Nah, Me Speeka Da Engrish…

I have this ‘thing’ about English.

It’s English. It’s my belief the Americans borrowed it, therefore there is no such thing as American English. No. It doesn’t sit right with me.

However, I also have a little problem.

See, I can spell well. The words I cannot spell, I look up and then no-one can tell I can’t spell them (clever, huh?!), but I can never, ever claim to be a grammar whizz, yet I write for a living. Oops!

It’s simple stuff see, like the apostrophe that gets me. It apostrophe s – the apostrophe splits the words up into it is…or something. Oh fuck it, I don’t care. Well, I do, but I don’t. Not now anyway, because right now I get to explain why I absolute loathe, abhor, and detest text speak and shortened words of any form at all.

Strangely, and much unlike fellow blogger Shreya (, I love acronyms. Possibly because I worked for a company where we worked with more acronyms that I’d had hot dinners, but that’s another story entirely. Actually, it’s not a story at all – who’d want a story about company acronyms? Anyway, I digress!

Today’s Daily Prompt was all about writing the language of the future. Now, my creative mind has almost, but not quite, run out of juice. I can’t come up with the language of tomorrow, I’m not even clever enough to come up with new words that don’t sound ridiculous, but what I can say is this:

Despite being a current fan of the use of profanity and a lover of the words fuck, wanker, bitch and oh shit, I am trying my absolute hardest to stop swearing like a fisherman’s wife and wish desperately that the language of the future could revert back to what it used to be like 50, 60, even 70 years ago, more reserved, polite, refined and genteel, without venom, malice and spite.

For the future, let’s tone it down
Unchain our tongues, unfurl our frown
Curse no more, let us be pleasant
Kindness bring into the present
I promise I will try my best
No swearing will leap from my chest
Gone from mind and gone from head
Weary words were put to bed
And in their place a calmer tone
Nicer to say on the phone!
Keep it clean and oh so light
Even if you’ve had a fight!
Remember you can still be happy
Bite your tongue, don’t be snappy!
Idle thoughts will wash away
Take a breath, they will not stay
Careful now not to slip
How hard its been not to trip
Oh, now they’ve really made you mad
How silly! That was very bad
Still you manage not to utter!
Hush! Don’t do it! Don’t you stutter!
It’s too late, you mumble with a start…
Tart…you silly, silly, tart.

See, told you I like my acronyms 😉

Submitted to

EDIT: Those eagle eyed readers will have noticed I forgot to write about why I don’t like shortened words and text speak. It’s very late where I am, I am tired, so I am excusing myself for my shoddy work. So, here it is…here is the reason.

Because I don’t.

Sometimes I Don’t Update My Facebook Status Because I Just Don’t, OK?

Surely I’m not the only person in this world who writes long, ranty Facebook status’ and then thinks better of said long, ranty Facebook status, and deletes it? Before it ever makes it to centre stage I mean, you know, before you click ‘Post’.

You see, I have a conscience and I have common sense. Get this…I also have an understanding of what Facebook should actually be used for! Uh huh! That’s right!

Come on, hands up, who gets pissed off with constantly seeing:

“Insert Person’s Name You Identify With” – Aaaaarrrrggghhhh.

…and that’s it.


“Insert Person’s Name You Identify With” – I am so fucked off.

…no more info at all.

It drives me crazy! These posters turn me into a mental person. Factually, that last sentence is incorrect as I am most likely mental already, but it makes me do the very opposite of what these types of post lure you into doing. I label them “Attention Seeking Posts”. Only my closest of friends will ever get a response when they post like this. It also makes me damn careful not to post anything like it myself.

I do not crave attention from Facebook. (Blogging is different! Us bloggers all crave attention in a different way…I got that bit covered already so ner).

Then you have your “Look at what I had for dinner tonight!” status updaters. What The Actual Fuck? Never have I seen such utter shit in my life. Unless I’m looking at a turd of course. So, ok, if you’re a culinary expert, a TV chef or going on GBBO (Great British Bake Off for my non-Brit readers) or posting another picture of how fabulous Burgerry is to Instagram (ok, ok, I am a sinner) but dinner? Every night? Really? Enough already peoples?! I am going to block you very soon, it’s getting on my tits that much.

Pictures of babies and children. Some people really do get riled by this, but I sit on the fence, partly because I have three (gorgeous – totally unbiased, my children are lovely *snigger!*) children and post many pictures of them on FB, but also because I have some friends who have kids who do actually look like they belong on a farm. The parents look like pigs too. Don’t know why I have them as friends…don’t really like them all that much to be honest and I know they don’t like me either – funny thing isn’t it, Facebook. So yeah, I like the pictures of cute babies, the ones where their faces are covered in chocolate, or their bums are stuck in the air when they are sleeping – ugly kids can get the fuck off my screen quite frankly.

Today’s blog post comes from wanting to post a status update on Facebook, but having the common sense and wherewithal not to do it. I have written countless amounts of status updates ranting, raving and cursing and each time I have written an update like it I have grit my teeth and deleted the bloody thing before it took pole position on my timeline, because d’ya know something, the fallout and the repercussions, not just to me but to the people I love so much, of posting to the world how I feel right in that moment, in the bubble of anger, frustration or sadness, simply just isn’t worth it.

Backspace/delete/select all-cut are such good friends!

Patiently Waiting

I knew I wanted to write today, but now I’ve opened the page to let the words escape my overflowing mind, they seem to have vanished, so I’ll just write about what is happening at this exact moment in my life.

3,500 miles away my husband and three children, plus sister and her fiancé (because they live with us), are moving home. This past week my husband has spent packing boxes in between standby shifts and being called into work with the minimum of notice. He also had our daughter’s birthday sleepover to co-ordinate on Thursday, which he intended to be around for, but work called him in. He’s a pilot. This is part of our everyday day life that’s we have to work around. Usually there is two of us, but this week he has had to manage alone. I say ‘alone’ – what I mean is, without me. We have a live-in maid who cleans the villa and looks after our children while we both work full-time jobs. It’s really not as extravagant as it sounds – aside from having the house cleaned, it really is no different to having to pay for (very expensive), childcare in the country we used to live in…except the care isn’t as good, and I get help with the housework. So, yeah…the long and the short of it is, I’m not at home.

I’m in England. I’m in the South of England, and to be even more precise, it’s known as the Garden of England. I’m sat in a green, leaf patterned electric recliner chair, next to a hospital bed. I’m not in a hospital, but in a hospice – a hospice provides specialist palliative care for patients. I’ve been here for the last 5 days, coming back and forth the hospice, back to the same room.

My mum is the youngest of 10 children; 7 brothers; 2 sisters. 2 of her brothers have already left this world, one to a brain haemorrhage when he was 35, and the other committed suicide. With such a big family we have lots of things that can, and do, go wrong, and boy, does the shit hit the fan in this family.

It never rains, it always pours.

Our family has suffered a huge amount of sadness and turmoil over the years. Loss of life (haven’t we all experienced that at some stage), accidents – terrible, life altering accidents, sexual abuse and relationship breakdowns. Yep, never rains in our family, it always pours.

1999 saw the end of the life of a very dear lady, close to my heart. Christmas Eve saw my nan taking her final breath after a relatively short battle with cancer. I say short, we don’t know how long she had cancer for. Once we found out though, we had 3 months and she was gone. Her demise was quick, and I’m glad she didn’t have to suffer long. She had bone cancer that spread to her brain. Sometimes I’m sorry she never got to meet my children, but I’m a believer that she can see us and she knows them…she knew them before I did. They were born after she passed.

Fast forward to today. I’m sat int he same hospice as my nan passed away in, except I’m now sat next to my aunty, and yes, she also has bone cancer. Originally she has breast cancer that was misdiagnosed. After a mastectomy, it was simply just too late to catch the rest and here we are today. She’s laid in bed after I don’t know how long of fighting, still holding on, when really it’s time to leave this world behind.

Over the last 5 days I’ve watched her become more tired, more confused and more out of it. She’s gone from just being able to feed herself to needing help, and to speaking to nan.

It’s almost time, we all know that. It’s just when, and until when arrives we have to wait, patiently…