Claudsville Blogs and Biog of a Bog Woppit

My name is Claudine West. These are excepts of this present life as me. 2016 was rather fabulous making music, writing, recording, gigging, doing the full time day job. Looking after wife and cats, mowing the lawn, breathing in the sea. Exploring Devon, Dorset and Somerset. Writing recording and releasing more meditation music under ‘Earth Tree Healing’…. Being happy. 

https://claudinewestmusic.com/ 

These are my blogs and here is the Kindle book.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Claudsville-Blogs-Biog-Bog-Woppit-ebook/dp/B00M5IR94K/

claudsville

Rat Race Trivialities, Travel, Utopia.

My day.

This morning. After being woken from my slumber, by having my knee farted on by Ange. Rambo our cat squatting to pee on our duvet ( in all the top kitty excitement after chasing our other cat Pattie around the house. He has normally taken to pissing on the bath mat, I can cope with this) Being watched and joined by both cats while sat on the toilet. Then having to collect our beer cans scattered about the street after a windy burst and wheelie bin misdemeanour episode!! (Dont want to look like lushes!! We’ve been enjoying 3% Bitter Shandies this weekend, Rock and Roll, I know!!)

Then commenced the joyful travelling. On public transport. The loudest voice on the planet was seated next to us. Life story, every single second recounted. We both decided headphones and loud music emergency!! I seriously am not a hearing loud talky person morning tolerator. In fact I dont want to talk to anyone first thing. Except my wifey of course.

Then upon getting the connecting bus to work. Having changed my usual route in Nottingham City Centre, disrupted by roadworks. (TRAFFIC CHAOS) YIPPEE!!!!! I’ve actually just sent an email to complain as my button has truly been pushed today. The 34 unilink bus driver seems to think that Jamming and Ramming as many human beings on a bus as possible, like sardines is acceptable. The fact that I couldn’t even reach a bell to ring, to get off. Had to forcefully squeeze myself past 7 people. Bearing in mind I WAS AT THE BLOODY FRONT!! Taking the Michael. I tell Thee! If I’d had a paper bag, I’d have allowed myself a panic attack. Instead I stood on someones foot while exiting, stuck my tits in someone elses face, and made a load of them get off so I could. A stop early , just for fresh air! Swearing under my breath. I’m sure some crap joke exists about how many students it takes to change a lightbulb on a bus to make £1 profit for NCT. Any accident, we’d be looking at mush, gore and lots of broken limbs, noses and toes. Good Job its on the A & E route. Ridiculous. I’m awaiting reply.

Then I had the joy of listening to ‘Red Wine’ by UB40. On of my most hated songs. Even if you got me rat arsed and drugged me up with happiness. I’d still hate it. AAAARGH

After a normal, pleasant working day.

My humous, carrots and sugarsnap peas began to ferment. Just ready for hometime.

Stupidly I didn’t get on the 1st bus. Hoping to get the city loop. My phone battery had died (Bummer) so no music and having to listen to people noise again.

Then 2 busses passed us! Not stopping, rammed. Shame they dont apply that principle going from City Centre in the mornings. Thank you, spectacular,  I thought. Then rammed bus came eventually. I stood examining a students ginger beard infront of me, Thinking, oooooh.uuuurgh.

Then gridlock. (I found out later accident) The whole of City Centre at a standstill! Times like this I wish horse and carts were still the main method of transport. Apart from having to shovel up turds off the road. The pace without hustle and bustle would be a chilled as the feeling one feels as a drunk musician on stage with an unresponsive audience. Easy.

I’ve just farted on Anges hand, next to me on the sofa. She’s just commented on the reverberation  through her bones.. karma is a bitch. Teach her to fart on my knees while spooning in bed.ha ha ha.

So then I get off as soon as humanly possible and walk into Town. I eventually got home, to our sanctuary , full of wind. Scared Ange to death, who was asleep on the sofa.

Now we’ve apparently got The Mary Berry Story to watch on TV! Our normality comes later. Making Jam and biscuits naked with just aprons. Watering the plants with cold tea from the pot. domestic joy. Doing the river dance in the living room.  Lighting a fire in the garden and throwing magickal herbs on it. Playing hunt the veggie sausage. Playing  murder in the dark/hide and seek in the loft without clattering the ladder. Planning our Mount Everest Trek, Saving the world. Creating voodoo dollies for the car boot stall. Chewing corn for gummy parrots, not tripping over the rug, not screaming when spiders attack, Inventing for the dragons den, growing our leg hair for winter…not….Laughing at people who think its about them!!

Or usually sitting in our home sauna with a plum in my mouth!

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Guitar and meditation, tuning into my Reiki Master later. We will sleep like logs tonight.  Oh well, back to the rat race tomorrow.

The Consequence of Brussel Sprouts

Night fluffs.
The farts, fuelled by Brussel Sprouts are horrific. When sharing a bed with the napalm filled arse of your soulmate and love of your life; the aftermath of a lovely Sunday Lunch at an Olde World Pub on an Island off the south coast of England. The laughter soon dissipates, unlike the gas. The nightmare of no matches at hand. Retching..coughing, nausea to the nostrils. Not doing my infected sinus/polyp party any good.
Maybe I’m still getting karma after eating a pizza that was far too mixed with things that didn’t agree. Me letting out a gift for the wife who was on the phone at the time. She then had to hand it to me while rushing off to the bathroom to UP CHUCK. That episode made me squeal and cry laughing. Our friend at the other end of the phone didn’t quite get the sudden Wacky Races Mutley impression and high pitch squealing occurring. It was cruel and naughty. Sometimes you don’t realise the power and potency of bottom burps. ( I did spend that night on the toilet during a band rehearsal, had to then crash in my bandmates spare room and recover after losing and flushing away all my internal organs .. While everyone else partied after) the only saving grace.. I was the only one without a hangover the following morning.
I move finally to my favourite memory of recents. Having gone to a carvery with my inlaws. Eyes bigger than tum. I felt the urge to “let one go” at the table, thinking silent and unnoticeable in a crowded noisy pub. At the exact moment of release. My arse amplified it to tuba volume levels, the pub went silent. Jaws dropped. My in laws; horrified. I cried laughing. After a good telling off. Their disbelief and somewhat giggling. I laughed even more. This still gets mentioned to this day. Threatened with being grassed up to my parents.. The lecture resulting would be horrific!
Life, since settling down in my middle to late thirties has turned into fart amusement competitions.
From dropping an air biscuit at the checkout in supermarkets, then walking off to “fetch something” nearly peeing my pants.. while my wifey coughs, heaves, tears streaming.
I hope I never follow through.. As you get older.. Things get saggy!

Flatulence can turn a blue sea brown

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