21 Bum Salute!!!

My cycle is now every 21 days instead of 28. Trudi is the name I give my period.  The mood before Trudi arrives is unbearable. I cannot believe that Ben has not divorced me. I turn into a monster, hating everybody in my sight and I get quite a few "red mist" moments as well has being tearful and having a complete sense of humour failure. I apologise now to anyone who stands in my way on a day like this. In future, please give a wide berth!

A friend of mine is due to go into hospital for a perimenopausal procedure. This is something to do with the shedding of the lining of the womb.  We had the conversation about her needing to buy a new dressing gown so that her modesty is protected in a mixed ward. This reminded me of when I was 19 and had my tonsils out. My dressing gown barely covered my arse and I had no slippers.  I got a proper telling off from my nurses. My friend is a right milf and was insisting on getting a new gown that covered her backside, but would still fall a fair bit above the knee. I reckon some old man will get the shock of his life and have a heart attack at the excitement of seeing her lovely pins!!

Oh to be 21!  As I celebrate 10 years of marriage this year. Yes really, my little cutie of a bridesmaid will be turning 21.  I may get an invite to the party so I can dance with her Mum and we can try our best not to show her up in front of her cool friends.  At a previous party with her Mum, I was 8 months pregnant and the whole room was scared that my waters would break as we boogied on down to the Rowing Boat Dance. This did not happen, but if you looked closely enough you could see the baby's head. When I was 21 I  had spent the summer travelling throughout Europe and had invited every hot man that I met along the way and most of them actually turned up!! I think I had about 30 girls at my party and 300 men, who did not look as foxy as I had remembered with my beer goggles on during my inter-rail adventures!

The Suicide Sanctuary

Oh God, why do I always blog when I have something to rant about!  Work is pants today – phone problems/IT problems – recruitment was such a joy when candidates would just pop into the office and you did not have to rely on modern technology! FML is the saying of the week in this office.

I started working when I was fifteen years old at a Tax Office (of all places) as a Clerical Assistant.  I would get the bus every day at the end of my road at 7.45am. I felt very safe and secure as the roads were busy and there was usually plenty of people around. One day, a man in a white van pulled up outside the bus stop. He reversed closer to where I stood, jumped into the back of the van, knocked on the window to get my attention then proceeded to toss himself off. I had never seen a penis before. All I remember was that it was purple. I was so embarrassed and turned the other way; he then turned his vehicle around and shook his willy at me having so much fun playing with himself as I nearly died of shock. I asked myself: Do I run home or will he catch me and rape me, kidnap me or kill me? Or do I just wait for the bus, which as usual was late. I decided that I should wait at the bus stop as it was on a main road and there were plenty of cars around that I could flag down if I needed to. I was so mortified. I never told my parents or any of my friends for a long time.  I feel guilty about this, as this man could have continued stalking young girls in this way. He may have taken things further. If this is the case, could I have prevented this? What about now – thirty years on – do I report this man? He was probably in his mid-twenties, had dark hair in that trendy wedge/DA hair cut that was fashionable in the mid-eighties.  I knew where he worked. It was a shop in town. (I daren’t say more at this stage).  I am on a Molesey Facebook page and other people have also mentioned a flasher from our home town.  Do I take action all these years on when so many mature “gentlemen” in the press, such as Jimmy Saville have been exposed as evil and twisted?  This world truly can be a sick place.  

I don’t watch Corrie at the moment as it is in the middle of trying to get Charlotte to settle down to bed in the middle of a ton of housework. I have heard the story of the death of Hayley Cropper. I once met the actress who played her, at apartments we stayed at in Devon for New Year.  I even found myself staring at her in the pool/Jacuzzi to see if she had a Willy! Doh! What a lovely, kind and sincere person and wonderful mother. She was very friendly and nothing like the character she played – in looks or personality.  Suicide and assisted suicide is such a delicate subject. I think it should be allowed without having to travel to Switzerland and die in an undignified way in a dingy flat.  One of my business ideas (with the help of friends) is to open “The Suicide Sanctuary” or “Gateway to Heaven” – this will offer counselling, prayers and support and be a beautiful spa, making the experience of death beautiful.