Sorry Mum -but it's your fault

I have until the weekend to get away with this posting before I get an earbashing from my mum when she'll read it, roll her eyes then dial quick quick and verbally berate me in several languages.

But it is your fault. I am sorry but it is. There is no getting away from it. You taught me and it is a lesson I have learnt too well all to my cost.

Last year I posted (this), in fact almost a year to the day.

And so a year on with a bit of me time this morning I took a good look at myself. 

Lets start with what I am wearing
- new socks I bought for Thea who decided she did not want them so in effect a pair of castoffs
- a pair of bleach stained repaired cut offs that my mum sent me from a charity shop
- a stained t-shirt in the wrong size that was donated to my rag bin by a friend
- a zippered fleecey top that I detest but is warm
- a pair of second hand charity shop shoes currently serving as my house slippers but the elastic top has broken on one and they bear the marks of the attacks they have suffered at the beaks of the chickens when left outside

And so move on to how I look
- obviously no make up
- all the white hairs showing
- frizzy dry hair from lack of conditioning and going to bed with damp hair untangled
- unplucked eyebrows

What a depressing sight and all my resolutions for this year out the window again (although the cutoffs are a little looser after being frogmarched every day for 2 hours by my 75 year old neighbour).

Why oh why do I do this to myself - well I'll tell you why, it is because all the new things that I bought myself at the start of this year are all beautifully folded and tucked away on top of the wardrobe for best.  AGAIN. 

I thought I had cleared all the cruddy stuff out of my wardrobe but have still managed to find a few things lurking away in there and have gravitated towards them for my daily outfits.

Today once again I am determined to sort out the rubbish bits for recycling - this time starting with my socks - don't ask me why I keep these darned and colour washed bobbly socks when I have some lovely new pairs still with their plastic tags and price tickets attached - bought over a year ago but unworn, tucked away in the corner of the drawer - these were obviously supposed to be my 'best' socks.

Then I intend to go through my linen drawers - which now do not open for the amount of mismatched bed linen in there, you have to take the top drawer of the chest of drawers out to get to the lower drawers to remove a couple of layers before you can pull out the next drawer - and no - this is not an innovative way to store more things in a chest of drawers - this is just me keeping cruddy old rubbish and not opening the bedlinen still in its wrappings from when it was bought as a necessity last summer.

Following on from there I intend to tackle the kitchen linen drawer - I love novelty teatowels (well someone has to I suppose) and I have a lovely set that my sort-of-mother-in-law sent me from Cornwall.  Obviously they too still have their tags attached and I use the same set of orange (yes I know digusting colour but they were 3 for a £1.00 in Ikea) teatowels that I bought 17million years ago.  And yes they are also horribly stained and look dirty the second you take them out of the washing machine.

Speaking of washing machine, as I stood and hung my washing outside today I realised that I was busy arranging it not in the most favourable way to dry but by least embarrassing item.  Half of the washing line needs to go in the bin.

I am sick - I need help.  I don't understand why I think so little of myself that it is acceptable to me to go around in public looking like the reject bin of Oxfam.

To be fair to myself I have been trying to make more of an effort but find myself slipping back every week.  On Monday I could pass as the before person on Gok Wan but by Friday I am down to Bowery bum level again just minus the paper bag of Thunderbird.

I need a daily kick up the backside - and no - posting little positive thinking post-its on the mirror don't help - not being much of a morning person without a litre of caffeine in me all these little pearls of wisdom make me want to do is punch someone's lights out before dawn.

I have tried laying my clothes out before going to bed, then when I wake up in the dark to go to work and it is cold so I end up throwing on another grotty layer to keep me warm as I trudge up the lane then not shedding it as the day goes on.

When it comes to the resolutions I made at the beginning of the year the only comment I can make on myself is 'could do better'. 

Righto - I am going to go and dye my hair now then tame my straggling eyebrows - we have guests coming tomorrow and I don't want to scare them away!

Oh yes - and in case you were wondering why there is a photo of a chicken to accompany this rant - it is because yesterday she was one of the lucky ones to survive the cull.  One goose, two ducks, two cockerels and four rabbits found their way into the freezer.

It was a very bloody and gory day - and yes I did ruin a perfectly good apron and no I am not going to throw it out - I am going to wash it and keep it in all its stained glory until I find another one on sale somewhere - and yes - my horrid orange teatowels were also used and have now got even more stains - and yes they are on the line drying and looking for all the world as though they have been stamped into the muddy ground before they were hung up.

On a brighter note - oh - wait  - no - actually I am still using the army surplus green towels from the caravan in the bathroom instead of the lovely fluffy towels my lovely mum sent me last year - they of course are in the cupboard for best.  However as I intend to dye my hair red today these old towels are probably the best towel for the job of mopping up the slippages from the bathroom floor.