Bitch on the Blog

December 15, 2015

Tidying up

Not all, some facets of life are beginning to disenchant me.

You can’t ring someone without them knowing it’s you before they pick up the phone. There goes surprise right out of the window.

Some years (26) ago in a moment of madness, egged on by Fiona, a colleague of mine, I had my palm looked at. In a tent. Not that location matters. Same difference. Everything went swimmingly till the reader came to a particular line on my right hand. She literally threw it [my hand] back at me, looked at me – AGHAST –  and, after wishing me “a good life”, showed me the exit in no uncertain terms.

I didn’t think about it at the time. I am used to drama. Most my friends are in the theatrics one way or another. Not so much exaggeration but caricature being their signature tune. In my case, and I am not on the stage, don’t take seriously now REPENT AT LEISURE.

Have come to horrible conclusion. Either send chocolate (or other currency) now or come and see me in the loon’s bin. I’d recommend the former since the latter won’t be fun – for either of us. Cro – you may send me a goose. Keep the liver.

To top it all, today I have had two telephone conversations which have confirmed all I have never wanted to know: The end is nigh.

No, I am not about to die, I am just ending.

Hugs, hisses and howls,






  1. I have very little idea what you are talking about except that it seems a little dire!
    I hope things come right for you, Ursula.

    Comment by kylie — December 15, 2015 @ 20:53 | Reply

    • Kylie, It’s the tragedy of my life. No one appears to have any idea what I am talking about. Not one for wasting others’ time I hang my head in shame.

      Thanks for your good wishes – projected into the future. Puts things into perspective. Which is why people who recommend living in the moment do wear me down at times. The past is the past – more often than not a pity (I like my past), future being an unknown, meantime – in the moment- you hang off the cliff on the tip of your broken fingernails (which is slightly better than the skin of your fingers) whilst in the grip of laryngitis (meaning you can’t call for help because laryngitis leaves you speechless).

      All the best,

      Comment by bitchontheblog — December 15, 2015 @ 23:28 | Reply

      • well, i did have some idea that you may be referring to your finances. I know exactly how you feel, here we are a week before Christmas, I have no money and no prospects and just minutes ago my doctor queried my very low iron level. Now I have to have investigations for any number of things I really dont want to have and certainly dont deserve.
        Lets both hang on by our short fingernails. The safety net will come

        Comment by kylie — December 16, 2015 @ 00:06 | Reply

  2. Oh dear me, that sounds drastic, not to say theatrical. The end is not nigh until it’s nigh. Luckily we never know what’s in the offing tomorrow. Or the day after.
    I once (or maybe twice or thrice – I am a sucker for nonsense of this kind) had my palm read. Can’t remember what was said, but if it was bad it certainly came to pass. On the other hand, bad things happen even without palm readers. Did you have to pay yours? By the way, good things happen without palm readers too.

    I suggest you stop having telephone conversations; except, of course, with those people you know are going to be well disposed towards you. Otherwise you may hear something you won’t want to hear. I am also a sucker for not listening to unpleasantness. Or giving up when I’ve hit that brick wall once too often.

    Finally, what are you on about?

    Comment by Friko — December 15, 2015 @ 21:02 | Reply

    • What I am on about, Friko? I am destitute. Void. Void of lucre. In ten days’ time my goose will not have fattened enough to warrant slaughter. Pass the chicken wings.

      Have come to dire conclusion – not to be rectified in nine days – that money buys you a goose and happiness.

      I am determined – very. By way of example: Two days ago the Angel (that’s my son) brought home a Christmas tree (at 0230 hrs) he found abandoned in a car park nearby. The Angel and I are very emotional about Christmas trees (to be continued …). Anyway, there he was three beers plus down and one tree later when – in the brutal light of one light bulb in the hallway – we realized there was a reason for this tree to be abandoned. It [the tree] had had it. Awful. Bloody heartbreak. Probably stored the wrong way. Wilted right down the middle. Anyway, back to me never ever giving up, I took – in absence of secateurs – my poultry shears to those branches that were serviceable. What we have got now ain’t a tree but it is a result. The Angel looked at me and remarked how very little it takes to make his mother deliriously happy. Indeed, Friko, we now have a fir crown with our ancient golden Christmas tree Angel topping it in all the glory of trees in years gone by. Don’t cry. I have the gift of seeing that which can be salvaged even beyond salvation. The gift I don’t have is how to procure a goose without bargaining power.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — December 15, 2015 @ 21:59 | Reply

  3. You missed your calling — you have such a flair for drama! We miss you when you don’t write.

    Comment by cheerfulmonk — December 15, 2015 @ 21:15 | Reply

    • Oh, Jean. I didn’t miss my “calling”. One of the most devilish to beset my life that people think they know what’s best for me. Correction, what’s devilish is that I used to listen to people who thought they knew what’s best for me. YOU, Jean, may think I am not exactly a soft touch, fact is I am malleable.

      Drama. Once upon a time, I was about seventeen, my history teacher, also head of dramatics at the school, was doing a voice test among his pupils to find the best voice for the main character. He played the tape back to some of his peer group none of them with any allegiances to us, and what do you know? I got the bloody part I never wanted. My best friend who was dying for the role (she is now a well known actress) had to be passed some smelling salts to get over the shock of her only landing a minor part. Anyway. Whatever. That’s my motto. So ask me to sing I’ll sing (unless it’s a national anthem), ask me to take the main role to keep the casting director appeased I’ll bloody learn the lines, and become a right old diva (turning up two minutes late for rehearsals). On the night and a few more it all went swimmingly. How I managed to hold my nerve I do not know. On the way up the stairs to the stage I died a few deaths whilst tripping over my skirt. I was so convincing impersonating a Jewish teenage girl back in the dark ages I was judged a star, but my calling the stage wasn’t. Adulation leaving me cold.

      Anyhow, Jean, thanks for missing me. I try and make up for blogging absence by leaving my calling card in comment boxes.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — December 15, 2015 @ 22:47 | Reply

  4. “or come and see me in the loon’s bin”

    Very much curious what sort of place this is. And I have been missing you too.

    Comment by Looney — December 16, 2015 @ 04:05 | Reply

    • “Loon’s bin”. My dear Looney, this minute I am awaiting pest control. I gave those mice all the chances in the world and no food lying around. it pains me to take drastic action but there is no reasoning with the plague. You may wish to rework my last sentence into a biblical reference without setting foot into an ark. Imagine what would have happened to the world if God, in his wisdom, hadn’t sent them to Noah two by two. In this day and age it is so politically incorrect to say what I just said I might as well go and drown myself and join Darwin.

      Missing in action,


      Comment by bitchontheblog — December 17, 2015 @ 10:07 | Reply

  5. I hope that whatever it is that is bugging you disappears quickly and that you stop having such thoughts!

    Comment by rummuser — December 16, 2015 @ 09:45 | Reply

  6. Oh dear. it all sounds rather dystopian – may some goodly goose find you, may telephone calls be productive and supportive and may some filthy lucre find one of your pocket linings.


    Comment by wisewebwoman — December 17, 2015 @ 01:55 | Reply

    • Thank you, WWW. Before I come back to subject in hand I will confess to blushing. Why? Well, correct me if I am wrong, but reading some of your back catalogue yesterday I shall be damned if you aren’t the …… in Grannymar’s comment box I took exception to [you that is – Grannymar doesn’t talk to me] years and years ago. Oh my god. I have no idea what I said but, being a person of principle, I’ll stand by my old sins. How funny how I then latched onto you – in your wise web’s woman’s disguise. Shows you: Don’t write anything off till it’s wrecked.

      Where were we? Your comment. Lying devotedly at George Orwell’s literary feet I never thought I’d see the day someone would mention “dystopian” applying to me. God damn it, woman, I need to nail it before it nails me.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — December 17, 2015 @ 09:59 | Reply

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