I have been enjoying the  blandishments of a young admirer recently.  He  has  spent a few days with us  Chez MissMish  and I have been wallowing in the attention. It really was a little embarrassing at times but oh so good for the ego. He insisted on sitting next to me at all times.  His chair had to be next to mine at the dinner table. Breakfast could not start until I was there.  He insisted on helping me with the dinner preparations (although  possibly more to  have a taste  from the saucepans) Big Ron  was shooed away  so my beloved could  get near to me and I was the one  chosen  to show him the delights of the town and tram system.

 Of course I was a little shocked  when, insistent that I get out of bed, he came into my boudoir and crawled underneath the duvet to surprise me. And I must admit to a moment of jealousy when  Debs came round and he briefly became enamoured  by her charms  (she’s younger and thinner – don’t they always fall for that?) but he soon came back to my arms.fficeffice" />

 And now I know he loves me. I first believed him to be simply enamoured.   Charmed by my dress and  persona, captivated by the bright flurry of colour in his otherwise staid and respectable world. Like seeing a humming bird in a wheat field – something beyond reason and utterly untouchable.. I  ignored his  protestations of love until  proof came to me. But now I know I  mean such a lot  to him.  This is The Real Thing for him – and me too.

 You see, he gave me his car.

He insisted that I  take it and keep it for myself.  And I must admit it is rather lovely.  A dark blue mini with all the chrome trim and only six months old.   It would have been churlish to refuse his generous offer, given with all the love his heart could hold. So I accepted.  But I suppose it really must  be given back. He’ll be missing it and possibly regretting  his proposal  now.  And honestly what am I going to do with it?

  So after his extended visit I am a little sad at losing him, a little down cast at the house being empty without him and tired from his constant quest for fun and activity. Three-year-old nephews are such the cutest things though…..

 The death has been announced of Ronnie Barker today.

 Obviously the only way to commemeorate his life and comic genius is to light four candles.....

 I've got a lot of gigs and nights out coming soon (Stranglers, Hugh Cornwell, Glen Tilbrook,  George Melly, Motorhead) and thought I would give you all a guide to good behaviour.

Mosh Pit Survival  & Etiquette – A Ladies Guide.

(For when your Walker/Minder is not available)

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1.  If you can't get right to the front and the barriers (great view but you're  pretty much immobile and jammed up against them all night sometimes), worm your way to right behind the front row.  Not being well endowed in the height department, I find that large gentleman at say, Motorhead gigs,   are perfectly  happy  to let you slide in front of them if you give them a smile – they  know they’ll be able to  see over you. 

2.Then find the biggest, heaviest guy on the front row and when the crowd start moving, hang on to him  for dear life.*  He's going to be almost immovable because of his bulk and as everyone is all over  each other  anyway at the front he'll hardly notice one more hanger-on. If he does notice, keep flashing a smile and  mouthing 'sorry' at him and he'll shrug it off, move away or even  motion you to get in front of him to gallantly protect you from the crowd.  

3. If possible, make sure you go for shaven headed  instead of longhaired. In the frenzy,  you’re going to have HIS  crowning glory  tossed around  your face  as well as your own and it won’t be  nice. And also he’s going to get quite annoyed if you grab on to his hair and pull it in an  effort to keep your place  or balance.

4. You are NOT to dig your elbows  in simply to get to the front.  Very bad manners and you should be ashamed. However it IS permissible to stand with arms and elbows akimbo  to stop someone getting in front of you.

5. Now  a word about heels.  If you are wearing them, make sure you can stand and balance  on them for a good few hours  (As a heel wearer for  30 years or so  I’m fairly  proficient in this) other wise you look ridiculous complaining about your feet hurting  halfway through a gig. And not to mention  that if you can’t balance and keep falling off them it’s a tad dangerous in the Mosh.

6.  If  your boots are of the  high-heel leather thigh boot variety, (de rigeur for rock gigs I believe) then be prepared for the odd licentious look from Gentleman of A Certain Age.  I’ve no idea why they get all funny about them but they do. (Perhaps some kind gentleman could explain that here?)  You can use this to your advantage  i.e.  flashing a  smile, giving them a wink or blowing them a kiss and then slipping  in front of them, but remember that you can’t then turn round and complain about sexist treatment.

7.   Gropers in the Mosh are an everyday evil. Once or twice it’s fine and you should ignore it. After all, can you be sure that you didn’t ‘accidentally’ grab hold of a gorgeous young man in a crowd surge? But a steady and  repeated campaign of gropings,  holding your behind or arm round the shoulder sliding towards the breasts is to be sorted.  Be firm.   Grab hold of the errant hand and bend the fingers back.  If you can be sure  of whom it is, then use the heels on the toes.   At the very least you should  turn, stare and yell ‘Stop it’.   If it still continues, then smack him repeatedly on the nose, (and not  a bitch slap, use a fist). When security comes to sort it out, make sure that you are found distressed and in tears, NOT triumphantly  beating a  sad character into the ground with a stiletto.

8. And finally, if you’re dressed in Rock Chick mode then Gentlemen will look. And you should let them.  Frankly darlings, if you’ve got your bosoms hiked up  to your ears by a wonder bra, are wearing a tight black T shirt and a mini-skirt then it’s simply churlish to complain. However, if they are being too obtrusive I find the best way to frighten them off is to wink and play along with them and then say: "Have you seen the Crying Game?"   which,  when the penny drops, will make them scarper fairly quickly.  Which leads  into my  tiny bit of advice for the Gentlemen…….. 

9.   We really don’t mind you looking. In fact we expect you to look. And if we’re dressed like that we can probably cope with the comments.  But if you’re going to look, then look.  Don’t leer or try and  grab a glance when  you think we can't see.  It makes  you look furtive and creepy and we’ll edge away from you because you look weird. It is also perfectly acceptable to say ‘You look great!’  or ‘Great boots!’ and who knows?  You may start up a conversation and get lucky. However, ‘Nice tits!’ just makes you seem the kind of guy who has not had sex for a long time – for good reason – and is  now fixating on one particular attribute. You are not going to get anywhere with a comment like that.

Here endeth the first lesson.

* Now in these  circumstances it is perfectly acceptable, etiquette wise, not to wait to be  formally introduced but merely to hang on for  all you're worth at the first sway of the crowd. However, if you simply can't bring yourself to behave in such a cavalier manner, ask someone  near by to  introduce you to each other or  arrive early to mingle and socialise,  exchanging cards with those you think suitable.

Well it’s been such a busy week here what with having all my insides out and a new set of windows put in.fficeffice" />

 Yes, I know it’s an old joke but why should The Husband always have the benefit of them?

  I’ll start again.

It’s been such a busy week here.  The Husband’s penance – in the form of new windows for the house -  have been installed and that entailed such a lot of moving things about and arranging for keys and  house sitters and the like.  Big Ron assumes that the nice new wide windowsills – draught free! – have been installed  for his benefit only . He has been perching upon them and looking out of the windows to check that the view is much the same. He’s suspicious like that. The hilarity comes when he does his usual run and jump to get upon them. PVC window sills are smooth and shiny and  offer little in the form of traction,  so the first few times Big Ron has slid right off the other end of them, attempting a grab for the curtains en route and failing miserably. Oh how we laughed. He’s now  little more careful with them and   checks carefully, placing one paw upon them for  grip before  chancing his entire weight.  So that’s a pastime that has quickly palled.

 Then there was the visit to see my surgeon and the pre-op assessment. I have finally got the medical establishment to understand that cysts and lumps upon one’s ovaries are Not A Good Thing and they are being whipped out next week. There are also some unexplained things that probably shouldn’t be there too,  so basically I’m having a little man in with his complete set of tools to make good. The chance for a bit of liposuction and a nip and tuck (well, while they’re down there as the saying goes…) has been broached but  was sadly put aside.  Which I think is rather unfair. I mean it won’t exactly  be too hard to tuck it all in on the inside and do a double row of blanket-stitching will it? But evidently, yes it will. So I sulked. This, along with having to turn up at the ungodly hour of  7am,*1 sans breakfast and tea, sans makeup, sans even  nail polish on my  toes  means that I will be there sans good humour.  The Husband has strict instructions to be there at my  bedside when I awake with a pot of Earl Grey and I’m also thinking of  enlisting Bear to  be there with the makeup kit so  I shall awake  in my usual beauteous state.

 So darlings, this  will probably be my last post for a while*2 Hospital and then recovery. Which I hope will  consist of me lying on the sofa with attendant gentlemen attendant upon me. You may send flowers as I’m not entirely sure they do cards with “Congratulations! You’ve Got A Brand New Cervix!”, “Happy New Ovaries To You!”

 Or even “You’ve Been on ‘Changing Wombs’ Well Done!”

*1 And I’m not sure my usual habit of turning up a fashionable  40 minutes late with entourage and a bottle of bubbly will go down well….

*2  And  unlike previous times, I'm not coming back with a set of photographs and a souvenier either.