

Oh.

'Spinach filo anyone?' I asked keenly at lunchtime. 'There's some left over from dinner.'

Do you know people can be really picky about leftovers. And after I'd glued it and everything.

Apologies and huge thanks to everyone at Arvon for such a fab week. I made up the bit about the Pritstick I promise. xx

Papa's Got A Brand New Peg Bag

Cripes, I went all quiet.

There I was, quite enjoying this whole young people's blog world malarky and someone went and got in the way with the real one. Bumso eh?

Sorry I've been off the old radar. After the deep political insight of my last offering I know many people were left feeling palpable excitement at the brink of a New Dawn. Crack on Mr Brown, Ms H.Bird is in the House and bringing in proper policies - with crisps and everything.

And then I went and spoiled it all by saying something stupid like 'oh blimey, I'd better do a spot of work that I get paid for.'

I hate it when that happens, don't you? Don't worry, I'm sure it was just a blip and won't happen again for a while. Phew.

Naturally, since we last spoke, life here at Bird Towers has been packed with Glamorous Events and Free Stuff on a daily basis. Well, to be strictly accurate it hasn't but I think that's called poetic licence. (Not entirely sure that's how you spell 'licence' but we'll push on).

Anyway, as I was saying, absolutely LOADS has been happening so here is a list to bring you up to date. For Ease Of Use I have listed them in order of importance. Hang onto your hats as it's been very busy so there are over two things on the list:

1. I've got a peg bag.

I know - how brilliant is that? Very brilliant, that's what. It's pink and in the shape of a dress like it's for a dolly. It's got strawberries printed on it and it's on a coat hanger and if that isn't enough excitement for you, it holds over 5 pegs as well.

2. I've got a whirly washing line B&Q called An Airer.

Well, after the adrenalin rush brought on by the aforementioned Bag, I thought I'd go bonkers and get the washing line too in order to show the neighbours my pants on a more regular basis. It turns out it's called A Rotary Airer and you can even buy it an anorak for when it's down and it's raining. To be fair I thought that was going over the top a bit because we all get a bit down when it's raining and not everyone always feels better just because they have an anorak so I thought it probably wasn't worth it.

3. I had some proper grown up photos taken.

In a studio with lights and a man who wore socks and no shoes and I don't know what else.

'Hi I'm Pete,' said the nice man with a camera.

'Hello. Should I just call you Bailey?' I said politely, having Read About Photographers.

'Er no, not really,' he offered. 'That's not my name.'

Surly wasn't he?

I took 2 suit jackets and some jumpers with me and weirdly almost all of them made me look fat which just goes to show cameras DO add four stone to you just as Kerry Katona has said in Reveal. As I am also a keen follower of Miss Katona's Iceland Diet which consists of multiple sausage rolls and frozen puddings made from mattresses I think this could also have been a factor.

No irrefutable evidence though on that point so I stocked up on cheese balls at the weekend as usual. They're virtually fruit.

So that's more than enough really. As you can tell I've been rushed off my feet.

I'm off now to pop in some washing. Next time I may tell you about The Day I Got The Linen Basket. Good eh?

What was that noise? Gosh - you mean ALL of you are going to be busy?

Brown Tries To Scare Off New Political Challenger by Smiling at It (see pic below)

Lawks - what a couple of weeks it has been!

Apologies for being off radar blogwise - I was slowed down by an outbreak of having to do some proper work (I know - ghastly) and - of course - having to devote all my other waking moments to watching a talent show on the telly.

Now of course the dust has settled, the work bit is under control and poor old Susan Boyle has been sent to The Priory. What a difference a fortnight makes.

Well, unless you're an MP of course in which case you're still fiddling about with your expenses rules and hoping you aren't the next one to be caught.

Gordon Brown I understand, has spoken to Simon Cowell (no, I've no idea why either), shown no interest in 200 people lost on a missing aeroplane until he found out some of them were British and still hasn't managed to stop our idiot MPs from spending all our money on birds nests. Or duck ponds. Or bees wax. Or something, I'm not exactly sure what but I do know it isn't helping the economy.

It does make you wonder doesn't it? Sorry young Gordon, but you will not be getting this week's I'm A VG Leader sticker. Calm down David C at the back - you'll get your turn soon enough. Oh - and be careful what you wish for sitting there looking so flipping pleased with yourself. This time next year Sunshine, you'll be wishing you'd taken drugs and gone off to Ibiza like the rest of your classmates.

I digress.

To be fair it's easy to mock when you haven't had a go yourself, so in a shock move earlier today I made An Insightful Comment on Twitter (a first) and announced that the pound has gone up against the dollar due to improvements in the global economy. Good eh? I was rather pleased with this as an entry into the political arena even though my point was that actually this is all very well but it was only at $1.30 when I was in America at Christmas and now I'm not any more I don't think that's fair.

Sadly no one replied or even raised an eyebrow at this example of gross economic mistreatment and global unfairness-ness.

Anyway, I was undeterred and frankly, rather inspired by the thought of a new Deep and Thoughtful Me so I tweeted again and suggested that based on my new found Economic Interest I run for Prime Minister.

Again, not much (approximately zero) reaction.

Honestly, what's wrong with people? I could be an exemplary MP. I've never fiddled my expenses, haven't the first clue about filling in a claim form and only once stole Tipex from an office and that was to give to my friends who worked in Social Services and couldn't afford any of their own.

Moreover (see - I've got all the lingo), I don't really know much about leadership, would sack Margaret Beckett for that terrible hair and have only the most rudimentary grasp of the international arena. (Ie: Most people seem nice, I like the new bloke in America, I wish people would stop killing each other and, er, that's pretty much it really).

Now I'd call that a jolly good platform. Yes?

Anyway, I'm all for it and may give it a go this week what with all the election things going on on Thursday. It's supposed to be a nice day so my plan is to go and stand outside the voting station, give people lollies and ask them if they'd like to live in a place where people are happy and the hospitals don't all smell of wee.

I think it's a winner. I'm going to make Simon Cowell Chancellor, Stephen Fry Speaker and Sir Joanna Lumley in charge of everything else. Meanwhile I'll wear the nice shoes I've just got off eBay, travel around the world making friends with everybody and send all the greedy bankers to work down the salt mines. Just because I can.

Come on - surely you're with me?

Haven't got a running slogan yet but will be working on it pronto. Early suggestion of "Henrietta Bird's Giving Out Free Crisps If You Vote For Her" has been vetoed on account of so far I've got £4.90 in the campaign kitty and you can only get three tubes of Pringles for that so I'm on a bit of a budget.

'Budget'? Look at me I've already gone fiscal!

Anyway, vote for me. Seriously. I'm a better bet than that Esther Rantzen and I won't go doing anything funny with a carrot either.