Bitch on the Blog

October 5, 2017


I need a reference point for reasons – in the context of this post – not important. Let’s just say that I need to put my mind to rest. Not least because my mother makes me wince every so often when she “remembers” things in my life she wasn’t even present at better than I do. Now? Now I don’t say anything any longer to correct her. Not since, about ten days ago, I sat next to a lovely lady two years my mother’s senior who was switched on, inquisitive, funny, lively – except every fifteen minutes or so she’d ask me whether I had any children. Having covered the subject of the Angel’s existence several times during our two hour wait my penny suddenly dropped. OH MY GOD. So this is how decline (ever so barely noticeable) manifests itself. No wonder my mother recently apologized to me for upsetting me profoundly. Unfortunately, what she apologized for wasn’t what I had taken offence at. WHAT the …? I left it. Thanked her for her apology. I don’t think she is interested in detail any longer. Main thing is that everything is hunky dory. “All I want is to be good with you”, she says. I do have to rejig my mind set when talking with her in future.

The reference point I need is for a period of utter chaos in my life (ca. eight/nine years or so ago). A few details a little hazy. A couple of days ago I realized that I remembered something that is, chronologically, not possible. So, anyway, and do laugh, I phoned the veterinary practice and asked whether they keep records from many years ago. Yes, they do. Great. Can you please tell me the date when my cat Bouncer (reference point) was put down?

Bloody blasted hell (and only my refined upbringing stops me from using all the swearwords I can muster to express my utter disgust at what the world of information has come to). They can’t give me the date of my OWN cat’s death over the phone because of data protection. Short of my date of birth which they didn’t request I gave the receptionist all the data she needed to conclude that I am not a Russian agent spying on myself. No doing. On top of which she kept calling me “My Lovely”. What’s wrong with the British? Emotionally stunted they proceed to call complete strangers “Love” and “Deary”.

I am now in the recovering position. Next stop on my journey through life? Extracting my own teeth.




  1. I am currently reading Ken Follet’s Eye of the Needle in which the main character is a German spy ‘die Nadel’ (‘The Needle’)! Your story somehow reminds me of that character and a couple of other English ones who use “Love” and “Dear” quite liberally.

    Comment by rummuser — October 5, 2017 @ 12:28 | Reply

    • “The Needle”? Sounds painful. I know this because I used to sew – sew by hand that is. Acres of fabric.

      And then there is the “eye of the needle” bringing camels to mind. A subject most fascinating and a parable I will leave to Looney to explain.

      Greetings, dearest,

      Comment by bitchontheblog — October 6, 2017 @ 08:48 | Reply

  2. My dentist told me about a patient he had who didn’t wish to pay for an x-ray before tooth extraction and the dentist refused to extract it without the x-ray. The patient went home and did it himself.

    Comment by Kylie — October 5, 2017 @ 12:36 | Reply

    • Who was the patient? Crocodile Dundee? Mind you, Kylie, and it never fails to amuse me, in England a dentist will ask you to pay upfront before they so much as look at you. Extras optional. I find it uncivilized. In the motherland they do dentistry work so splendidly that when they send you the bill (after) you will gratefully pay their most outrageous demands without so much as a murmur. You just take out a second mortgage instead.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — October 6, 2017 @ 08:49 | Reply

  3. “Love”, “My LOver” (Devon), “Dear”,”Dearie”, “My dear” (Devon and Cornwall…particularly the latter),”Ducks”, “Me ducks” (lots of places), ” ‘Bor” (possibly short for neighbour; Norfolk)… just but never over the telephone… Some, like Dearie, are more appropriate for anolder person to a younger or , and here’s the rub, from a younger person, say a nurse or carer, to a much older person in their sixth or seventh Shakespearean age ,or maybe heading that way… but never other than face to face. Oh, and never used by a man….except in and advertisement perhaps.

    Comment by magpie11 — October 5, 2017 @ 19:57 | Reply

    • “My lover” does take the heart out of the biscuit. I find it vulgar beyond tying myself into knots.

      You, my dear Magpie, obviously know more about these semantics than I do; I can’t help feeling (correct me if I am wrong) that it’s a (British) working class thing (affectation) that, at best, can be called “inclusive”, ie you are one of them, human that is. Whilst I don’t particularly like what sounds a little too familiar from a stranger I do appreciate it’s worse being deferred to as “Sir” or “Madam”. Having said that, and whilst I believe there is no class system as such in the motherland, I do come from a country of great formality. Albeit that the last two generations beginning so lax an approach to it, on my return to their shores I am, sometimes, slightly taken aback. Examples on request.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — October 6, 2017 @ 08:45 | Reply

      • It’s not just a British thing, it happens here in Australia, too.

        Comment by Kylie — October 6, 2017 @ 09:00 | Reply

        • Where do “cobber” and “mate” come in?

          Comment by magpie11 — October 7, 2017 @ 13:22 | Reply

      • Well, I was quite sahken when in a pub in Falmouth a local (chap) called me M’Dear… so I withdraw the “never used by a man”…. I sometimes feel that , in the words of the song, “I’ve been everywhere man. I’ve been everyhwere.” Mind you Scotland is unknown to me so what they use I have no idea.

        Have just remembered mydiabetes nurse, who is Welsh. She insists on calling me “Darlin’ ”

        You may be right with the idea of it being essentially a working class thing. but those who manage to lift themselves from the working class would be expected to drop such usage… I don’t think it’s an affectation on the part of the working classes. It would perhaps be understandable given the close knit communities they hail from….

        How about “Sweetie” or Sweet Pea”? Now they are really cringe worthy….

        Comment by magpie11 — October 7, 2017 @ 13:21 | Reply

  4. They can’t give you the date of your own cat’s death? That’s bonkers. Do they think it’s top-secret information that might alert the tax authorities to undeclared income?

    “Emotionally stunted they proceed to call complete strangers “Love” and “Deary” Indeed. Though in my experience it’s mostly men who bottle up their emotions. It doesn’t apply to any of the women I know.

    Comment by nick — October 10, 2017 @ 12:54 | Reply

    • “Bonkers” indeed. Let’s add unreasonable and churlish.

      As you say, Nick, general perception is that “it’s mostly men who bottle up their emotions”. I’d say they show their emotions differently to women.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — October 10, 2017 @ 23:11 | Reply

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