Middle of the Night

Why is it that when I can't sleep in the dead of night I write wonderful, deeply interesting blogs in my mind, yet when I wake up next morning all memory of them has gone? Is this just another sign of old age - or grumpiness?

I think it would be a good idea to take a notebook and pen to bed with me as I'm awake for hours listening to HH and their buddies doing what they want and bugger everyone else. By the way HH or H-effin-H as I call them are one of the main causes of my grumpiness.

I have heard rumours that H-effin-H are leaving for good and that we're going to have a wonderful supermarket [Asda] in it's place, after looking at the area on Google Earth I realise that if the rumours are true then we'll be living in the middle of a car park instead of a scrap yard [lovely] ... unless one of the other rumours is true that we're going to be demolished too. I've been asking my friends and relations if they've got a spare room in case we are homeless, so far we've been offered a tent at the bottom of a garden and that WASN'T even an offer from my favourite sister [a grumpy neophyte] she just bandied words about like 'skip', whether she meant for me or my possessions is a matter I'm not clear on.

Oh heck, that's a thought, just how much crap this grumpy old woman has managed to amass, I was ok with my small hoard of rubbish until I moved in with my 'grumpy old man', he's got more stuff squirrelled away [NOT MONEY!!] than me.

I'll just give one example of things he collects as a retired electrician - He'd nipped out for some milk and when he came back he was so excited he was practically twirling on the spot.
"OK, what's up?" I ask.
'The cafe round the corner has closed and it's being refurbished"
"And??"
"Well they're chucking light fittings out and I can have them, I'm going back to fetch them now"

He came back with said fittings - for fluorescent tubes - a type of lighting I hate and which I'd gradually managed to evict four of from our house after moving in [when I say evict I use the term loosely, they're in the attic].
"What do you want them for?"
"You can't throw them away, you never know when they'll come in handy"...

Oh, another one, he's got a box of castors, he used to help refurbish fruit machines and they took off the castor wheels, so he brought them home as they're 'really handy' to have. That was five years ago, he hasn't used one but it has become a grumpy joke, if he makes anything for anyone they're always asked if they want it with castors ...

Another Grumpy Day

I'm in a grumpy mood, I'm tired. I didn't get to sleep last night until gone midnight because of big diesel stacker trucks working in tin-pot, corrugated metal sheds that I have the dubious pleasure of living near, they woke me again at 5.53am. I can feel another irate phone call to environmental health coming on, but that's a waste of time, they give you a sheet of paper telling you to fill in a diary of what they're doing and what times they disturb you, my last one was full of swear words as I wrote it whilst being grumpy - I haven't heard back, I wonder why?

Being Grumpy - part 1

I've decided to start a grumpy blog as I know even more about being grumpy than I do about decoupage - my other completely riveting blog that no-one else is interested in.

I laid in bed this morning, thinking my normal grumpy thoughts, you know the kind of thing - 'I should really get up, but don't want to' or 'the garden needs tidying - nothing a decent landslide wouldn't fix, but I don't feel like it'. Then I thought "well I ought to write a blog about grumpiness, I have ALL the qualifications"

And indeed, this astonishing revelation spurred me to get out of bed and I arrived on my blogger dashboard where I proceeded to make a new blog. Imagine my annoyance to find that I couldn't use my chosen address of grumpyoldwoman, it took several attempts to get one I was nearly happy with. I need to find these other grumpy old women and read their blogs to see if they're as grumpy as me or whether it's just a half-hearted attempt at grumpiness.

Anyway, I've pulled a few weeds up so that's my gardening done for at least a month, I don't know why I bothered planting things really, they keep growing, I liked them when they were little, before they took over everything. It's not even a garden, just tubs and troughs on a concrete back yard: I was full of good ideas and intentions when I started gardening but I was only middle-aged then, I hadn't been practising grumpiness at that stage in my life.

I'm going to take the dog for a walk in a minute, this gives me plenty of scope for being grumpy; I can moan about dog-mess that hasn't been cleaned up, I can have a real grouse about the litter thrown, mostly beer cans just carelessly left by the under-age drinkers that think it's 'cool' to be drinking before they're legally allowed to.
It always amazes me that each generation grows up thinking that they're any different from the last one when in fact they're exactly the same but with an extra pinch of ignorance and bad manners thrown in.
Of course my generation was different, we were dead cool!

OK, so now I've checked a couple of grumpy old women blogs, one didn't write much - just said she was grumpy - fair enough. The other one I read and found myself nodding in agreement to some of her grumpiness although it doesn't look like she's been grumpy lately which is a shame.

I'm going to publish this post now, no-one will read it anyway so really it'll just be my 'Grumpy Diary' - I'm so glad I'm not using paper, with my moaning I could get through a small forest of trees ...