Bitch on the Blog

April 2, 2011


Filed under: Fortune,Human condition — bitchontheblog @ 10:02

Depending on how much my welfare is close to you heart here are the good/bad news: I am NOT being detained at Her Majesty’s Pleasure. Such are my charms (make that total incompetence in this case) that fine was reduced to a third (£220) payable in £5.00 instalments per week. I did offer to do community service instead to clear debt in one go, but they don’t do that round here.

It was all quite impressive, and VERY formal. On arrival a jovial warrant officer, Mr Pepper (of all names), granted me court bail – free of charge because I was already there. How glamorous is that? BAIL. And why being given bail when already in their claws? That’s drama, and I like a bit of drama, particularly when your stomach is already churning.  Trust the English to make you smile when in despair. Later a motherly type (the usher) will invite you into court room before the magistrates enter. She will lull you into sense of security with aa tissue box at the ready. Apparently women in the dock cry, men get ANGRY. I didn’t cry, I most certainly wasn’t angry. Just embarrassed because in answer to certain questions I had to repeatedly reply that I had no recollection whatsoever. I didn’t even know which years they were referring to. Was I deep frozen at the time? Their file shows that I was one of the CHOSEN in police clampdown on traffic offenders (Feb 2009). However, they were not able to tell me what the original offence was; only that I had defaulted on a police fine. They could have told me I’d eaten my grandmother I’d probably believed them. Anyway, clearly well disposed towards what the tide had swept into their dock they were lenient. And to think of all the contingency plans I’d put into place back here at the ranch. It is just so typical: On one hand I never believe things will go wrong ; on the other I always prepare for worst case scenario like stock piling millions of rolls of toiletpaper in case we run out of trees – that sort of thing. And, after my mad displacement the day before, I then – again typical and as so often proving an unnecessary expenditure of energy – spent a lot of my night mulling over how to talk them out of destroying the last strands of my sanity. I should have just slept instead.

I was sworn in. How cool is that? In my case not on the bible. Seriously, usher asked me whether I adhere to any religious beliefs. That question, with all its philosophical implications, threw me off course for a moment. No. So there was no book. Just the “I hereby solemnly swear ….” Oh, the melodic beauty of those words. All of them.  And as you know I love “the truth and nothing but the truth”. And then there was “Court Rise” on entry of those our happiness depends upon. The magistrates (three) sit down; luckily I was compos mentis enough NOT to sit down too – defendants do STAND.

However, for those of you who’d have liked to see me swing from a tree: All is not lost. On my way to court I kissed the tarmac. Indeed, I fell – flat on my face. How I do it I do not know; but do it I do. Sad result that I don’t trust my feet any longer (or my glasses, come to think of it) . So, yes, Sweethearts, as they say in the motherland: The bird twittering with high hope in the morning will be the cat’s dinner (roughly translated). Pain started kicking in about two hours later just as my case was called. Made wincing noise every so often which added music to proceedings. Had to explain that I didn’t do it for effect but that yes, indeed, I had had – in all likelihood – just broken my arm (same one, second time in a row).

Makes one ponder. Not just on luck. No sooner healed and mended no sooner broken. Considering that for the first fifty years of my life I was NOT a walking disaster area there must be a lesson in there somewhere. And think of the lingo when you translate the literal to the symbolic: Broke. Fallen. Stumbling through life. Pride comes before the fall. Flat on your face. Take it on the chin. Omelettes and broken eggs. Wood and sawdust. Anyway, so morning in court, made it back to Southampton on train – heroically considering  but wanting to be back on home turf ; afternoon and evening in Accident & Emergency. Am pumped full with pain killers which is what allows me to keep you up to date. Still, at least my wrist held up; elbow not so. I can see it now when they dig me up in 500 years. I just hope they won’t draw too many conclusion about the world 2011 when disecting my skeleton. On a side note (there is always one): I don’t like skeletons, never have. They look so mangy, so boney, and they grin, in a smug type of way. Seriously.

Yes, so upshot being, and confirming one of my views on life, that particularly when standing tall you will take the odd tumble. Son observed on my return, quite rightly, how irritating that good news (my not being shackled) immediately overshadowed by NOT so good news (ie my being shattered once more). Still, that’s life and if that is all that is blighting mine then I am a very lucky person indeed.

Everlastingly yours,




  1. Thanks for the update. As you know I’ve been thinking of you a lot and have been checking my e-mail for news. I was starting to be concerned that the Bitch on the Blog was now the Gal in the Gaol. Welcome back! Sorry about the arm.

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — April 2, 2011 @ 17:41 | Reply

    • Now there is a brilliant title for a new blog! Gal in the Gaol. Complete with alliteration. And so much less trying than Bitch on the Blog.


      Comment by Ursula — April 2, 2011 @ 17:59 | Reply

  2. On My god! Fell on the tarmac & rebroke!

    If it’s any consolation, I slipped during a hike & fell on my elbow. It’s making my shoulder hurt & that arm won’t go up very far. Also my neck hurts to use. Don’t look to the right or left & definitely not DOWN. I try to take a negative & make it a positive. So that is god telling me to hold my head up, which improves my posture greatly. I look at my feet when hiking which carries over. (Ask Jean how I’ve been trying to improve my posture for years.)

    As for Mr. Pepper who granted you court bail, you might promote him to Dr. Pepper (a soda pop drink). We promoted Mr. Pepper to Dr. Pepper who did some carpentry work at our house. My friend who has very “good taste” recommended him. She orders her furniture made in other countries, from shine y page magazines. Dr. Pepper was doing work on Gene Hackman’s house at the time which made him more expensive.

    Anywho, you have your good humour to carry you through. Love ya

    Comment by bikehikebabe — April 2, 2011 @ 18:20 | Reply

    • BHB, I never take consolation from others’ misfortune, even if it matches or worse than mine: Two breaks shared do not halve but double the pain. Have now decided to walk on my hands since feet clearly not up to the job.

      Whatever you do, don’t follow my example till tried and tested.

      You mention posture. That’s when it pays to be my mother’s daughter. Or having to carry a pail of water across the desert – on your head. Luckily my mother – on passing – only used to push me (hard) between my shoulder blades; at one point resorting to broomstick slid through both elbows behind my back to keep me sitting upright when doing homework. Or try balancing three of your favorite tomes on your head prancing round the house like the Queen of Sheba. Hoping your little brother won’t bump into you.

      No slumping,

      Comment by Ursula — April 2, 2011 @ 19:25 | Reply

      • My mother didn’t say anything. She had poor posture & wanted me to be a young her. (She was pretty so who cares about posture.)

        Comment by bikehikebabe — April 2, 2011 @ 19:32 | Reply

      • Aagh! Talk about relationships with mother…some of her tricks mentioned there…and I’m male! There was always the threat of nails through the back of a dining chair…slump and you get prodded! I think I believed she’d do it!
        I think we have touched on the posture, or lack of it, of today’s young females. As for young males…don’t get me started…a disgrace to the human race or at least to the English nation. Wearing a jacket/blazer with denims demands that they slouch everywhere they go!

        Comment by Magpie 11 — April 2, 2011 @ 22:02 | Reply

        • Be kind, Magpie, as befits you. The slouching in young men has more to do with their height than attitude. Truth is that everyone is shorter than they are. Obviously I can only talk from experience of my son and his circle – and their are well mannered, educated, so they don’t slouch on purpose(what pretentious crap is that? True nevertheless).

          Do you mind? Denim? I wear denim and leather! I do not slouch. I crumble. Son has no choice but to bend when giving his mother a kiss on her forehead (less expenditure of energy than a kiss on the cheek). In reverse it’s where I get my stretching exercise from. I don’t want to go all sentimental though will: How nineteen years fly by. One moment you hold your boy in your left arm doing eveything else with your right, the next you spend (years) on the carpet pushing match box cars around making up stories as to where they are going, putting together Duplo, Lego and Playmobil, reading fairy tales, watching Pingu (I love Pingu) and what do you know, fast forward: The Angel, blond and refreshingly switched on, towering over me. So, anyway, when you come to Southampton: I am the reddish blond with a Gipsy skirt and a leather jacket. If short sighted and in a cast.


          Comment by bitchontheblog — April 2, 2011 @ 22:39 | Reply

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