YIKES, I have done it, I am here, I think........... peeping out from behind the curtain, I thought I had better chuck in the drama queen analagy before my enemies find me, and haven't yet found smilies, but still looking, wink, wink, meanwhile will get a libel lawyer on standby.
I am missing me old mates, me old muckers, that gang of granny thugs, who used the aol message boards to knock seven bells out of their equally decrepid YGL room mates with their zimmer frames especially on a Friday night, when the gin bottles came out with a vengeance and sure as eggs is eggs, you could always guarantee it would end in a punch up.
For nearly 5 years we met up constantly, regularly, to the point of obsession and in need of psychiatric help. Some might be relieved to know that when I confessed that particular addiction to my own shrink, he said, not to worry at all, it is the 21st century equivilent of chatting over the garden fence. But back to the Europe Board, that became the Penny pickers, or something like that - an especially hilarious time when we could insult each other with accompanying graphics - lots of fairies and pigs! The Penny Pickers became the YGL, as we declared an amnesty in our search for a new home in which to abuse each other. All pretence at never wanting to set eyes on each other again was put aside, as memories of Selectedsgate flooded back, to all our shame. I think I used the feck a lot.
Really hit home how much I missed you lot this week, especially with the loss of the legend that was Davy Jones. Only another menopausal old bird of whatever class, faith or creed, will understand the sheer grief of his passing. He put the first twinkle in my pre pubescent eyes, he made me see boys in an entirely different life. Up until then, I had always viewed them as dirty, smelly creatures to outwit if I couldn't outfight. It was like an awakening, an epiphe, Davy Jones was a God! OK, a bit over the top, but I used to run home from school to watch the Monkeys! RIP Davy, you made us all Daydream Believers............
But back to our board, I am sure we would all have grieved together, and shared our fond memories........... ahh, but we always managed to unite for the important things. Annie would be making plates of sarnies and vol-au-vents, to pass around at our impromtu Davy Wake, Bree would have a big auld stew on the hob, and Pauline would be asking us to take orf our shoes, in case we damage the real wood flooring. I would place me Doc Martins next to Mandy's (fake) Jimmy Choos, and we would start the evening calling each other dahlink, sweetie, and luv, before moving onto biatch, slut, and similar terms of endearment as the evening progressed, ahhh, those were the days.
Some might be hearted to know I have finally had my hair done. It became essential, I was starting to look like one of those loonies you always hope won't sit next to you on the bus. My son said, I looked like an escapee from a dementia unit. He's very blunt. I have had it cut with a full head of highlights, Should explain that I had to go from dark to blonde here, and it was a problem shared. I sort of look semi-human now, which is a relief to many. I took some time out to become hemit for a while. Of course I didn't have the requisite cave (sadly), but this society's equivilent, I got old and became invisible. I go to the shops without makeup, I dress for comfort, not style. I feel that if my photo became public I would be used as an example. That's what 40 years of booze, drugs and a disproportionate love of profiterols does to ya. I wanted to look like Jane Fonda, but I look more like Anne Widdicombe. Its not the look I was going for at all. I tell myself I have that 'I think I am really ugly' phobia thingy, but I am afraid that if I tell that to my shrink, he will say, 'nope, its not a phobia, don't go out until it gets dark, and wear a headscarf'.
But this blog is not all about me me, ha ha, I'm looking for me old sparring partners....... sally, or should I say Dr. Evil, put the cat down for a mo, Prn, I miss ya! Listening to your views kept me hanging onto the wobbly and wide road, as opposed to the straight and narrow. Annie, get out the wink, wink, teapot.