Naughty Letters to Ms. Mac

Lucy and Ramona

2011-02-21T21:11:00.005+01:00

I freaked out to see how old the Monkees have become in this photo in The Guardian today

Sadly my favourite, Mike Nesmith, will not be taking part in their reunion, but thanks to the magic of YouTube, I get to listen to one of the coolest pop videos from 1979:

Teeny Weeny Burpday Greetings to Ms. Mac!

2010-05-20T08:33:00.005+02:00

Dearest Soulie,

I was going to wish you especially HUGE, EXTRAVAGENT, VOLUMINOUS and IMPORTANT burpday greetings today, but then I remembered that it's only an itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny, completely insignificant number that we are celebrating.

I mean, come on! You're still only thirteen, right? Nothing to get excited about!

But you are extremely honoured to take receipt of this delicious, home-grown rose wot bloomed in my garden yesterday.

If you lean very close to your computer and inhale deeply, you will detect its powerful, aphrodisiac fragrance. CAREFUL - not THAT close! Now you've smudged the screen with your nose. You'll have to get the Putzfrau in to clean it up, while Mr Mac takes you on the town for pizza and a movie. Or beer and an ACDC concert. Or champagne and a thé dansant. Something appropriate to your age!

Muchos burpday besos to you!

love, Love, LOVE,

Antipo
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To Do List

2010-05-12T08:46:00.009+02:00

- Buy fabric rose to accessorize my Flapper headband for Charleston costume (dance recital only 1 month away).

- Finish altering figure-hugging, peacock-blue satin cheong-sam for dance recital.

- Buy and read Della Says OMG by the Lovely Keris Stainton, shower her with praise and stalk her until she deigns to meet me and impart her writerly wisdom.

- Wait feverishly for the postman to bring my bridesmaid's dress

from my personal dressmaker in Australia, so I can try it on and practice the complicated, yet sleekly elegant sash-tying technique.

- Clean out the putrid glob of old hairs & soap scum blocking the plughole in the bath because it's starting to stink...

Turning Forty-Five

2010-02-20T23:11:00.007+01:00

So my husband's grumbling 'cos he can't find a clean Tupperware to store the leftovers in and I'm all relaxed because "Man it's my birthday, who cares?" and after five (or six?) flutes of champagne, fuck I haven't been this drunk since 1989, we watched Aliens vs. Monsters with the kids and the rabbit peed on Pauline's pyjamas and I go into the kitchen laughing like a motherfucker to unload the dishwasher with one hand while sexting Ms. Mac with the other, but I keep pushing the SEND button too early (stupid phone is retarded obviously) and Stella has to hold her breath in between sexts to understand what the heck I'm talking about, and I make myself a coffee to try and sober up. Do NOT want to go to bed with so much alkyhall in the blood. Do NOT want to be hanged over tomorrow.

Kevin got the hiccups during the movie and Pauline was cross 'cos I kept shrieking with laughter and dropping my head onto her shoulder.

Shit now, with my eyelids at half-mast, I understand how people get drunk, take too many meds and fall down the stairs or into the fireplace!!! But I'm still sufficiently obsessed with good presentation to backtrack and correct my typos so y'all can read this.

So I check my email again to see if my brand new clients received the enormous, wonderful, skillfully-crafted and perfectly-formed translation I sent them tonight after three solid days of work. I am SO proud of myself. I worked SO HARD for the last week, wanting to impress them with my language skillz and show them how good my French is. My brain is fried and I understand why businessmen get drunk, sniff drugs and take a hooker for the night. Once I had pressed SEND on that contract, I had just one desire: to U.W.I.N.D baby. I haven't found any drugs to sniff or hookers yet, but I sure would like to.

And in spite of working from 7 am to 7 pm today, I had such a lovely burpday, with phone calls from Canada and New Zealand and Australia, and so many happy messages from around the world. I am a lucky, lucky girl!

THIS is why you don't hear from us anymore

2010-02-04T19:35:00.003+01:00

Her Majesty has a hurty knee!

Mine is here

but you have to email me first in a totally smarmy and sycophantic way to get permission.

This One's For Tat and Trac!

2009-12-12T20:41:00.000+01:00

Yes, I've had a couple of beers tonight...

Why I Hate Fridays

2009-11-13T12:57:00.010+01:00

Antipo [typing away, hard at work in her study]

Mr Grumpy Blackheart [still in pyjamas at 12:30]: Where's the rabbit?

Antipo [typing]: Under the bed in Popo's room.

Mr Grumpy Blackheart [still in pyjamas at 12:31]: I hope she's not doing poops or chewing the electric cables.

Antipo [typing]: Of course not, she is a pedigree, well brought up young lady, not like those rough rabbits from the housing estate.

Mr Grumpy Blackheart [still in pyjamas at 12:33]: You are supposed to be watching her when she's not in her cage.

Antipo [typing]: I'm working.

Mr Grumpy Blackheart [still in pyjamas at 12:35]: Well shut Popo's bedroom door so the rabbit can't go in there.

Antipo [STOPS typing]: I had all the bedroom doors shut yesterday so Fluffy would have to stay with me and you scolded me for not letting the warm air circulate, which makes the bedrooms cold and Popo might catch pneumonatic swine flu and tuberculosis and DIE and then I would be sorry!

Mr Grumpy Blackheart [still in pyjamas at 12:38]: But today it's warm and sunny so you can shut the bedroom doors.

Antipo [shouting, not typing]: GET OUT OF MY FACE! I'm WORKING!

Fuck You Mr Grumpy Blackheart!

2009-11-13T11:15:00.010+01:00

Thursday morning. Mr Grumpy Blackheart has a day's leave. I get up at 6:20 as I have done every day this year, to get son to the station on time for his train. I then take daughter to school at 8 am, briefly see Mr Grumpy Blackheart is up and getting his breakfast, and go jogging in the forest. When I arrive back at the house an hour later, I go into our bedroom and see he has gone back to bed. Oops! I close the door gently and tiptoe away, thinking I will have my shower later, as the bathroom is just next to our bedroom and I don’t want to make any noise.

My morning progresses satisfactorily: important writing, proofreading and emailing. I briefly visit Mr Blackheart in the basement where he is fixing the punctured tyre on his mountain bike, then get back to work in my study. At midday I hear Mr Blackheart making kitcheny noises, which means he is getting his lunch, but I don’t want to stop while I’m in the middle of a creative streak, so I keep working. At around two o’clock I succumb to hunger and skip downstairs in a good mood to get my lunch. I know Mr Blackheart often has an afternoon nap on weekends and holidays, but I foolishly assume that would not be the case today, as he has already spent the morning in bed. Wrong!

Later in the day he complains heavily that he couldn’t sleep this afternoon because of all the noise I made in the kitchen (microwave pinging, cupboard doors being opened and closed, my conversation with the rabbit). I sweetly tell him that if he would care to inform me when he is taking a nap I will be happy to sit noiselessy in a corner with my hands folded silently, but because he had a grasse matinée, I assumed he would not require further slumber today. I also inform him that I deliberately did not use the bathroom in the morning because I knew he was in bed, even though I am dying to take a shower. I cannot refrain from adding that some of us get up early, take care of children, do exercise, work, housework, and do not actually have time for lie-ins and afternoon naps. Some of us pretend to be young, bouncy and energetic, even if we are not, in order to avoid sliding into a state of lethargic depression.

Friday morning. Mr Grumpy Blackheart’s regular day off work (he works a four day week). He stays in bed until 11 am. I get the children out of the house by 8 am, go jogging, come home, have my shower, make my breakfast (ping! slam!) and talk loudly to Fluffy with lots of joyous exclamations.

Fuck you Mr Grumpy Blackheart!

I have a life!

(Note: He is now up at 11:20 and is vacuuming the lounge, even though I did it yesterday, because apparently I didn't use the correct attachment for rugs.)

The Joy of Bumsex

2009-11-09T14:47:00.002+01:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Can you explain to me the joy of anal sex for girls, because really, it's like doing a big poo in reverse, isn't it?

Oh how I long to be able to discuss sexual pratices and techniques with sophistication and elegance, like the grown ups do. But I cannot. Not without giggling and sniggering.

Do you remember that day when we exchanged our deepest, darkest intimate secrets, and I had to put a sofa cushion between our heads?

Yeah.

Love and stuff,
Antipo

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Do Men Know?

2009-11-08T13:41:00.001+01:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Do you think men know that sometimes, for example on a Sunday morning when you are looking foward to a long lie-in but the spouse has other ideas, and while he’s pumping away you are thinking ‘I must get the chicken breasts out early to finish thawing before lunch, and I will fry the courgettes and diced pumpkin in a separate pan from the chicken curry or else the little one won’t eat it, and I hope I’ve got enough apples to make a really big crumble to last for two days, and oh God I wish he’d hurry up because I need to get to the supermarket early to avoid the crowds and I don’t even want to go there but I urgently need to buy that magic correcting fluid to restore to whiteness my son’s chef’s uniform which I accidentally stained pink in the laundry yesterday because I so foolishly added to the wash that bright pink sheet (which I originally dyed fuschia to match Ms. Mac’s blog and so the Bloggers’ Pick-Knickers would find us easily in Paris four years ago), and he needs the uniform clean and ironed by 7 am tomorrow.’?

I bet they have no idea.

The Dress

2009-11-05T17:27:00.002+01:00

Fluff called me from Melbourne! Her wedding is 11 months away but she has already bought a dress and chosen a matching venue. The story of how she found the dress is so deliciously Fluff.

She intended to simply buy a beautiful frock, as it is her second marriage, she’s 43 and she supposed she would have a low-key wedding this time around. (Here I thought ‘But Fluff doesn’t know the meaning of low-key!’). Additionally, she wanted a dress she could wear again on future occasions. On a whim she and her daughter stopped in at a bridal boutique one day and tried on bridal gowns just for fun, with no serious retail intentions. However, the gowns all contained remarkable corsetry, intricate boning and structures that firmed her curves, plumped up her splendours, and felt simply divine.

Fluff had no intention of forking out hundreds of dollars on a made-to-measure gown, but decided she would have to buy a corset to wear under a pretty frock. However, the effect was not as shimmery and intoxicating. She was hooked, and began researching corsetry. Fluff is an extremely gifted seamstress and felt sure she could make her own corset and dress. Sadly the procedure proved, after hours of research and visiting corsetry suppliers, to be lengthy and costly, and frankly too much bother.

During the course of her research she came across a website specialising in RED wedding gowns. That sparked off a new longing in the sartorial hemisphere of Fluff’s lovely brain, the part that goes Ping! when it sees satin and shantung and lustrous reflets and she went back for another round of trying on bridal gowns in the boutiques.

One weekend, near her fiancé’s weekend cottage in a small town, she came across the perfect RED dress and bought it. The hardest thing is not being able to wear it for a whole year. The Dress is being stored at her mother’s house, safely out of temptation’s way.

She subsequently found a venue that will set off The Dress to its best advantage. Her choice of marriage celebrant will surely be sympathetic to The Dress. All that remains is to invite guests who will flatter The Dress.

And what of ‘a dress she could wear again on future occasions’? In true Fluff style, she will wear The Dress to dinners, picnics and PTA meetings, and she will bedazzle the bejesus out of everyone else!

Antipo Is a Bad Mother, Despite Her Best Intentions

2009-10-20T10:12:00.004+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I can never blog this, but I can tell you!

I bought myself a small whiteboard (felt pen, wipe clean thingie) for the kitchen, to act as a running total shopping list. The crotchfruit are always forgetting to write down what they need and then get cross with me when I don't buy their new school pens or whatever. So a certain young person not entirely unrelated to me, asked for a whiteboard too, for her room.

Of course I never intended to read it, as I naturally respect her privacy. However, this morning, an incident of a most peculiar and alarming nature occurred. The whiteboard actually jumped before my eyes and the words inscribed there flashed instantly onto my brain via the ocular nerve. Obviously such an event was entirely beyond my control...

The whiteboard contained the following list:

- Don't forget compass and calculator
- Wear skinny jeans, blue shirt, black vest and blue scarf to school
- Try to sit next to Sophie today
- Ask if her parents are divorced. Tell her that her new haircut REALLY suits her, is mega cool!!!
- Ask Papa to take me shopping at big new shopping mall.
- Discuss CHRISTMAS!!!!

We Slayed 'Em!

2009-09-26T21:19:00.001+02:00

Waiting for our curtain call

That skirt swirls like a dream!

This time I managed the handstand without slipping...

Bums!

Mine is the power and the glory!

CanCan Time Again

2009-09-26T09:08:00.005+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I'm so happy you blogged again that I wish I could spend the entire day in social intercourse with you. Alas, as you know, my life is infinitely busy and glamorous: today I must drag my sorry carcass down to the Village which is celebrating the 1900 Festival again.

I will be wearing that sumptuous black and red costume with the frilly skirt, the cleavage and the ankle boots and I will attempt to avoid extreme ridicule as I shake my dessicated old bones and perform the high kicks (or medium high kicks) alongside the young, bouncy dancers.

So, until next time, I bid you adieu and bestow you with much festive love and dusty saloon bar kisses,

Antipo

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Dispatch from The Village of the Damned

2009-09-25T11:11:00.003+02:00

Sweet Bunny Lover,

Yes, I got your sunny sext yest but was so green with envy I was unable to string a coherent sentence together to wish you the greatest joy while stroking your rabbit in the sun.

Nothing going on as yet. My showdown with my arch nemesis isn't until 4:30pm so think of me then as I sit biting my tongue until it bleeds. According to Fight Club you can swallow about three pints of your own blood before you vomit which should mean I manage to not puke by the end of the meeting. The overwhelming urge to scream, "Well he's got his apprenticeship now so shut the fuck up!" will be incredibly hard to overcome.

Hehe- Hard.

Your lovely clients will miss your sunny disposition dreadfully. Have you warned your dear, naive young replacement about the sniffer? And do you think Jesus will be sorry to see you go? How will he bear the loss of his crush?

My caramel slice was amazing and yet, still not perfect. I shall have to keep trying until it is fit to be sold at market. And then I won't sell it, I will eat it all alone when everyone is out at work/school. *evil cackles*

Muchos cute and furry besos (I grew a moustache just to compete with the bunny)

S
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Here Comes Trouble

2009-08-10T21:51:00.003+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I don't ever wish for your actual demise, as it would be a tragic loss to humankind, but if (and before) you do happen to cark it suddenly one day, please will you update your will immediately, in order to bequeath me your new, red strappy sandals? They would be somewhat of a consolation for in me in my terrible grief.

Thanks Lovey.

In other news, my new baby gave me a heart attack tonight by squeezing through an incredibly small hole to frolic in my neighbour's garden! Ungrateful little shite! Luckily I was watching her, otherwise I might never have seen her again. I was sure the whole fence was impenetrable but she can apparently flatten herself like a mouse. The little bugger will be confined to the cage until Mr Grumpy Blackheart has built a proper hutch/exercise pen.

He has gone out and bought the appropriate building materials already! I thought I was going to have to pout and nag for several weeks. Score!

This just in from our Rabbit News Desk

2009-08-07T11:04:00.001+02:00

Dearest Darling Ms. Mac,

As you may remember, I got rather drunk in Paris last week and heard voices instructing me to buy a brand new, astoundingly white and unutterably gorgeous baby rabbit. Yes, a live one, from an actual pet shop. I obeyed the voices, willingly handed over a vast sum of cold, hard cash and carefully carried my expensive new baby back home, looking a little like Madonna returning from Africa, only not as sinewy. Nor as blonde.

My daughter has christened the bunny Fluffy. I am allowed to call her Fluff though, as I am the Primary Caregiver. I don’t know what the real Fluffy Bunny will say about that!

Mr Grumpy Blackheart's face fell a mile when he walked in and saw the bundle of cuddly gorgeousness in Popo's arms. He sulked for many days, but will come round eventually. Indeed, he is taking photos of the ‘vile creature’ every five minutes to send to Popo on holiday, but his first reaction was "Who's going to look after it? What happens when we want to go on holiday? It had better not make any noise at night etc., etc."

Daughter was crestfallen, as the rabbit was supposed to be a present for Papa! Well she's all mine now. I'm going to build a proper outside hutch so she can have fresh air and grass all day during the summer. That is to say, the minute I start ham-fistedly banging together a few planks and a dollop of chicken wire, Mr Grumpy Blackheart will rush out and snatch the hammer from my feeble grasp, unable to stand by and watch a complete idiot make a hash of a simple carpentry job.

I am nothing if not cunning!

I utterly sympathise with you in your saltless plight. I too, would want to top myself, but we shall have to be practical and find some other grand dramatic gesture with which to express our misery.

Many, many unsalted quisses and much decaffeinated love,
Antipo

Thursday Correspondence from the desks of your Favourite Epistolary Greats

2009-07-02T15:05:00.006+02:00

Darls,

My phone cut out yesterday, ran out of juice. Oh well, you got the essential news! We pigged out massively at the sushi resto and again last night at our friend's bbq. I just wish I hadn't had a bacardi & coke before the red wine...

A bastarding mossie attacked me in the night and I'm trying to convince myself the bite on my cheekbone looks as sexy as a beauty spot....

Arrived late at work to find order forms from 2 new subscribers, which brings my June total to 8, a personal best. Oh the irony!!

I expect to spend all of August & September training young Seb C. (!!!) in my job, he's rather cute (but unbearded) and I wonder if he will scream "harrassment!" if my hand accidentally brushes his thigh every now and then.

Am pining for you dreadfully. Would you be able to receive me and one offspring graciously next week for 2 days, or in the second half of August? Let me know what suits you best. Obviously I will bring a suitcase full of dried strawberries. And I will make son practise his cooking!

Huge, proud besos,

Antipo xx

Darling, yes please come next week for 2 days. Or more. Or stay forever! My stinkin' boys will still have to be in school though which is a complete bugger.

I am completely wiped out today from my big swim yesterday. It was lovely though and obviously I didn't drown or get eaten by a monster fish or anything horrible like that so really, I declare it a complete success!

Bacardi and coke is a killer! There used to be some urban legend about the bubbles in the mixers giving you a hangover but I'm not sure how much stock I put in that. (Actually all of my stock which is why I only drink wine now.) (*is lying*)

I have two or three bastarding horse fly bites so I win.

Muchos besos my darling! Can't wait to see you soon!

S
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Yay for your gracious hostessness!

I am supposed to be looking after both my offspring next week, but will try and dump daughter at Mémée's, 'cos I don't want to bring her with me. She will only whinge and pout and flirt with your sons!! Why are Swiss kids still at school when everybody else in the entire universe is on summer hols?

Of course, you felt my vibes of concern about possible Loch Zurich monster attacks upon your person during your swim, didn't you ? I mean I didn't have to express my concerns verbally did I, because you are always tuned in to my thought waves and you could feel the worry and anxiety that consumed my every waking moment yesterday. Thank God you survived!

Will keep you posted as to dates & thread count requirements for my silk sheets.

Antipo

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My Cheatin' Heart

2009-07-02T15:00:00.000+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

As I am all busy and important making lots of money today (so that I can come and see you very soon), would you be so kind as to cut and paste all our recent emails into one startlingly witty and erudite blog post? I grant you full editorial discretion, naturally (although you know I will sneak in afterwards and correct your typos). Just remember that my writerly reputation and future career lie trembling in your gracious hands.

I know various readers are pining for news of our fabulous lives. However, I do have an ulterior motive.

I have been felled by a deep, deep crush on blogger and author Stan Cattermole and I am stalking him, Tweeting him and sending all kinds of abject, debasing fan letters in a desperate bid for a mere crumb of his attention.

So indulge me in my youthful phase of hero worship and cast your mind back to when YOU were the object of my ardour. Think how pleasant it would be for you to be the instrument in my future penfriendship with Stan. You will be so proud and honoured!

Muchos light-headed and sweaty-fingered besos,

Antipo
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Gawd, is it STILL Monday?

2009-06-08T17:21:00.003+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I have neglected you horribly, but it's all your fault for tempting me onto Twitter. Blogging and e-mailing now seem so unbearably ponderous and, well like work really, whereas tweeting is so light and effortless. And fun!

My eldest offspring had a wonderful time with the top chef at our cooking class in Paris on Saturday.

We created some OMG Fabulous Food! I should open my own restaurant now, I really should.

We made Asian-style horses' doovers of prawns and vegetables rolled up in rice paper (AMAZING!) and fish and potato saffron soup with garlic, croutons and rouille (MINDBLOWING), finished with tiny glasses of "deconstructed" tiramisu made by flinging caramelised strawberries as the bottom layer, followed by coffee-soaked ladyfingers, the mascarpone, cream & sugar mixture piped out of a siphon (!!) on top of that, and then decorated with more caramelised strawbs and a little orange Cape gooseberry (which the French call Love in a Cage, awwwww). The Chef served a very oaky French Chardonnay with it, which was perfectly divine.

I reeked garlic all the way home.

The portions all looked so dainty and nouvelle cuisiney, but I was full for HOURS.

Oh sorry, have I made you hungry? I'd better not tell you what I'm making for offspring's birthday dinner tonight, in that case.

Love, and stuff,

Antipo

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Communiqué from Amsterdam

2009-05-28T12:50:00.003+02:00

Our intrepid blogger Antipo reports from the road via sext on Tuesday:

Darls, haven't felt like sexting due to nightmarish journey. We left late, traffic jams all the way, my boss stinks of BO, am crammed in t'back with boxes of stuff and am surely developing cancer of the spine. "Dinner" was a quick sanga gobbled in 5 mins in a greasy spoon. ETA is 9:45pm, go straight to expo hall to set up booth and then hotel. Only consolation was watching the sun glint off the hairs on young Cristophe's muscular arms (phwooar!) as he drove manfully from Lille to Rotterdam, and the plethora of commercial vehicles bearing the names "Donk" or "Van Dong". These have put my naughtiness radar on red alert. Much jet-setting love and envy-inspiring kisses, Antipo. xxx

And via email today:

Cara raggazza di Milano,

Get ready to BURST with pride, because I tippled to the max last night with 4, yes FOUR glasses of really good red wine at apéritif hour and then with dinner! I know!!! The lovely Mr Mac would surely be removed to remark that I am now indeed drinking like a grown up.

Amsterdam is lovely lovely lovely and we really must put it on our "To Do In a Heart Shaped Frame" list. The working ladies we saw last night in the in the windows of the Red Light district were young and extremely beautiful, contrary to the old shrivelled hags people usually claim to see. I feel rather tempted to join them, being so young and bouncy myself.

Slept okayish in the crap hotel, but with medicinal aid and am hoping for a quiet day again on the booth, having decided that being bored is actually preferable to talking about industrial catalytic extraction processes with people I don't know, don't care about and will never have to see again.

So while you have been busy being all Italian, I have been suffering quietly. The champagne we will open this afternoon may go some way to alleviate my distress. Also, for the first time ever at an expo, the fridge we have hired actually works properly and makes thing really cold. I love modern technology.

Missing you horribly and I really think you should sell up soon and move to My Quaint Village to be my paid companion, lady's maid and minder. You owe it to yourself to find some happiness and a more meaningful path in life. I'm only thinking of what's best for you.

Busy and Important love and quisses (or 'baci', as I think you would prefer me to say),

Antipo
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HIPPY BATHDAY DEAREST DARLS!

2009-05-20T06:01:00.001+02:00

Dearest, Loveliest Ms. Mac in the Whole Wide World,

I have just about managed to overcome my jealousy at the thought of you escorting two (and I quote) "lovely, gorgeous Australians" around the Village of the Damned this week (hmmph! I thought "lovely, gorgeous Australians" was a contradiction in terms anyway).

And I graciously decided that I will unbend from today's frosty silence just long enough to post you these special flowers

from my very own garden, picked for you at great expense.

How will you be celebrating the special anniversary of your Twenty-First Burpday? Will the lovely Mr. Mac be doing all the cooking and opening bottles of wine? I so wish I could be there to share in the fun and dancing. And to give those "lovely, gorgeous Australians" a lesson in How To Party.

So, you are honoured to accept my fondest, most special birthday wishes to you, my first and only soulie, whose graven image shares a silver, heart-shaped frame with my own fair features.

I wish you much happiness (if you can possibly manage to have any fun at all without my sparkling presence) and many bottles of Veuve Cocquelicot to moisten the proceedings.

Fantastic love and PartyTime kisses,

Antipo
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The Emperor's New Clothes

2009-05-14T12:43:00.005+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Life is somewhat trying today… I rushed home after a stressful day at work to hear all about Crotchfuit No.1’s trial afternoon at the elegant cooking school where he hopes to be come a world famous French chef. He enjoyed his half-day mini-apprenticeship there, and Mr Grumpy Blackheart says the school seems very good. About 30 children were involved. When the parents left, the children were given aprons and taken to the kitchens where they made cookies and flambéed pears!

But, when I found out that:

(1) my son wore the crappy old sweatshirt I had expressly forbidden OVER the smart new white shirt and black trousers (which cost me 30 euros) all the children were required to wear, and

(2) that Mr Grumpy Blackheart didn’t bother to tell him to take the sweatshirt off when they arrived, I exploded in a fireball of menstrual, migraineous rage and gave them both a severe bollocking.

My display of maturity then segued seamlessly into a dramatic throwing of self onto the bed and sobbing until I lost my voice (no doubt to the relief of the whole family). The hormone replacement tablets are obviously lacking a certain vital ingredient…

I went to SO MUCH TROUBLE to enrol him on the course ten days ago. Firstly I had to fill in eleventy billions forms, attach photos, prove my son's identity and blood group, and make seventy thousand photocopies of it all before getting the dossier stamped by his current school. Next step was to anxiously retrieve his dossier from another child, because the collège mistakenly gave it to another boy by the name of Crotchfroot (I’m not making this up). Then, because of their error, I had to sprint to the Post Office in the hot sun to meet the 12 noon deadline for express post two days before the mini-apprenticeship.

Thereafter followed an expensive trip to the Smart Clothes Shop to get the correct apparel. I spend a jolly afternoon washing and ironing the lovely new clothes. Yesterday morning I expended much energy in specifically refusing his request to wear the crappy old sweatshirt (“It’s 25 degrees and humid today darling, you won’t need a sweater at all”).

I went to SO MUCH TROUBLE to ensure he would get the best chance at making a good impression. I could have killed somebody last night. I punished, punished, and punished him; no computer (even for looking up sports results), no football jersey and no TV for three days. I even told him he would have to wear the smart white shirt to school today (I know he won’t do it). I told him if he can’t obey his mother he will never succeed at school and he will end up as a lowly paid rubbish man. I hated him, I hated his father (I KNEW I should have taken the boy myself, but could not get off work), and most of all I hate myself.

Crotchfruit no.2, the female one, was crying all night because we are supposed to have her birthday treat shopping trip to Paris with her best friends Cécile and Liliane in two days time. However, Cécile was rushed to hospital last night with viral meningitis and is undergoing a spinal tap today. I have texted her mother to send love and kisses, and am anxiously awaiting news.

Am I a callous bitch? But my first thought was “Is it contagious?”

My second thought: “Should I postpone the birthday outing until Cécile is better? Of course I should!"

But there are no other free Saturdays until mid-June…and my son’s burpday is also coming up. Should I take daughter and Liliane to Paris on Saturday as planned, then do something else with Cécile when she’s recovered? My brain is melting into a viscous pile of wobby, undercooked scrambled egg.

I do hope you are having a good day for me to vicariously “enjoy”.
Keep me posted.

Red-eyed love and hoarse-voiced kisses served up from a bottomless pit of self-loathing,

Antipo
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Some Excitement On The Horizon!

2009-04-22T14:17:00.002+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I am working today so I can have Froiday off and take Crotchfruit Number 1 to Amsterdam for the weekend. He's getting really excited about sleeping in a houseboat for two nights! The highlight for me will not be the tulips, the Dutch beer, nor the houseboat, but meeting that that Ropey Old Bird and Jorge AND Naughty Michael in the absolute flesh for the very first time.

It brings back fond memories of our first meeting, at our world-famous Dijon picnic. Our 4th Macaversary is coming up soon, according to my diary. Cor, we have beaten many of those Hollywood couples for longevity, haven't we?

Muchos besos,
Antipo

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Easter Blunday

2009-04-13T19:45:00.003+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I promise I'm not ignorming you (that's my new word), but I have spent Easter weekend chained to my 'puter doing an emergency translation of our monthly report, as our poor old regular translator was shipped off to hospital at the worst possible time of the month.

I took time off to do my crotch fruits' Easter Egg hunt yesterday and cooked a fab meal for lunch (chicken tagine with prunes and almonds and couscous - fucking amaaaazing!). Today we delivered the chillun to Mémée and Pépé's and had another fab meal with LOTS of champagne and red wine. Am now translating quite drunkenly, the resluts (my second new word) should be amusing, to say the least.

My Friday off this week will be SOOO relaxing! Hairdresser will beautify me at 9 am, and I've threatened Mr Grumpy Blackheart that if he doesn't take me out somewhere afterwards, his life won't be worth living!

So, back to the price of soft commodities (perilously low, you will be concerned to hear).

Muchos slavish besos,
Antipo

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Traitoress

2009-03-26T21:03:00.003+01:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Thanks to my newest bestest bloggie girlfriend, The Lovely Niamh, I will no longer be referring to my offspring as my offspring, but as my crotchfruit.

Muchos besos,
Antipo
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Darling Eyelash Queen,

2009-03-16T10:28:00.000+01:00

It's utterly ridiculous to think that either you or I would need silk extract in any product for down there. I don't know about your vulva dahlink, (Sigh..... I can dream can't I?) but mine already feels like silk. That's why it's in such high demand.

Yours with naughty pink thoughts,

Princess Pretty Nails
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Now I Know The World Really Has Gone Utterly Mad

2009-03-16T09:50:00.004+01:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

A strange and shocking thing happened to me in the Feminine Hygiene aisle of the supermarket yesterday. As you know, I am a true fairy princess, and have absolutely no need of accessories for my hygiene. I was simply passing through, on my way to the Glittery Dust and Magic Wands aisle.

Did you know, indeed, can you believe that it is possible to purchase a brand of panty liners containing “silk extract” and another brand of panty liners containing “Vitamin E”, in these dizzying times of consumer insanity?

Darls, correct me if I’m wrong, but since when have our vulvas needed silk extracts and vitamin E in order to function correctly? Do the manufacturers really expect that we will eagerly be throwing our hard-earned cash at them, in the sad belief that we wish for silkier and more energized lady gardens? God! Next thing you know, we’ll be lining up for acrylic nails and eyelash extensions!

Yours in disbelief,
Antipo

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Thursday Intercourse with Ms. Mac

2009-03-12T20:43:00.003+01:00

Dearest Darls,

I expect you are all busy with inviting a gajillion readers to a viewing of your Private Parts, hope all goes well!

Have ghastly migraine and a grockly little man is drilling in the office just above my head. I may have to commit suicide or go home to bed.

Choices, choices....

Feeble kisses but unwavering love,

Antipo
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Darls,

I'm getting a bit panicky because I didn't know that you're only allowed 100 private readers and I am nearing 90!!! WTF???

Have to go out later to buy ingredients for Patrick to cook dinner tomorrow night. He asked and gave the following menu - insalate caprese, his bacon, pea and sage pasta and lemon cheesecake. Cheesecake has to be baked tonight so will go and get all stuff today. He can be such a treasure sometimes but other times I want to strangle him. Like the other night, I asked if he could peel the potaotes and he actually said NO to me!!!! Can you believe it? Would you ever had said No to your mother? I made him switch off the Xbox and gave him an hour's worth of chores to do as a punishment. That might learn him!

I have the most fabulous CD which I will have to load onto your iPod thingy (haven't taken it back yet but will do so soon) and am currently listening to Stevie Wonder's Signed Sealed Delivered followed by Rod Stewart's Maggie May followed by Steve Harley's Make Me Smile (Come up and see me) and then Stealers Wheel Stuck in the Middle With You. Awesome. I am awash with nostalgia.

I see your feeble kisses and raise you a big, sloppy tonguey,

Hearts!

S
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Darls! you made the same mistake as did I in my careless youth and misread the Blogger regumalations:

Blogger will only allow 100 contributers, but you can have as many private dancers as you wish (I have a mere 108)!

You can spank me later.

I do wish you would stop harping on about Cheesecake, especially when I'm feeling so fragile...

Antipo

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Oh phew!!!

Thank you my dear, what ever would I do without you?

You know what I still don't get - that young dude, the Kiwi in Berlin. What could us two ropey old birds possibly have to interest him?

108!! Yowza. And yet you still can't be bothered updating! Hint hint.

S
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P.S. My blogger def says I can only have 100 readers. But that's ok. I will just start an exclusive waiting list. It'll be like waiting for a Birkin.

S
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I just did a mini tiny update to satisfy you(r urges).

And what's a Birkin?

Love & ignorant kisses,

Antipo
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P.S. You are obviously on the wrong Blogger. Or Blogger likes me better than you....
P.P.S. Re: Young Kiwi in Berlin: He obviously sees that we are twins and has a kinky thing about twins. Oooh er, Missus!
I think I could have a kinky thing about Sebastian Chabal and his long lost twin...
P.P.P.S. Permission to post ALL of today's intercourse on the Naughty Blog tonight? Too busy at work right now.
Have not yet committed suicide.
Obviously.

Antipo
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PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPS. What do you mean what's a Birkin?????

Quizzical Question

2009-03-03T15:03:00.003+01:00

Dearest Alpine Maiden with Buns of Steel,

So I was walking to work in the wintry, clear blue air this morning, feeling all Robert Frost poetic-like in my appreciation of Mother Nature and her fab designer clothes, when a thought struck me.

Are you ready? It may lead to a task for you.

Why, when admiring the thick white layer of frost coating the grass and the ground in a miraculously even layer, was my eye drawn to an object covered in much longer, thicker ice crystals than are to be found on the rest of the ground?

The mystery object was of course a dog poo.

I really need you to find out what element it is in the biological or chemical composition of dog poo which causes the frost to form more thickly and lushly than on the grass or concrete. This would really take a load off my mind and ease my suffering.

I know I can count on you. You being an expert in cold things and all.

Yours in a spirit of loving scientific enquiry,
Antipo

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P.S. Are you and Mr Mac planning on ravishing me very publicly in a Hot Threesome at The Lovely Doc's house this weekend? Should I bring my school uniform and feather duster?

I Feel Like a Fairy Princess!

2009-02-20T10:31:00.000+01:00

Dearest Lovey Love,

Thank you so much! You never forget! I knew I should have married you, instead of that horrid Mr Forgetful Birthday-Hater.

I graciously accept your lovely little electronic greetings. Please, please do not send snow . I don’t care how lovely it is. I don’t want any more.

The day has been a little quiet so far. My lovely parents called last night. My lovely children hid a present for me before leaving on holiday, so I won’t be able to open it until their return late Saturday night. Lots of lovely Facebookers have titillated me with rude, naughty and nice messages. I’m basking in the afterglow!

Russell Brand has not yet arrived to give me my lap dance, but I’m expecting him any minute. Also, Sebastian Chabal is sure to pop by, bearing his sweaty jock strap for me to launder. So lots of excitement is in store! Of course I will report back to you in full technicolour detail.

Bouncy love and surprisingly youthful kisses,
Antipo

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I'll Be Dragging This One Out Every Year- Get Used To It

2009-02-19T22:50:00.000+01:00

Dearest Antipo,

It is now (despite the timestamp on this post- when are you going to sort that out, by the way?) one minute past midnight and officially your birthday! In honour of this momentous occasion I present this, the most appropriate of all YouTubes!

Also, don't be stalking out the letter box quite yet for a card professing my undying love for the next 365 days because I haven't sent it yet. I was snowed in, see and.....

Anyway, let's not get into all that now. Let's just concentrate on making sure you have a brilliant day. You deserve it!

Happy Birthday, Helen!

Love,

S
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Grumpyface Monday

2009-02-09T10:11:00.001+01:00

Dearest Dollface,

(actually, you are much prettier than a doll because you are a living entity. Also you don’t need bottle-feeding and your nappy changing, which is a huge bonus). I do hope you are well.

So sadly, my own features can only be described as hollow-eyed this morning, as I have clocked up one week of broken sleep thanks to Lord Sinus, who has been snorting and blowing his gigantic nose in the bed right next to me at odd hours of the night. Tonight I’m sleeping on the sofa, with only the gentle nocturnal rustlings of the canary to disturb me.

My tongue is now lined with pulsating mouth ulcers, which is the first symptom of severe fatigue in my organism. The second symptom is Homicidal Rage, which was due to hit next week (PMT) anyway. So I shall be a very Merry Widow indeed.

I hereby cordially invite you to the wake, and you can of course help me spend my inheritance and widow’s pension. What fun we will have!

Muchos cranky love and baggy-eyed kisses,
Antipo

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Dear Lovey,

2009-02-06T10:57:00.000+01:00

Lunch with What's'erface was really, really noice. We are mutual friends of the lovely Marita in Melbourne and we must have met each other before prior to Wednesday. Rapperswil was all sunny and showing itself off and the pizza had enough anchovies on it to make me slurp San Pell like it was going out of style.

I've been out this morning picking up Mr Mac from the airport after a five day trip to Abu Dhabi. He is desperately trying to get me into bed for some rumpeh pumpeh but I am resisting his amorous advances as well as a militant dieter on Weight Watchers. I just cannae be arsed this morning. He did bring me some lovely pressies though so I suppose I should put out tonight as a special thanks.

Lawks a lordy! There is a time and a place for white vinyl gogo boots and I suspect that is it always shrouded in a smoky atmosphere with neon lighting and a stage equipped with sturdy poles. Never in broad daylight. But, you know, as long as the owner of the ~~fuck me~~ gogo boots likes them, then that's what counts.

Oh, Madness just came on the radio. I've just got a warm fuzzy feeling. Love a bit of Madness. Did you hear, Suggs was chairing the AGM last night of the Black Lesbians for the Rights of Supressed Animals league? It's Madness gone politcally correct!

And on that note, I bid you Adieu!

Mile baci, bella Antipo,

MM

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Unfeasibly Happy Friday

2009-02-06T10:31:00.000+01:00

Dearest Cheating Ms. Mac,

So how did your “lunch date” with lovely Ms. What’s'ErName go? Is her nose prettier than mine? I bet she slurped her soup though. You know that nobody, but nobody, has such refined table manners as I.

Anyway, I’m not jealous. Not at all! She probably hasn’t yet earned her position in your silver heart-shaped photo frame collection.

In fact, I’m feeling inexplicably happy and bouncy today! You know that moment in the opening credits to The Mary Tyler Moore Show, when she arrives in Minneapolis, throws her beret in the air and twirls around for sheer joy? I feel just like that today.

Oh that’s right, I forgot that you weren’t even an embryo in the Seventies. You don’t know what you missed!

Anyway, a possible reason to explain my unwarranted perkiness (because it is still very cold here) is that I encountered a not very young woman on my way to work this morning when crossing my impossibly quaint cobblestoney bridge. She was all dressed up to the nines, with way too much makeup and exaggerated hair-dye. She was wearing white vinyl gogo boots with chunky heels.

I smiled at her. I then raised my eyes to the heavens and thanked the Little Baby Cheeses that those boots were “gracing” her legs and not mine.

Love and worming-my-way-back-into-your-affections-whatever-it-takes kisses,

Antipo
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SNF Review

2009-02-05T10:11:00.000+01:00

Dearest Slumpy Ms. Mac,

I am severely envious of your lunch date today and will undoubtedly have to scratch her eyes out if you ever have the temerity (or indeed stupidity) to introduce me to her.

But Guten Appetit anyway!

My enjoyment of the music, young John Travolta’s pointy collars and spinny dancing during yesterday’s special viewing of Saturday Night Fever was slightly marred by my judgemental adult brain which kept saying things like:

My God! No wonder the fillum was not suitable for me at the age of twelve, my dears the language! Fuck and Cunt all over the show.

My God! The hypocrisy of the Italian-American community in Brooklyn in the 70s, where young women were either ‘nice girls’ or ‘cunts’. The boys were constantly on the make, trying to get the girls into their car for a quick shag, only thinking to ask them if they were ‘fixed’ once penetration had already occurred. Poor Father Frank Jnr, upon leaving the church received no love and support from his mother, only condemnation for the shame he had ‘brought upon the family’. The young guy who got his girlfriend pregnant killed himself rather than be forced to marry her! Things are so very different today, thankfully.

My God! The RACIST language used by the young studs in referring to the Hispanic and Black communities! It was so hostile and aggressive! I guess my comfortable middle class upbringing has ill equipped me to understand the frustrations of the young, urban, testosterone-fuelled males stuck in shitty jobs with no exciting career prospects.

But something very nice happened on my way to work this morning. It had rained heavily overnight and half the sky was still covered with black, looming rain clouds, although the other half was blue and the sun was just coming up. My eyes were treated to the arresting sight of a delicate plume of smoke from somebody’s chimney, touched pink and coral by the sun’s first rays, against a backdrop of the black and broody sky. Also a dove was perched on the chimney pot, turning its wise, wee face to aforementioned sun ray.

Naturally I slapped my thigh in annoyance at not having my camera with me, for you can be sure that I would have taken the most beautiful photo ever, and it would certainly have won me the Nobel Prize for Nature Photography. Oh yes.

So, love & stuff,

Antipo

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Homegirl Wednesday

2009-02-04T09:46:00.000+01:00

Dearest Darls!

Have just got the brats off to school and am now going to watch my 7 euro DVD of (don't laugh) Saturday Night Fever.

I somehow have never seen it: I was 12 years old when it first came out in the cine and in New Zillund it was an R13 fillum and I was too young-looking to try and cheat my way in. So now, only 31 years later, I can enjoy the music of the Bee Gees, and the young JT's disco dancing, while drinking tea and munching a giant pain au chocolat in the privacy of my own home, while the plebs are out at work and it's minus three point five degrees outside!

But first have to cut my toenails and give the canary her anti-biotics. Such is my exciting life!

Also, I had two lovely surprises this morning: an email from The Lovely Veronica in the US and a phone call from The Lovely Gabrielle. They both said "Oh Antipo, our lives are deep, dank, desperate pits of misery without your wittering on the internet, won't you please get over yourself and start blogging again?"*

So apparently I am not a forgotten entity and they both motivated me to get the hell over my Blog Slump and share my pearly wisdom with all our lovely readers again. Isn't that nice?

Of course this means that you too will have to get your arse into gear again, as I can hardly be expected to carry the heavy responsibility of The Naughty Blog on my fragile little shoulders, all by myself, can I?

Muchos encouraging besos,
Antipo

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* I think that's what they said, although my ears haven't been cleaned in a long time, so I can't guarantee the 100% accuracy of the quote.

Winter Blahs Blasted Away!

2009-01-13T11:15:00.000+01:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Thanks to you and your bottomless fount of culinary expertise, I was blasted out of my Winter Blahs this morning.

I remembered what you once told me about caramel wafers. I was inspired enough to carefully position my rock-hard honey waffle on top of my steaming cup of cawfee.

I even remembered to turn it after two minutes, so that both sides could soften. When I bit into my morning delicacy, the warm honey oozed out over my tongue and chin, and gave my taste buds and my morale a HUGE uplifting, boosty boost!

YOU ARE A GENIUS.

How can I ever repay you?

What tips will you have for me at lunchtime, I wonder?

And perhaps I should call you again just before dinner tonight...

Stand by!

Lurve and entirely satisfied customer kisses,

Antipo

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bad mother, all-round nasty human being

2009-01-12T10:19:00.000+01:00

Dearest Darls,

Am suffering the worst case of Mondayitis in the history of paid employement!

What am I doing here?

Also, is it wrong that it annoys me SO MUCH when the kids cut big chunks out of the side of the butter, instead of neatly cutting off dainty slivers from the end, which would leave a nice, easily wrap-uppable rectangle?

And when prospective clients fill in an order form on our website, some type in their phone number without leaving the country code and also they hurriedly type in a looooong number with NO spaces whatsoever, meaning I have to go back later and put spaces in, in order to save my poor eyes, and this makes me feel murderous rage... and , and, I've forgotten what my question was....

I'll go and make a cawfee now!

Love and gloomy kisses,

Antipo

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Relief-Ridden Thursday

2009-01-08T09:50:00.000+01:00

Dearest Jet-Setting, Glamour Puss Darls!

Am so relieved to hear you are back safe and sound with your lovely new nails intact! Had been envisioning terrible snowy roads + fast car overladen with Christmas bounty = tragic carnage scenario for some silly reason.

Can't wait to hear the jeans story!

Am also delighted to know that I am not the only one who is vain enough to lurve having artificial bits stuck to her body purely for reasons of aesthetic enhancement. So you have a 'Nail Technician now' - get you!

I know you are out prancing about in the snowy snow, and cannot email me just yet, but I must point out that you are being spoiled with such tropical temps as -6°. We in France have it tough, and our bollocks are freezing right off in -12°, so there!

Look forward to receiving some precious missives from you, so that my life can begin again.

Muchos blue-nosed besos,

Antipo

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HIPPY NUDE YEAR!

2009-01-05T09:52:00.000+01:00

Dearest Hannah's Auntie,

Are you on the way home yet? already back maybe? I'm back in the office after my paltry days off: it was so cold we stayed at home watching loads of fillums and eating Kevin's recipes from his new cook book: choux buns with vanilla cream, tiramisu, Chocolate liégeois and of course eleventy billion truffles of assorted flavours.

Mr Grumpy Blackheart and I actually had to open a second bottle of champ on NY's Eve, so you are going to be very proud of me and my burgeoning alcohol consumption indeed! My NY reasolutions are:

(1) drink more

and

(2) eat more.

It is snowing like a bitch outside. Am trying not to think of all my rellies at home sweltering at the beach and complaining that they can't sleep at night because it's too hot.

Other than that, my brians are empty. NTR, baby, NTR.

I hope you are safe and warm and not missing me too horribly! Hope to get back into regular written intercourse with you from today.

Muchos Nude Year Besos,

Antipo

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Slothful Sunday

2008-12-21T20:29:00.000+01:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Darls, are you leaving for Bonnie Scotland in the morning? I saw on your Twitter that you are all packed, and I know you generally do that at the last minute, lol!

Safe trip Lovey and please please please sext me all important food and itinerary details in real time, also the colour of Mr. Mac's face as he tries to fit all your clever packing into the car boot.

I wish I was going with you!

We had a v. quiet weekend recovering from our snotty noses and bronchial coughs. Kids and I watched all three Austin Powers movies, yaay!

You know how I thought I had The Big Talk with Popo all done and dusted? Well today she asked me what orgasm means. I replied very simply "It's a sex thing". She said "Oh. Yuck!" and went back to playing with her Polly Pockets. So that's nice.

Will miss you horribly, as usual and my Christmas will be grey and dire. But I shall survive.

Muchos seasonal Besos,

Antipo
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Been Out In The Snow And Other Stuff

2008-12-11T13:45:00.000+01:00

Darls,

Please make sure when you bring up Christmas dinner that you get yourself invited and don't make the old dear think you're inviting her again. That would be a complete disaster.

I know what you mean about being skint at this time of year. Oh, the plans I have to buy pressies but they all have to wait until payday- when we are always rich as Croesus for 24 hours; the Payday Barons. I do feel terrible though- your poor kids have to gather their own twigs from the forest for presents and I got to enjoy the company of you and Her Madgesty for a glorious weekend in September. How spoiled am I?

Went out for a walk in the snow today. I go out walking for an hour - hour and a half every Tuesday and Thursday morning between the hours of 9:30 and approx 11am. Today it started snowing at 9:29 and didn't let up until about 10:57. Fucking typical. I am cold but I feel awesome. Slip sliding about in the white powdery stuff does wonder for your quads and glutes. I have buns of steel, baby, BUNS. OF. STEEL.

Muchos besos, my beloved bruised private dancer,

S
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Thrilling (said with sarcasm) Thursday!

2008-12-11T09:57:00.001+01:00

Dearest Darls,

Have absolutely no physical injuries or mental handicaps to report today - that's the good news. On the other hand, there is an equally distinct absence of excitement and thrills in my life right now.

As you know, I don't like using the C-word at this time of year. But you will be shocked to know, that oweing to last month's financial disability, I did not rush out early and get all organised for the festive season. Indeed, I am positively laid back about it this year. My offspring may well be unwrapping a bundle of twigs from the forest in the guise of old-fashioned, vintage, retro toys. The festive dinner will probably all come out of cans and sachets. Or, I may try angling to get invited to the in-laws' place instead, and thereby not have to feed anybody!

Going to practice my best buttering up of the old girl right now.

Later Babe!

Scroogey love and broke kisses,

Antipo

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Tuesday Bluesday

2008-12-09T11:11:00.000+01:00

Dearest Darls,

Sorry for not replying yesterday. I am in one of my slumps where I can't be bothered doing anything or anybody. Plus, there is quite literally nothing to tell you. Nothing of interest is going on here and I'm being possibly the most boring person in the whole wide world at the moment. Last night I made James brush his teeth with soap because his language is so spectacularly foul that it makes me blush and Patrick is an obnoxious arsehole most of the time. Just as I think I might have them both killed, they go and give me a cuddle or make me cheese on toast or something and I am conned into thinking that they're not really that bad at all, are they? Ewan is being ok, I suppose.

Mr Mac is fine, I'm fine (apart from being slumpy) and life is just fine and nice.

How are you since your mishaps on the dancefloor? I have heard it can be murder out there. Poor bruised Antipo. I send you muchos besos for your injuries and big hug for your wounded pride. But really, love, handstands? That was showing off and you know what they say, Gott straft sofort!

With lots of love and kisses,
S
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Manky Monday

2008-12-08T09:50:00.000+01:00

Dearest Darls,

Am feeling damnably groggy and stiff today, due to having fallen on my bum twice (!) during the dance recital yesterday. We were not dancing on our usual stage with non-slip floor covering, but instead were down on the tiled floor where the Old Folks' Club of my wee village was having its annual Christmas thé dansant (dinner and a show).

We knew about the problem floor, and got through two dances very carefully by performing with slightly subdued movements, and without mishap. However, during the French Can-Can, I threw myself into a handstand with great gusto and my hand slipped, sending me crashing inelegantly to the floor on my elbow and shoulder. In the scramble to regain my footing and catch up to the other dancers, my feet failed to gain purchase and I landed amusingly on my bum. So that was nice.

I carried on with a smile on my face like a real trouper, and limped to the dressing room to get some magic spray on my bruises and lots of sympathy from the other dancers. Yay! Body is intact, pride somewhat dented. I just hope the video of the event doesn't make it onto the internet too quickly!

My alarm clock rang offensively early this morning, jolting me out of a fabulous dream, where I was stuck in a lift with Sebastien Chabal. He turned out to be quite the philosopher and we were right in the middle of a deeply intellectual conversation at the time. Shit.

So I do hope you have an equally riveting tale to tell. Perhaps you were assaulted by a malevolent hoover during the weekend? Or locked in the laundry room with George Clooney, who just happened to be passing through the Village of the Dammned and was seized with an uncontrollable urge to wash his smalls? I want ALL the juicy details, mind!

Much cracky-bones love & hurty kisses,

Antipo

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Flat Froiday

2008-12-05T11:08:00.000+01:00

Dearest Darls,

Am knackered! End of the week exhaustion from extra dance rehearsals, I suppose. Have still not come down off my cloud of Thanksgiving glory to which The Lovely Doc treated us last weekend.

Daughter will be dancing for the Telethon tomorrow, so I'm laying bets as to whether Mr Grumpy Blackheart will be hauling his carcass out of bed at 9:30 am to watch the apple of his eye in her moment of glory, or not!

Will do roast turkey leg and brussels sprots for lunch (I like sprots so much better than sprouts, don't you?)

Then on Sunday I have to get all glammed up for dancing:

(1) The French CanCan (will show my knickers again, all slutty-like)

(2) The Schoolmistresses (classical ballet, all classy-like, with strict looks and menacing shakes of the ruler)

(3) The Secretaries (jazz ballet, all sexy and feline moves, meaningful stares from our swivel chairs, letting down hair from a bun and throwing gigantic fake specs into the audience).

Quite a fun weekend shaping up! I do hope you can top that, Mrs Fabulous 'n' Exciting!

Muchos smarmy besos,

Dame Antipo Fonteyn

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Whiffy Wednesday

2008-11-26T10:23:00.000+01:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I'm thinking I really should get in the shower and freshen up a little before venturing out to get the kids from school for lunch.

But I have blogs to update, sewing jobs for handsome Australians, and a ton of housework and shopping to do, due to spousal incomptence during my six-day absence from home. So I think I'll skip my personal hygiene today, you don't mind, do you?

D'ya know? I'm still in withdrawal from having left your cosy Swiss nest in the Village of the Damned, and am replaying all the best bits over and over in my mind.

- the virile, PMT-fuelled way you shouted and waved your fists at those cretinous Swiss drivers
- our fabulous lunch, spiced with girly gossip with The Lovely Sylv, long may she reign

- totally admiring The Lovely Sylv's exciting cleavage
- getting a massive bear hug from your husband when you weren't looking
- visiting the Schoggi Haus for early, chocolatey Christmas shopping
- the fact that we didn't talk about US politics, not even once! Not even in comedic way!
- being towered over by the MiniMacs, and distributing wee chocs to them in order to keep them on my side
- the raclette dinner we had with The Lovely Simon, who won the ladies' hearts with very fine chocolates and suave conversation
- hooting with laughter (toot toot!) at Peep Show, Lost in Austen, and that funny show with the obnoxious children at a weddding...
- swooning with lust every time Seb Chabal came on screen during the France vs. Australia rugby (I don't even mind that France lost!)
- thinking 'Remind me NEVER to let Mr Mac mix me a vodka and orange ever again'...
- calling The Lovely Andi to congratulate on her long-awaited American citizenship gig (and to warn her about Americans)
- eating The Lovely Gomad's Birnenbrot with cawfee for breakfast, or was that our second breakfast of the Saturday?
- fetching the messages at a big shopping centre and NOT being accosted and abused by crazy old Swiss grannies keen to impart their childcare tips.

Today I am forlornly sniffing the plastic bag in which you so lovingly wrapped my Mystery Spice sandwiches for my long train trip home, and wishing you would adopt me on a permanent basis instead of cruelly welcoming me in and then casting me out after only three short days of bliss.

Later Babe!

Muchos besos muy calientes,
Antipo
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The Ultimate Sacrifice

2008-11-19T11:00:00.000+01:00

Darls, you do realise I stood up a hot date with Seb for you?

Chabal to start for France against Australia

My neighbour is taking Kevin to the match and I was supposed to go too, but never thought that Seb would be playing even as a sub, let alone a whole match!!!

So you are doubly, triply honoured by my presence on Saturday!

(I think you probably kiss better than Seb anyway)

Antipo

xxxx

Sexting

2008-11-19T10:44:00.000+01:00

Darls! I drove the first two hours, can now see the mountains. Lunch was salmon sangas, had to be quick, we were running late- ha! We are listening to a cd of Mika, I had fun translating "suck too hard on your lollipop and love's gonna get you down"! I saw snow forecast for Zurich on Saturday. Got my woolly hat and glubs packed. Hope this sext has brought a spark of excoitement (if not actual danger) into your day. Can't wait till 6pm- champagne o'clock! My handsome greek will be there after all, he has changed companies. Hold on Zorba, I'm coming!

More later, Hot, Greek kisses, Antipo xxx

Re: request for reservation

2008-11-17T12:58:00.001+01:00

Dear Sir or Madam,

I hereby confirm my reservation at Château Mac for three nights in the luxury penthouse suite.

Please confirm you will send handsome little man in a smart uniform and fetching blue cap to pick me up at the airport on Thursday aftenoon.

Please confirm champagne is on ice.

Payment will be rendered in kind (fancy French goodies).

Yours very sincerely,

Ms. Busy and Important

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The Countdown Begins!

2008-11-08T09:35:00.000+01:00

Dearest Soulie and Light of My Life,

Only thirteen days to go until I see you again! How honoured you will be by my presence!

Have you hoovered the guest suite yet, and strewn rose petals around? (You may use dried petals, as long as they are richly scented, for it would be a foolish extravagence to fly in fresh ones from another hemisphere, not to mention harmful for the environment).

I am so looking forward to seeing your smiling face light up with joy as I alight from the train. You will clasp me to your magnificent bosom, then take me home for cocktails (gin and lemonade please), just like the old days.

While I curl up on your red sofa, all cosy like, flirting with your husband and scolding your children, I imagine you will be in the kitchen, slaving over a hot garlic & meatballs, or perhaps your stupendous laksaaaaaah! (Try not to let drops of sweat fall into the sauce though).

I await a list of menu options, with your suggestions. Each dish with a ticky box for me to indicate my agreement or displeasure.

I just can't wait! It has been too, too long, Dearest.

Humble love and modest kisses,

Antipo

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Darls,

2008-11-07T12:51:00.000+01:00

Am here, am hale and hearty, just have absolutely nothing to say!

Hand over your Most Boring Soulie in the World award, sharpish!

S
xxxx

ps. I love that Gomad called us a pair of slappers! How right he is!

Swiss Friday

2008-11-07T09:35:00.000+01:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I’m feeling very Swiss today! Shall I tell you why?

I dressed this morning in my fabulous red coat, tightly buttoned, had my scarf neatly tucked in and my hair in a tidy chignon (oh là là !)

As I walked briskly through my village with a intimidatingly efficient air, my head up, shoulders down and back ramrod straight, I noticed to my great displeasure, that a house which had obviously hosted a children’s birthday party weeks ago was still sporting some tatty, shrivelled up old balloons on its front gate!

The word which immediately sprang to mind was schlampig! Admittedly, this might not be a good Swiss-German word, but in old-fashioned Hochdeutsch it means ‘slovenly’, and it’s one of my favourite words, as you can imagine.

So I tut-tutted, and pursed my lips in disapproval. I even considered ringing the Schlampes' doorbell, or writing them a note, to let them know how unacceptable this was, but I didn't want to be late for work. Such a dilemma! I had to settle for casting a scowly, evil look in the direction of the house. I think that will help them see the error of their ways.

Then I noticed the disorderly autumn leaves strewn in totally irregular patterns across the footpath, and I had to scurry to work, looking neither right nor left, my heels tap-tapping loudly to cover my irritation, before anymore unpleasantness could disturb my peace of mind.

Re: your vexing problem of stolen identity.

Um… I have to come clean Guv’nor… it was me.

I am the guilty party. I adore you so much and envy you your exotic life so deeply, that I was compelled to try and be you, just for a day or two, in the hopes that a micro-milligramme of your utter fabulousness might rub off onto me. Also, all your tasty boyfriends from the past have been popping up out of the woodwork and, you will be pleased to know, are ecstatic to be in touch with you again.

So, stalkery love and usurpy kisses,

Antipo

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Oh Lovey,

2008-11-06T12:35:00.000+01:00

Je suis jealous! It's been ages since a big ole brawny truck driver honked at me. Last time I got honked at, it was a goose, in a zoo.

Mind you, there was that time I was with James at the local train station and a random guy stopped me, told me how lovely my eyes are and asked me to have coffee with him. James looked at him like he was blind and mentally disabled and had a look on his face that quite clearly screamed, "WTF!?! She's my mother! She's old!" Hah! You know what will learn our 'orrible teenaged sons? When one day, they're in their 50s, look over at their wives who are berating them from the kitchen for their latest petty offence and realise, "Jaysus, I really did marry my mother!"

Since writing the above, dearest Antipo, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you -- be assured that I am well. As I was searching for members of my family (namely my sister) on Facebook today, I ran across someone with the exact same name as me, my christian, middle and (maiden) surname. Bear in mind that I do not have a name like Sharon Anne Brown. I clicked on who my Doppelgänger's friends are, out of interest and my Doppelgänger has befriended a bloke I went to school with!

Given how unusual a name I was given at birth, and given the fact that he's sent me a couple of messages on Friends Reunited, I suspect the dolt I went to school with thinks he has befriended me! But he hasn't! He's befriended someone who has either been given the same name as me who he knows or someone who is pretending to be me. I don't know if a) it would be terribly presumptuous of me to message him and say, "Oy! Thickie! That's not me, this is me!" or b) if I can be arsed messaging him at all. What do you think? It's all very odd, isn't it?

Mmmmm.... having a lunchtime cup of coffee. And thinking about all the babies floating about at the moment. I have three blog friends now with brand new baby boys, a brand new baby niece (new photo here) who is getting more and more gorgeous with every day and a friendly neighbour ready to burst. I tell you, if it wasn't for the fact that I am so over having babies of my own, I'd be exceptionally broody right now. Actually, I do have a pang, not so much for the actual baby, but that feeling of excitement and anticipation that you get just as your due date rolls around and you know that at any moment, you could have another wee bundle of loveliness to cuddle and get you up in the middle of the night!

With broody love and quisses,

MM

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Dear Black 'n' Blue Beauty,

2008-11-03T17:31:00.000+01:00

How I wish I could be a source of soothing succour this morning, as you nurse your contusions and your wounded pride. Sadly, I can only offer this: That's what you get when you abandon me in my sloth to go and be all sporty!

I am suffering a wave the size of a tsunami this morning of Weltschmerz. My long-suppressed inner feminist has been raging all weekend about the injustices we creatures of oestrogen and valour suffer at the hands of the patriarchy. It all started when I read yet another fucking guideline from the British Government about what pregnant women in Britain are supposed to be doing now. Apparently a glass of wine or two per week won't hurt your baby in utero now, as opposed to last week when babies were at risk from presumed alcoholic mothers-to-be who dared sip a glass of champagne to celebrate their birthday while carrying their precious cargo of the establishment's next generation. Oh, you fucking think? How did the fucking human race manage to get this far without friggin' government guidelines to tell us how to live our lives? Women have been conceiving, gestating and birthing young 'uns since the dawn of time without all your rules and regulations designed to control and take every liberty with a body that is not yours, you bunch of fuckwits!

Grrrr!

And then I kept torturing myself by looking at this:

and got angrier and angrier at every glance of the gorgeous Halle Berry posing with no trousers, bra showing and her fingers stretched over her inner thigh. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for a bit of nudity every now and then. Just don't try to fool me that Halle's image, in comparison with Bill's strength and determination is one of powerful femininity and not sheer exploitation of the female form. Fucking fuckers and cunting cunts!

And not to mention the 13 year old girl who was raped by three men and stoned to death in Somalia for having committed adultery.

Arghhhh! I'm so friggin' angry.

Dreadfully sorry to have bored you silly with my ranting and raving my love. I promise to be in a better mood when I write next.

Feminist love and kisses, Sister!

S
xxxxx

Malingering Monday

2008-11-03T10:06:00.000+01:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I do hope you are well this sunny morning, and certainly not limping around, groaning in pain, and hampered in your every move by stiff, aching muscles and massive haematomas in fetching shades of yellow/purple/blue…

In fact I hope you are on form for dishing out bucket loads of tea and sympathy, for I am wounded and gravely injured from top to toe – indeed, it’s a miracle that I can actually lift a finger to type this missive.

Yesterday I was running through the forest with my son, when I tripped on an evil tree root malevolently concealed beneath piles of fallen autumn leaves and went sprawling onto my right shoulder, hip and knee. It was such a shock to find myself suddenly horizontal with no warning, breathing in leaf mulch and worm droppings! Also, my dignity was dealt a severe blow.

So I hope to receive kind, soft words of sincere sympathy from you, but knowing you, I may have to settle for some smug “I told you so”s instead.

Thank goodness I have Vivi’s new baby excitement
to cheer me up and take my mind off the pain!

Muchos invalidos besos,

Antipo
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Wicked Wednesday

2008-10-29T09:25:00.001+01:00

Dearest Aunty Ms. Mac,

No work today! It feels soooooo good to be all cosy at home and not to have to venture out in the big, bad world.

I seem to have carelessly misplaced my children (one ran away to the French grandparents' and the other is attending a pre-Hallowe'en sleepover party), so I have invited some raucous Aussies for lunch and will spend the morning preparing the following:

- beetroot, orange and walnut salad
- carrot, sesame, chicken and avocado starter with sweet Thai chili sauce
- Nigella's mirin-glazed salmon
- Vivi's Fat Fat Creamed Potatoes in Fat
- Rich chocolate gateau with sour cream and wafer thin slices of crystallised ginger
- fab cawfee to finish.

I do hope you approve. Must rush to the hot stove now and start slaving. My favourite pastime!

Missing you horribly, but managing to entertain myself nonethess.

Happy kisses,

Antipo

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The Six Random Things Meme

2008-10-26T22:16:00.001+01:00

I was tagged by The Lovely Daisy!

Six random things about me that you didn't already know.

1. I am a born again fitness nazi, have lost some weight and am doing some sport every day: am loving the new sensations of muscles in my thighs and abdomen, but I try not to talk about it for fear of boring people.

2. My pumpkin soup is the best in the entire universe and I get quite bitchy when people try to offer me their great-auntie’s recipe, because MINE CANNOT BE SURPASSED.

3. I still haven’t signed up for those Humility Classes I keep meaning to attend.

4. I dislike children (including my own) and would rather be sipping cocktails, writing novels, entertaining a legion of lovers and getting a massage at a health club three times a week.

5. My head is inhabited by several different personalities, and they all get along quite well, even though some of them do bitch about the others behind their backs.

6. The day my sense of humour fails me, is the day I curl up and die. Also, the world will probably stop revolving on its axis and a comet will almost certainly smash our planet to bits.

Congratulations

2008-10-23T10:20:00.000+02:00

Dearest Aunty Ms. Mac,

How thrilling to see you basking in your new-found auntiness! I must say, your exalted new status suits you very well.

I don't wish to boast, but as you know, I have myself been an auntie for five years now, and I am happy to say that I have performed my auntly duties to the best of my abilities.

Please don't ever feel that you can't come to me for any advice or coaching! As you know I am not a superior or haughty type, but a warm-hearted, humble individual, and I am just panting to bestow the blessing of all my worldly knowledge and experience upon you and all my little friends. You will be so honoured to receive the fruits of my vast wisdom!

Please don't thank me for my kind offer. It comes from the very bottom of my heart.

With wise love and supremely elegant kisses,

Aunty Antipo

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Expecting, Linzertorte, Jodi Picoult. It's all happening here, baby!

2008-10-21T12:16:00.000+02:00

Darling,

How happy I am to bring some excitement into your vacuum of mothingness. Today, not only have I seen with my very own eyes a steam train!, But I am also expecting a very special delivery. Extra-special. Send your very best thoughts.

It may tickle you to know that I got an amusing comment on one of my book reviews, a Jodi Picoult book. It reads thusly:

"i actually liked this book and all the other Jodi Picoult books.
you shouldnt judge her on onlyone of her books.
if you dont like them and think you could do better i'd like to see you write a novel and get an award for it!! "

I am refraining from responding and going to concentrate on writing that award winning novel instead. I'll be staying away from Jodi Picoult novels in future since it seems that a side-effect of reading her novels is a tendency to lose the power of punctuation, a skill I am quite fond of.

Oh, and now Patrick has just brought home a Linzertorte from his baking class in school. It's a great day indeed!

Have I brightened your day? Pray tell me I have!

With expectant love and cakey kisses,

S
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The Guiness Book of World Records Came Knocking!

2008-10-21T12:07:00.000+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I am proud to announce that I have set a new world record! Yes, today I am officially The Most Boring Person in the Universe! Nothing is happening here, nothing at all. I am the Queen of the Bland. My mind is a vacuum, my fingers are an empty production line.

Also, it is raining in my Quaint Village today. Cats and dogs.

Muchos bland besos,

Antipo

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Thought For The Day

2008-10-20T09:17:00.000+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Do you know what I would like people to say about me when I'm dead?

"That Antipo, she had really good posture, didn't she?"
"Mmm, yeah, she really did."

In other news, my mid-life crisis has propelled me into a new career as a rampant shoes-and-handbags shopaholic.

I spent Saturday in Paris with my offspring, needed (no really, I NEEDED) one pair of elegant, but comfortable high-heeled shoes for the two cocktail parties I will be attending in Geneva for work next month. So I was prepared to fork out a bit more dosh than I usually would, you know, for a quality product. The bloody saleslady showed me a matching handbag which I don't need and couldn't afford. But I bought it. And I love it.

It's a bit of a worry, isn't it?

Thoughtful love and straight-backed kisses,
Antipo

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Have you seen the size of my husband’s pumpkins?!

2008-10-13T19:53:00.001+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Have you seen the size of my husband’s pumpkins?!

This one weighed in at 7.4 kg. A fine specimen indeed.

I naturally had to lock my children in the basement in order to get the peace and quiet necessary to produce a vast, simmering cauldron of my world famous Supercilious Bitch Pumpkin Soup.

Two sweet, white Cévennes onions (my onions are so smart, they were each wearing a little sticker to prove their origin) were sweated in butter, with a few shavings of juicy carrot and a very small diced potato. Handfuls of ginger, nutmeg, all spice, paprika and and garam masala were thrown into the pot with gay abandon. A soupçon of brown sugar joined the melting pot.

The roasted pumpkin slices were peeled and diced, then simmered for 20 minutes in the spices and a litre of vegetable stock. I puréed the lot with my magic wand, added a drop of milk and served with a dusting of freshly grated nutmeg.

Culinary love and soupy kisses,

Antipo

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P.S. You’ll be pleased to know, in a show of true soulie-ship, that our menstrual cycles have now synchronised. So that’s nice.

Anti-Antipo Climax

2008-10-13T09:15:00.000+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

How did your weekend score on the Excitement-o-meter?

I am feeing rather miffed (if I were a complete pervert, I would say that I am feeling Miffy, but I’m only half a pervert, as you know, so I shall refrain from using any sleazy references to fluffy children’s icons just to pull in the Googling punters for some cheap publicity).

So… what ? … where am I ? Oh yeah, feeling upset because last night I wrote you a stonking, stupendous blog post, with revealing photographs and everything! But disaster struck and our internet connexion went down, so I was not able to publish it. You will have to wait until tonight when we shall see if Mr Fixit has done something to remedy this grave problem.

So today I am feeling rather uninspired and downcast. I think I shall spend the day writing on my anonymous pornie blog in order to cheer myself up. Even you don’t have the password to that one! It’s really naughty!

Pornie love and sexpot kisses,

Antipo

xxxxxx

This Missive Brought To You By The Colour Whorish Red

2008-10-10T11:23:00.000+02:00

Dearest Love,

In an ideal world, teenagers would be raised by their fathers between the ages of 12 and 21 while mothers lay in the sun sipping champagne being served (and perhaps even serviced) by well-toned, oiled-up, fuzzy-chested, not-too-young-to know-what's-what hunky spunks wearing the bare minimum who occasionally have to bend over to pick things up right in front of us. For me, it's the just desserts for having given birth to the little ingrates and then reared them successfully to the stage where they can throw all your efforts right back in your face.

Alas! I have no sexual adventures from last night to entertain you with on this fine morn. I did paint my fingernails a very sexy and daringly whorish bright red- my word, I fancy myself with these hands right now- but poor old Mr Mac was too tired last night to have me dig them into his buttocks, or indeed even look at them, and retired to bed early. Pffft!

I'd write more but I started reading that strange, eerie and absorbing book, the one your brother loaned us and it's almost unputdownable.

More later, when I find out just exactly what has been going on in the Highlands of Scotland. I always knew they were a bit strange up there!

Painted nail love and whorish red kisses,

MM
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God, I Hate Teenagers (Especially In The Mornings)

2008-10-10T09:03:00.001+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Do you remember when we once confessed that if we had known earlier just how adorable (not to mention soft) hamsters can be, we woud have given birth to rodents instead of children? We were totally right!

Why can I not get a peaceful cup of tea down my throat in the mornings, without my horrible offspring sniping at each other, quibbling and answering me back in snippy, exasperated tones? I used to be such a lovely, morning person, but not any more!

God help me, I'm going to have to lock them up in a rabbit hutch each and push pellets and greenery under the door, so I can sit alone at the breakfast table every morning and wake up in a reasonable manner.

I just know they will one day publish their memoirs of their horrendous childhood, and the opening line will be:

My mother was the grumpiest bitch on earth in the mornings...

And it's so unfair! I used to be a nice person. In the olden days.

Requesting tea and sympathy Darls!

Antipo

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Dearest Long Lost Antipo,

2008-10-09T15:41:00.001+02:00

Ooooh! Don't you look loverly in those photos of you ~~flirting and giggling~~ talking seriously about very important matters with your ~~oiled-up, shirtless love gods~~ boring businessmen? Your coat is GORGEOUS! I would wager as gorgeous as those aforementioned fried cheese balls are bound to be!

Nothing, with a capital ABSOLUTELY happening here. I took Ewan to Burger King for lunch. I had a whopper with bacon and cheese and he had a double cheeseburger. That's about the most exciting thing that has happened since I watched the last of Lost in Austen.

I wish I could be more entertaining. I shall endeavour to have some sort of adventure this evening, perhaps of a sexual nature, to keep you entertained tomorrow.

Lurve,

S
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Parmesan and Parsley Fritters

2008-10-09T14:22:00.000+02:00

Dearest Darls,

You are so good to me! This recipe sounds goddam wonderful. Fried cheese and I were meant to be together.

Am otherwise having a big, hairy, jobbies sort of day. Thank God internet is back on in the office, although I don't know wot I'll do with it, as I'm totally afflicted with writer's block and can muster not a jot of enthusiasm for writing anything.

I do hope you are suffering equally, so we can mutually support each other in the Enormous Shouldering of our Simultaneous Existential Crises.

Wot you 'avin' for lunch then? Tuna salad sammie, apples and yoghurt (peach! peachy!) for me, yumbo.

Meaningless Love and Existentially Empty Quisses,

Antipo

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Friday in Munich: Working Hard and Missing You

2008-10-03T14:33:00.000+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Have been working the room since 8 am, have not voice left, am nicely pissed on champagne, and my colleagues tell me that a neverending stream of my admirers called for me at our booth and were disappointed I was not there. Red NZ coat with black stockings and stilettoes a huge success.

I would rather be sitting on your balcony drinking tea with you though. Handsome men are mere playthings to me, but soulies are for evah!

Femme fatale kisses,

Antipo

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Road to München

2008-10-02T16:06:00.000+02:00

Dearest Antipo is on the road again. By the wonder of sext message, I give you her stories:

On The Road Again

Dearest Stay at Home Ms Mac, heavy is my heart as the company vehicle bears me and my four colleagues towards Germany and away from my office computer, my life line, my electronic conduit for our daily passionate love letters. One tiny silvery lining to the dark cloud of my despair is that we will be passing through Zürich shortly! So rather than merely sending you kinetically a cordial "Bonjour!" from my brain to your Salutations Receptor, I will be geographically close enough to send you a full-on, technicolour, powerfully throbbing soulie air-kiss as we whizz past. I dare say the emotion of this fleeting moment may be strong enough to knock you off your feet. Indeed, you may need to forego any plans you had for hoovering or laundry and have a little lie-down, followed by a restorative cuppa. I shall personally inform Mr Mac that I have given you the morning off. Please blog this and all subsequent communications, and bear in mind I will be checking for typos. (Editor's Note: I'm not sure the lovely Antipo meant the last sentence to be blogged. I left it in so that you, dear reader, can see the conditions under which I slave.)

Later:

(See above editor's note for this one too) Your Christmas bonus hangs in the balance! Stand by for next update from sunny Lake Constance. Jet-set love and backseat driver kisses, Antipo xxxxxx

Later:

OMG! I'm in Switzerland! Can you hear me yodelling? It's all pretty spires, red-gold leaves and brown tiled, sloping roofs. Have just crossed the border at Basel and am only 80kms from Zürich. Put the kettle on and position yourself on t'balcony with a white hanky. Ooops! I just remembered that you probably haven't done the laundry yet- better make that a floral patterned or dark-coloured hanky. The company of my.....

(Editor's Note: darling Antipo must have used a lot of swear words in the next bit of her sext. The satellites simply refused to wing her message towards me. It better not have been her marriage proposal to me!)

UPDATE by Antipo:

It should have read:

The company of my colleagues is proving surprisingly tolerable, even if they do demonstrate a tedious passion for discussing politics (not global or even US, but merely local - yawn), and display a truly shocking indifference to Posh Spice's new haircut, or whether Brad and Angelina are splitting up.

In compensation, I enjoyed a fabulous lunch of fried fish with green and yellow courgettes (most aesthetically pleasing), chocolate gateau with raspberry coulis and a glass of Bordeaux.

Must leave you now as my nails urgently require filing, and an annoying thread dangling from my sleeve is calling out to be stitched up, before it drives me batty.

Busy and important kisses,

Antipo xxxx

Antipo Has Left The Building

2008-10-01T14:56:00.000+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

You will just have to get along and solve the planetary problems and global economic collapse without me, for I am leaving for Munich on business tomorrow. Don't expect to hear any intelligence until next Monday at the earliest!

Sadly I will not be lifting steins of Weißbier to your good health at the Oktoberfest, I shall merely be making my company lots and lots of money by shaking a lot of hands, handing out gazillions of brochures, and sashaying around the trade fair in a tight red dress. If all else fails, I may have to resort to good, old-fashioned sales talk.

Prost!

Germanic Liebe und Küssis,

Antipo

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Bum Shot

2008-09-29T20:50:00.000+02:00

Why yes, that is a red satin heart I sewed to my French knickers, thank you for asking.

Showing My Bum To The Entire Village

2008-09-27T18:17:00.000+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Sorry to be so uncommunicative since our hot Madonna date. But I have an important engagement today and tomorrow, namely showing my bum (along with twelve other dancers) while dancing the Cancan at the Festival 1900 in my Quaint Village.

Bum shots coming tomorrow!

Naughty love and saucy kisses,

Antipo

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Your Pain au Chocolat was Delicious!

2008-09-22T18:17:00.001+02:00

Dearest Breakfast-less Babe,

I know when I sexted you to tell you that I had ~~stolen~~ forgotten to give you your pain au chocolat back, I said I stick it in my good mood book along with my Madonna ticket, but I got hungry and greedily gobbled your half-gnawed pain au chocolat somewhere between Strasbourg and Basel. My train-neighbour didn't know that it wasn't me who put the bite marks in it earlier in the day so I thought it was fair game.

It was delicious. Your saliva glands produce sweet bodily fluids!

I don't know about any of your other bodily fluids because you spurned my amorous advance in bed last night so cruelly. I was dreaming- your hairy legs made me think you were one of Madonna's gypsy mates who was serenading me in my slumber.

You might want to watch out for that.

S
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ps. It's not snoring, it's a rhythmical deep breathing.

You Broke My Heart and Stole My Breakfast

2008-09-22T15:04:00.000+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Little did I know when I got you onto the Suisse-bound train with only three minutes to spare at 8:20 this morning, that my pain au chocolat was still nestled comfortably in your handbag!

Ah well, I must be philosophical. 'Tis but a small price to pay. I was a Madonna concert virgin. You nursed me through my deflowering. We even shared a bed for the first time! Only wish I had shaved my legs recently... Was that your snoring that rattled the rafters, or mine?

I sloped into work extremely late on this sunny morning with sore but happy feet, and the strains of Madonna's heavy metal version of Hung Up still ringing in my ears. I think I nearly pogoed myself into oblivion last night. I wanna be a Rock Chick now.

How can real life possibly compete after the magic of Sunday?

No time for debriefing now. Let's RDV later Babe.

Stunned love & kisses,

Antipo
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I Wasn't Kidding About That Red Feather Boa!

2008-09-22T14:42:00.000+02:00

AND PIGS ACTUALLY FLEW

2008-09-19T11:56:00.000+02:00

Dearest Darls,

Pinch me, Babe! Can’t quite believe the good news. I am so relieved to have the tix in my hot little hand this morning, that I literally feel sick. Am like a survivor of post traumatic stress syndrome.

Tossed and turned all last night, thinking of Plan A, Plan B and Plan C, ad infinitum. Got to work very early, looked up tracking code of parcel on La Poste website: “Erroneous code”. Heart sank even further, which physically should not have been possible.

Rang the girl I know at the sorting office, started wittering at her at top speed my plans A, B and C, and she cut me short with “HELEN SHUT UP! I’VE GOT THEM!”

Wiped a grateful tear from my eye, jumped in car and burned rubber to get to post office. Signed for them with trembling hand. Am too afraid to be parted from them now. Have them down the back of my jeans, pressed against my skin. Will sleep with them inside my pyjamas tonight. How will I be able to shower tomorrow? The tix may be quite smelly by Sunday. Never mind…

:-D

2008-09-19T09:33:00.001+02:00

I've Got A Baaaaaad Feeling

2008-09-18T15:30:00.000+02:00

Dearest Bitten, Bloody Stumps,

I feel absolutely sick Darls. No news from La Poste. The Lovely Maureen rang the ticket vendors and they said they can't issue new tickets, as ours were standing places and had no seat numbers.

La Poste at my end said IF the packet has gone missing, they will reimburse 458 euros (the tix were worth 170). So that will be an incredibly tiny consolation (and no doubt weeks of paperwork and wrangling). At least I will be able to buy us all a good meal out in a swanky Parisian resto.

I just wanted to do something nice. I just wanted to bring some happiness to someone, in these war-torn, environmentally compromised, financially corrupt modern times of ours. I just wanted to sprinkle some of my magic fairy dust onto your sad face and make you smile again. You got a cute way of talkin'. You've got the better of me. Just snap your fingers and I'm walking, like a dog, hanging on your lead.

I've crawled into a small black hole, am curled into a ball and am sucking my thumb. Please wake me when the nightmare is over.

Sadface kisses,

Antipo

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The Lovely Maureen...

2008-09-18T15:23:00.000+02:00

...should be able to contact the ticket people and have the tix replaced. Remember when Kiwifruit Fi lost her U2 tix in the move from the Big Smoke to Cold Comfort Farm?

Maybe it's time to get in touch with the ticket people. Maureen should have her receipt from payment for the tix, no?

Bloody hell. Post offices are the devil's work!

S
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More Bad Language

2008-09-18T15:22:00.000+02:00

The Lovely Maureen will go and see her Post Office again this afternoon and challenge them with:

"What are you going to to about it?"

If she gets no joy I will ring them up every hour on the hour until I can speak to the manager and calmly, but angrily explain the heart-ache and peptic ulcers that are now being created at this very minute.

The parcel is insured, so I will get some money back if it is lost completely, but I don't know if I can claim anything if, for example, it is delivered in two weeks time, or at Christmas, or in 2011.

Mother-fucking Post Office cunts. I am livid. Cannot relax, cannot concentrate on work. What I really hate is that

(a) I wanted to bring you a tiny drop of golden pleasure into your sordid, wretched, despondent little life

and

(b) an almost complete stranger, i.e. The Lovely Maureen, is having to run around on a work day, using up her precious time, for us. She doesn't even know if we are worth it! I will be buying her a MASSIVE drink or three this weekend when we meet her, what ever the outcome.

So, three people's stress levels are being crurrently hammered by one fucking idiot who didn't use his bastarding bugger bar-code scannie-thingie correctly.

You know the bitter irony is that if I had asked her to post them in a normal envelope with a normal stamp I probably would have rec'd the tix two days ago.

Shit. Arse. Bum.

Antipo

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Fuckity Fuck

2008-09-18T11:51:00.000+02:00

Dearest Darls,

The Lovely Maureen gave me the registered code number for the parcel containing our Madge tix and I looked it up online. "NO INFORMATION CAN BE GIVEN ABOUT THIS ITEM".

Great. I ring the local sorting centre (I know a girl there!). She looked up the code for me and confirmed nothing arrived here, and they can't even track the movements of the parcel because somebody at the Post Office in Maureen's village must have forgotten to "flash" the parcel, i.e. scan it with his bar-code scannie-thingie.

I will beat the crap out of somebody at La Poste today if they still haven't come... What pisses me off so greatly is that one pays extra for registered & insured letters, precisely in order not to be sweating with nerves and worrying about the fucking document arriving on time. Fuckers.

Antipo

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Red Feather Boa on Standby Anyway

2008-09-18T10:53:00.000+02:00

Anything yet?

Am biting my nails down to bloody stumps waiting.

Still, I'm going to pack my red feather boa come hell or high water!

S
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You Might Want To Re-Book Your Toenail Cutting Appointment After All

2008-09-18T10:51:00.001+02:00

Dearest Darls,

The Lovely Maureen and I are in a joint wee tizzy. She posted me the Madonna tix last Monday (insured, registered, with computer surveillance, tracker dogs and requiring my signature upon receipt).

La Poste in my village has confirmed this morning that nothing has come to them yet, so Maureen is checking with La Poste in her village to see if they have actually left the vicinity yet, or if their postie sat down for a coffee break sometime and hasn't got up again.

I am working tomorrow so can be here in the office for the postie if he comes, but if the tix don't arrive until Saturday morning I will likely miss the postie. He will then leave a coupon in the office letter box to say "Hello motherfucker! I called with your Madonna tix, but you weren't here! Sorreee, but you can pick them up on Monday...."

Of course I could spend my Saturday morning hanging out in an empty office, waiting for the postie, instead of cooking up a storm of tempting delicacies for you in my kitchen as planned.

At least Darls, if the tix really do go missing for ever, we can still have fun in Paris on Saturday night, sitting in the gutter outside the Stade de France and swiggin' vodka from a bottle in a brown paper bag, right?

At the very least, we'll get a good blog post out of it, right?

Chewed-fingernail love and stressed-out kisses,

Antipo

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Sweating Bullets

2008-09-18T10:51:00.000+02:00

Dear La Poste,

I HATE YOU.

I HATE YOU.

I LOATHE AND DESPISE YOU.

You have taken years off my life.

Yours in cold, stony, black, putrefaction and hatred, with absolutely NO love and definitely NO kisses,

Antipo

P.S. I will never post a single letter ever again, as long as I live.

Did You Say Tallest and Strongest Friend?

2008-09-16T16:16:00.001+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Actually, Sébastien Chabal is my tallest and strongest (not to mention hairiest) friend, so I invited him first.

But he said he's busy next weekend. He's really heartbroken that he couldn't go with me. I think his little wifie wants to go and pick out furniture at Ikea, or somewhere equally glam.

Short love and tiny kisses,

Antipo

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Dearest Ray of Light,

2008-09-16T13:31:00.000+02:00

SwissPost/TNT have been and gone. And I missed them. I know. By about 4 Minutes. Really, You Must Love Me. I just Hung Up the phone from them. They will return zwischen 1400 und 1600 heute nachmittag. Note to Self: Must remember to pack my bloody passport on Sat morning. Paris is Miles Away. In another country, even.

Rain required an emergency change of footwear this morning. Had to wear trainers to walk in. Now I have blisters on my heels. My wet-tissue paper feet haved foiled me again. The cloven hooves of old have returned. I do hope blisters are in Vogue.

Is the proofreading going well? The months just fly past, don't they? I hope I didn't make your brain explode with my few words of German earlier in addition to the proofreading. I'm sure it hasn't killed you and you'll live to Die Another Day.

Will write more later. Must go and do some shopping for Patrick's b'day cake(s!!!) for tomorrow. I'm Borderline beside myself with urgency.

Give it 2 Me, baby and write soon,

Sticky love and sweet kisses,

MM
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Yawnzzz Sorry, what was that?

2008-09-15T15:39:00.000+02:00

Dearest Little Star,

I shall check my diary. I think my Mr Mac's cooking a roast beef on Sunday. It was either his roast beef or washing my hair, I'm not quite sure what I was supposed to be doing this weekend but I suppose if it's so very important to you, then I could, theoretically, drop everything and come to Paris and hold your hand at your first Madonna concert.

Of course, being an old hand at Madonna, I won't be spend any time at all looking forward to it or dreaming about being there in front of a Goddess between now and then and I'll probably just spend the whole two hours just, like, yawning and stuff while you sit on my shoulders, whooping and flashing your tits at the cameras. (Don't think I haven't realised that I'm your tallest and strongest friend, darling!) There certainly won't be any jumping up and down in antici........... pation or wringing my hands with glee at the first bars of Like a Prayer. No, sirree!

OK, book me in.

With hard candy love and sticky & sweet quisses,

MM
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ps. Give it to me, yeah! No one's gonna stop me- now!

Pre-Emptive Strike

2008-09-15T13:10:00.001+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I don't suppose you would squeal with delight if I told you The Lovely American K-Sam had organised with The Lovely Scottish Maureen to get me two tickets to Madonna in Paris next weekend, and that you would be my Number One Hot Date to go with, and that The Lovely Mr. Mac has already given his spousal permission?

Nah, didn't think so.

Oh well. I'll sell them to the highest bidder, I guess.

Love and kisses,

Antipo

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Warning: This Post Contains Many Calories And May Be Hazardous To Your Health

2008-09-11T10:45:00.001+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac, Soulie and Fellow Foodie,

I am delighted, naturally, that you so willingly responded to Dana and Kay’s vegetarian meme, but I am also slightly miffed that I will not be able to do it myself, as you have written almost exactly the same creative and witty answers that I was planning to use myself.

Except of course that I am sophisticated enough to enjoy such delicacies as quinoa, okra and spiced tofu, and not make spiteful and immature jokes about them.

It was a very timely meme, as it reminded me that I was too tired at the beginning of the week to tell you of the gastronomic splendours which came into being in my kitchen last weekend. After a rather long creative drought, I got my cooking mojo back and whipped up the following:

- chicken in tomatoes, capers and white balsamic
- grilled spiced tofu with Vietanamese coleslaw
- grilled salmon steaks with sorrel & sour cream sauce
- endives, red grapes and gorgonzola salad, dressed with white balsamic and walnut oil (droolsome)
- Australian choc & macadamia cookies (made with vast quantities of brown sugar)

Today my colleagues are having a wee office party with drinkies and nibbles, so I baked some savoury mini-muffins:

- a very moist, bacon, celery & grainy mustard filling, topped with sesame seeds
- and an even moister cheese muffin filled with chopped grilled red peppers and sprinkled with paprika.

And I roasted some pecans in butter, maple syrup and cayenne pepper (Nigella). They are so very good, I might have to make you some and put them in a pretty jar for your Christmas present!

I have just made myself extremely hungry, so must bid you adieu for the noo.

Love and Calorific Kisses,

Antipo

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P.S. Do you have any idea as to why I dreamed last night that your lovely husband and The Lovely Gomad were disco-dancing in short, tight, silver hotpants at an office party at Christmas time? I am baffled. Analyse away, my Dear!

Love Your Buns!

2008-09-05T13:14:00.000+02:00

Dearest Darls,

Am slowly working through my blahs. Yesterday I had bad news from a good friend of the ‘My hub has left me and shacked up with my former best friend’ type, and this morning I had wonderful news from another friend of the ‘We are finally pregnant after many years of trying!’ type. So the good cancels out the bad, but my wee emotions are all over the place, like scurrying, stoned rats on the cosmic roller coaster of life, man.

I just started Kate Atkinson’s Emotionally Weird , last night and she made me laugh right from the first paragraph. I’m currently in Dundee where the main character went to university, but I will soon find masel back on the dreich wee isle off the west coast of Scotland, whence she is narrating the tale.

My favourite review of her book states: 'Sends jolts of pleasure off the page…' , which is the downright truth. I so thoroughly enjoyed her first novel Behind the Scenes at the Museum, that I had to go back and re-read it immediately upon finishing it. Ditto for Human Croquet. Kate Atkinson is a dazzling novelist with a wicked sense of humour and she throws in gobbets of black humour all over the show. I wince even as I’m laughing, when I read her. I am saving all these books for you and will lug them over in my suitcase next November.

My God, but your buns sound amazing! Book me and my stomach into Chateau Mac for November, and programme the oven too. I would love to sniff your buttery, yeasty-smelling fingers right now though.

Lunch is a micro-waved, cheaty, bought meal of pasta, salmon & green sparrowgrass tips, which I have customised with masochistic lashings (ouch!) of black pepper, and it’s reet tasty.

Wish you were here!

Love and TGIF kisses,

Antipo

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P.S. But won't the Swiss Culinary Police arrest you for having made Sunday bread on a Froiday? I am rather afraid for your physical safety now. Please phone me if you need bail money.

One to Perk You Up

2008-09-05T12:06:00.001+02:00

Hello darling!

I know you've been having a blah morning due to your internal alarm clock beating the electronic one and waking you up by 4am. I hate waking up too early. Hate it, I tells ya! So I empathise, baby! Hoping your blahs have worn into an all round better mood by now.

I am rather excited about the whole idea of these Kate Atkinson novels ~~you keep harping on about~~ you're rather enjoying these days. Is the new one set nearer to Edinburgh (south of Fife) or Dundee (north of Fife)? Please do start slipping little Scottishisms into our correspondence, I shall be beside masel.

When next you come to our humble abode, I shall be able to astound you with my newly learned skill- Zopf making! A dear Swiss friend very kindly came over and gave me a master class in Swiss Sunday Breakfast Bread this morning. I am over the moon with my efforts; not only did I use fresh yeast for the very first time, my dough rose above and beyond the rim of the bowl which was so bloody exciting I can't begin to express it in words (except I just did). I felt like a mother who just gave birth. But without the swollen genitals and leaky boobs. Although, other parts of me were slightly leaky but I'm not willing to elaborate. Only minutes until my new buns come out of the oven. I hope to be able to take a fabby picture of them for that other blog.

Ooooh, my hands smell of butter and other, lovely, bready aromas. Did you know this is the first time I have ever baked bread?

Sorry to carry on like a pork chop about the Zopf, lovey. I'm just ever so slightly excited by the whole idea of me not being completely useless.

Tra la la la la.....

Bready hugs and buttery kisses,

S
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The Blahs

2008-09-05T11:38:00.000+02:00

Dearest Ms. Mac,

Am having a grey pubes sort of day.

Bear with me.

Antipo

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Wot I Had For Lunch Today

2008-09-04T13:46:00.000+02:00

Dearest Exotic Ella-Ella-Ella,

I can't possibly compete with your taste-bud-tingling and sophistimacated luncheon. I hastily scrabbled round in the fridge this morning and threw some left-over and decidedly ancient - but I shall call it 'aged' - rice in a Tupperware pot, added left-over fried courgettes, chopped up a tomato - sorry, pomodoro - and an avocado and flung them in, drizzled over some bottled vinaigrette and called it A Salad.

Bof!

It was rather bland after last night's exquisitely flavoursome dinner.

So tell me more about the gorgeous Portuguese singer's cleavage. I do think it’s a shame that the allure of a lovely bevvy like Spumante is somewhat tarnished by the connotations of the “spew” sound. Mind you, we can get around that problem by pronouncing it correctly, I suppose, Spoo-manté, can’t we? Ooh, hark at me! I love being a know-it-all.

And have you any new and hilarious jokes, while you are at it? I don't pay you to sit around and entertain other people you know!

Tired love and boring kisses,

Antipo

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Dearest Hangover Helen

2008-09-04T13:04:00.000+02:00

Oh my stars! You know you should never indulge in more than half a babycham & lemonade on a school night! What were you thinking, you party animal!

I too spent the last evening imbibing immorally. Mr Mac and I were invited to a Portuguese wine tasting where we met some lovely people and listened to a Portuguese guitar band accompanied by a fabulous female singer with long, blonde curls and a gorgeous cleavage. When she wasn't singing, we were treated to the crooning of an older, white-haired gent who sang with one hand in his white trousers pocket while he used the other to express his passion and love for the music.- But not in a rude way, you understand. The wines on show were mostly of a fruity, summery, light variety and were perfect for seafood. Lucky us, there was also food- the most garlicky garlic bread spread with a divine tapénade, deep friend crumbed prawns, roulade of smoked salmon and, Mr Mac's favourite, chicken satay skewers to name just a few of the finger food dishes. Needless to say, Mr Mac and I enjoyed the evening immensely, even the bit where I got told off for not speaking more German by a friend of a friend. I must admit, my favourite wine of the evening was an Espumante. I loves me some bubbles.

To continue on with today's culinary theme, I have not yet opened my bottle of white balsamico but your recipe for chicken with a tomato & caper sauce sounds exactly the right occasion to uncork that baby. One of our readers, Sylv in Biel, suggested a while ago that white balsamico is perfect to use when you want the flavour of balsamic vinegar but not the dark colour.

What did you have for lunch today? I'm just about to tuck into a plate of oven warmed baguette, lightly buttered and topped with vine-ripened pomodori seasoned with mediterranean seasalt and cracked black pepper. You might know it by its other name- tomato on toast.

With amor e beijos,

MM
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Hungover Thursday

2008-09-04T11:04:00.000+02:00

Dearest Darls,

I do hope your life doesn't seem suddenly all flat and boring after the Madonna excitement you knowingly inflicted up on yourself. You will keep indulging in these thrilling episodes, won't you? And then have to suffer the anti-climactic consequences....

I am somewhat of a self-harmer too today. My lovely American neighbour was due to pick up his kids' pet rabbit from my house last night, and I - quite by chance - prepared Nigella's fabulous soy, mirin & brown sugar-glazed salmon , with basmati rice, bok choi salad and individual banoffee pies around dinner time. Two glasses of chilled rosé, lots of laughs and one very late night later, and I found myself up at the bumcrack of dawn this morning, attempting to sew buttons, with shaking hands and pounding head, onto daughter's Back to School For Real outfit.

That will teach me!

Or maybe not....

Fragile love & kisses,

Antipo

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She's Not You!*

2008-09-02T12:41:00.000+02:00

Dearest Love,

I always leave your house feeling all mushy and quivery. I simply never wish to cheapen our love by exploiting it so crudely on the blog. Madge will come and go but you are for ever. (Dear Madonna, this is all just to massage Antipo's fragile ego. Please forgive me, you've been in my life since 1983, don't leave me now or I shall simply expire from a crashed & crumbled cardiac organ. Sxxx)

NMTR from this end either, unless you count the fact that James left me in a red haze of anger yesterday morning when he went to catch the bus to school. His birthday is in October. He may not reach it. Honestly, Mr Mac and I are ready to cut him loose. Perhaps we should send him to your house for some short sharp shock treatment. Or maybe I'll just send him to the Bastille and leave him to rot. (Dear James, I would never do that. But you don't know that so shape up or ship out! Mumxxx)

Today I have gone out for a walk in the deliciously warm sunshine and been and done a spot of shopping in Aldi. My God, the glamour is never-ending. Still, could have been Lidl. How would I have handled that? Anyway, I now have the entire afternoon free (if I ignore the ironing). I intend to make a salami sanga and either sit back and watch some trashy tv or sit on the balcony or both. Decisions, decisions! Couldn't you come and join me?

With mucho love and molto besos,

MM
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*This title only really works if you know Madonna's Hard Candy album. Nick it off Mr Grumpy-but-Handsome. He's bought a copy, hasn't he?

Danger! My Life Is All Sex & Rock 'n' Roll (NOT)!

2008-09-02T10:58:00.000+02:00

Dearest Your Madgesty Ms. Mac,

Wot a life-enhancing experience that concert obviously was for you! I wish I'd been there to see you go all mushy and quivering! Am a tad jealous that you don't wax quite so lyrical after a visit to my house. Must try harder, obviously!

NTR from my boring, miniscule life. Am reading lots and lots of porn on the innernet to stave off the boredom of my "job" and gigantic yawns. Just for the record, my new favourite expression is ‘writhing in a haze of sexual pleasure…’

Will seriously have to look for a job worthy of my cunning linguistic talents when the kids are just a little bit older. I hope I don't find myself saying that every year.

Daughter was adorably excited about going back to school today and last night carefully chose her clothes and accessories, and enlisted me to do her nail polish. This morning I had to straighten her hair with her new ceramic hot thingie and I had a go on my locks too, just for fun. I like (short and) curlies best though.

Write soon and save me from myself.

Antipo

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Moanday Report!

2008-08-25T09:50:00.000+02:00

Dearest Dear Old Sausage,

Are you back to normal today with the weans back at school?

I am still all out of kilter, as the child-free weekend (kids went to the beach for a week with the wrinklies) allowed me to laze around in dirty clothes in a dirty house, gorging on telly and fast food. I was sleeping at odd hours and am so used to the lack of responsibility that I'm freaking out somewhat at the thought of them coming home tomorrow.

I'm going to have to be all grown up and mature-like. Eek! I'll have to plan things in advance again and do laundry and cooking and stuff. Gawd help us all.

Frightened love and kisses,

Antipo

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