My Uncle Michael

Back home. Dem'shire spek.



Pangs of homesickness!

Ooh I Do Love A Good Wedding...

Anything to get the monkey walk recorded in history!



Confetti chucking...


Chuz and Rhona. The next ones to get married. I've told them. They have to you see, I introduced them too. I think he really loves her. You can tell by his face eh?



Ali and I. My saviour and bed chamber mate. Cups of tea back at ours at two in the morning.

Wedding Belles

Part of my trip home was to attend the wedding of my gorgeous friends Jim and Kirsty. I simply had to see them get married as I was the one responsible for introducing them.

I am, in fact, Cilla. With smaller teeth. But with a singing style not dissimilar to the warbly one!

Kirsty had asked me to be part of the wedding by doing a reading during the service. The thought scared the hell out of me. However, after swigging pimms and lemonade from a orange flowery hipflask outside the church the thought of reading in front of an audience of thousands terrified me to the point of nausea.

My terrifically high stilettos now slipped around my heels as I perspired with nerves. As I walked to the front of the church clutching my ragged piece of paper my heels dragged across the flagstones like a ten year old playing dress up in her mums lady shoes.

I took my place at the front of the church and I started to read the piece entitled 'A Good Wedding Cake'. The reading is based on a recipe for wedded bliss. It therefore calls for 1lb of good looks....that is when the nerves took over and in a desperate bid to catch my breath and calm myself, I found myself pausing and then... winking at the groom!

I. Winked. At. The Groom.

Oh the horror. God should have struck me down right there and then.

Everyone thankfully laughed (probably at the look of shock on my face more than anything) and I was able to skulk back to my seat and skull the rest of my pimms with Ali!


Ali, Kirsty and the Public Speaking Idiot.

The Madness Of Diet Pills

Bovisand beach, Plymouth

The biggest memory of this place is the Christmas when Paul Cooke and I ran down to the beach after my dear mama gave me one of her diet pills as it 'makes you all hyper-active'.

She hadn't realised that the pills had a form of speed in them.

Paul and I had!

Cue much running around the beach playing princess barbies.

The Legend Of Nic, Nat And A Little Scrumpy

( Charles Church Roundabout in front of the new shopping precinct)

And so a little history lesson....

Charles Church roundabout. All I ever knew about this church was that it was the bombed out church left as a memorial to the devastation of World War II. Nicola Holdgate and I used to drink White Lightning Cider out of a can with a straw (the bubbles go straight to your head that way!) when we were seventeen.

I didn't know that whilst Nicky and I were giggling over who was the most 'tipsy' from our solitary can of scrumpy we were languishing in the second oldest church of Plymouth. And when we were scaring ourselves silly at the eerie shadows on the churches ruined walls we hadn't known that this church had come into being because of the anti-royalist feeling amongst Plymouthian puritans at the time. This church has become historic for the fight between King Charles' royalists and the puritans of the day who fought for democracy.

If we had known this, would we still have sneaked into the church grounds after dark, clutching our cider and straws wearing our hippy/goth clothes?

Probably but we would have had the decency to sing loud renditions of Seth Lakemans 1643 whilst we were drinking!

A Pole In Love

Last night saw Sparkle, Mookie and myself meeting up for a dignified one drink!

So you all know how that turned out?

...a conveyor belt of beers finishing with a man falling for me in an instant



Him: (heavily accented) You are the very lovely, no?

Me: Where are you from?

Him: Poland. You know, yes?

Me: Gen dobre. Pienke kolono!

Him: (puzzled) Erm, hello, and beautiful knees?

Me: Yes, you have beautiful knees.

Him: ?

Me: In Polish?

Him: (swoon)


I was hoping he was Dutch though. I would have rather liked serenading him with a "May I borrow you garage?"

Back To The Land Of Clotted Cream And Seagulls

I'm coming home!

Tomorrow I fly to t'other side of the world to nestle in the bosom of my home country.

England, I salute you for two weeks and three days....

...After that you can just go bugger off again! Have you not heard I have a sexier homestead now?

But I'm desperate to see:


My mama Sparkle.





Pasties...



Cornwall...



And Simon Amstell...



What more is there to life in good ole Engerland?

Wish me luck on the flight of the under-stair-cupboard proportions!