Another day.......

No other dollar!!

When it rains, it pours they say. The other day the TV in the front room died..oh well, get the smaller one from the dining room, never mind. Today IT died. I can live without chocolate, survive without chips.....might keel over and die without TV. Might go mad and pull out my purple hair if I can't watch Big Brother or Eastender or Harry and his bucketfull of dinosaurs.

Hoorah then that we have a kind of store that rich people donate things they no longer need, like monstrous 39" TVs because they have a plasma now thankyou, the kind of store then sells such donations to poor people like us who are then grateful and can pretend that they actually went to a big shop and bought a big telly that takes up the whole front room and can pretend they are at the movies. We almost did but then H suddenly thought of a way to get sound out of the first TV to die and it WORKS- we can't adjust the volume, it is almost loud ( and sort of makes my mouth water in a bizarre amost tooloud kind of way) but it works and so we don't have to sell any of the children on Ebay to fund the purchase of new TV that we can't live without. Life is alright. Ish.

My crocs arrived, life is more than alright. Jordan says they look like shoes a mad person might wear, just right for me then.He also told me to be careful when I left the house lest the fashion police arrest me. Little does HE know that half of Hollywood are treading the walk in these. H thinks they are miraculously light and a bit comfy looking. I think I am in heaven. I walk around as if on air, knowing that actually I am so in the groove and trendy it would be embarrassing but for the fact that I am in England, Devon even, where it won't be known that these are indeed beyond cool and hip until about 2019.
So, with my purple hair and khaki clog like footwear I am strutting my 44 year old stuff with pride. I am very nearly a hippy, I rather like the freedom that gives me. I almost bought some organic veg but the bank have all my money so I might be forced to grow my own from seeds I will be forced to filch from a garden centre.

Alas, I can't quite claim true hippy lifestyle though, because the boy just won't use the potty. I use disposable nappies. There is something So offensive about a 3 year old boy childs pooh that no matter how many hemp seeds I might eat, how purple my hair is, you just won't catch me emptying a terry towelling nappy over the toilet. No siree, disposable it is and wrapped in a plastic carrier bag that will also take about 300 years to rot in a landfill site somewhere.
I shall be a visual hippy only, in the things that count I shall be as unhippy as it is possible to be. Now I am off to eat my dead animal in a delicious terriyaki sauce.