Challenge 46 - GO TO BINGO

What an adrenalin rush!  Dabber  poised over your sheet of numbers, beads of sweat forming on your brow, hand shaking in anticipation, brain creaking under the pressure of relaying high-speed messages from ears to hand, pound signs floating temptingly in front of your eyes, the word 'HOUSE' perched precariously on the tip of your tongue................'two and four, twenty four'......... sharp intake of breath - one number closer to the big win.........followed two seconds later by hatred and loathing for the player from Bromborough who snatched victory from my eager and more deserving grasp.

Completely and alarmingly addictive.

Mandy, Louise, Monica and I had set out earlier that night in curlers and headscarves for an evening of fun and frivolity, never imagining the consequences of dipping our dabbers (or should I say Fan Dabber Dozis)  into the cut-throat world of the Bingo hall.  After having been told on arrival at Gala Bingo, Bournemouth, that we were too late to participate - resulting in tears and tantrums -, we were thrown a lifeline by the lovely manageress, who allowed us to join in for the late session.  Once through the double doors of destiny, we took our table at the back, far enough away from the pros for our sniggers to go unheard.  Gradually we allowed ourselves to be seduced by the fluorescent lighting, the smooth velvety voice of the caller, the steely determination of our fellow gamers, the thrill of the chase.... and of course by naked greed!  We were hooked, and proud to be so!



All too soon it was over, leaving the bitter taste of disappointment seeping into our Pinot grigios.  We were the last to leave, long after the 'two fat ladies', the 'little duck' and the 57 Heinz varieties had left the building. Unlucky for some, clickety click.



Our spirits were lifted by a poster at the exit.

"FREE UNLIMITED BINGO - EVERY THURS AFTERNOON."

 Mmmmm......worth missing Countdown for?

Challenge 45 - See the Sound of Music

"The hills are alive, with the sound of ...........


......4 inebriated seventies schoolfriends, warbling out of tune at the top of their voices, dressed as rather dishevelled nuns!

We were not alone.  Several hundred other 'sisters' joined us, as did many curtain-clad Von Trapps, girls (and boys) in white dresses with blue satin sashes, brown paper packages tied up with string, wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings, and even a bright copper kettle.  Not your average Saturday night cinema audience, but a happy one!

I am rather proud of the fact that I have reached 50 without ever having to 'endure' the Sound of Music.  I don't do films where people spontaneously erupt into song (doesn't happen in my world), just as I don't do films in black and white (my world is colour and I like it that way).  Add to that saccharin-coated characters, sickly romance, over-simplistic anti-Nazi politics,  lederhosen and Julie Andrews, and it was never going to win me over, especially not in karaoke form.

Or so I thought!!!! Why then did I thoroughly enjoy the whole experience of Singalonga Sound of Music as much as I did.  Alcohol?  Definitely loosened the inhibitions, lubricated the voice-box and lightened the mood.  The company?  Certainly - seeing my 3 lovely school friends together for the first time in 25 years was a real highlight of my year - getting them to don habits and wimples in public was the icing on a rather scrummy cake.  The musical?  I think not.  Loved the experience but hated the film and the songs - definitely not one of my favourite things.

To Ruth, Lorraine and Tracy, I say "thank you", for your company and for indulging me with smiles on your faces. Heavens to murgatroyd - let's not leave it another 25 years - by then I will be losing my marbles as well as my debit card!


 To musicals I say "so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye!".

Challenge 42 - VOW OF SILENCE FOR 24 HRS (ATTEMPT 2)

8.00 am Cellotape is my new friend and ally in this challenge.  It is currently holding my lips together, and preventing me from speaking, sipping coffee, sneezing and yawning.  I am feeling confident.  Will update through the day.

10.00 am Cellotape is no longer my friend - refused to stick.  Moved on to sticky white labels with added advantage that they can carry an explanatory note - useful for casual callers such as Jehovahs Witnesses.  Slightly worried that might leave an unsightly red rectangular mark for posterity.

 12.00 pm Problem.  Have suddenly developed sinusitis and a blocked nose.  Mouth is clamped shut by sticky label.  Can't breathe.  What to do???

2.00 pm Iain says my sinuses are blocked because all the lubrication which normally helps me to talk is redundant and getting stuck.  Funny?  Sympathetic?  No and no.

6.00 pm Endured dinner without being able to contribute to the heated political discussions which are typical of Hogan family mealtimes.  Obviously everyone else was wrong and I would have been right if I could have joined in.  Could still snigger at the farting jokes which are equally as typical of Hogan family mealtimes!

8.00 pm Jaw muscle weakness setting in.

10.30 pm Barring some sort of ambush on the way to bed, I have made it.  Not a word uttered all day. I'd shout Hurray if I could.

Roll on tomorrow - I have some serious catching up to do.  Get the ear-plugs!

Challenge 44 - MAKE FRESH PASTA

I am not a natural cook, nor an enthusiastic one - I leave that to the more able and willing in the vicinity, ie Iain.  But I have secretly harboured a long-held desire to make fresh pasta - the pasta maker which has been sitting in my cupboard unopened and unloved for 15 years is testament to that fact - so this is the year to satisfy all desires.

Time to get the pasta maker out of the cupboard, blow off the cobwebs, and get down from the shelf the packet of 00 flour which has been sitting there every bit as long as the machine itself - 15 year old flour - is that a record?

So allowing myself one and a half hours, I closed the kitchen door on the world, put on some soothing music and set to.  I measured, mixed, kneaded, sweated, cursed, made a mess, chilled, blended, stirred, rolled, stuffed, cut, admired, cooked......

....and ended up with a perfectly acceptable plate of crab-stuffed ravioli.  How chuffed was I?  The family even ate it, without the usual "why didn't you let Dad cook it?" or "Why didn't we get a take-away?".



Just for the record it was 8.00pm at night - 3 hours after I started the culinary masterpiece - but the best things are worth waiting for.






Feeling like Delia and Gordon's love-child right now.  What next?  Souffle?

Challenge 43 - GET A TATTOO!

A classic, in terms of challenges, - but quite a big one for someone of my years and delicate pain threshold.  I had my lovely friend, Monica, there to hold my hand, though I suspect she was more nervous than I was.  My preparations were as follows:

- planning the tattoo - quite easy as I was going for the 'plastic paddy' look
- planning where it would be - quite easy as I wasn't prepared to reveal any part of my body that had not been on public display for the last 5 years, and also quite easy as I didn't want it on show at family weddings, christenings or funerals.
- listening to every other tattoo-ee about how painful it was going to be (rather like childbirth)
- 2 paracetamol
- 2 ibuprofen
- 2 large swigs of brandy (courtesy of Monica - she knows me well!)

The experience of being tattoo-ed was painful - sharp and stingy as you would expect - but strangely enjoyable, thanks to the support and Australian wit of my companion, to the large intake of brandy, and also to the skill and all-round loveliness of my tattoo artist, Becky.  She made me feel as if she tattoos eccentric geriatrics every day of the week, and made me feel comfortable and at home in a very alien environment.  I got a slight adrenalin rush from the experience and felt wonderfully rebellious and somewhat young.  Just for the record, she also said I had wonderful skin for tattooing, and that I was exceedingly brave.  I agree!



 I love my tattoo - it is now part of me - and a permanent reminder of my year of fun, adventure and madness.  When I am old and do-lally, and receiving a bed bath in some nursing home, I shall glance down at my tootsies and be reminded of a life lived well and enjoyed to the full - and a little smile shall cross my toothless gums! Job done!

Challenge 41 - HOLD A SPIDER

I am an arachnophobe - I was born that way - I can't help it - it's in the genes.

Spiders are sly, aggressive, enormous, fast, manipulative, hairy, tickly, predatory, and so very very ugly.  What not to be scared of.  Also, according to my niece, and I have to agree, they steal your soul and sell it to Satan.  Following my recent encounter (from which the spider emerged victorious I fear), my soul is well and truly packaged up and sitting on the shelf of the devil's workshop, waiting to be used for nefarious ends.


I had hoped that this challenge would mark the end of 50 years of spider phobia and evasion, but alas not.  I chose a small-ish beast to start with, with the aim of working my way up to something you could see without magnification.  But I spent so long (about 25 mins) screaming and dancing and hyperventilating, that my little spider in the interim grew into a tarantula sized black widow with a bone to pick and a chip on its shoulder.  My name was on both the bone and the chip.

After several aborted attempts, the spider was eventually tipped onto my outstretched hand, and lasted long enough on my skin for me to feel its tickle and its vengeance.  After 2 or 3 goes, I quit for animal welfare reasons and because I was having a heart attack.

Please feel free to watch the video HERE - I would recommend a magnifying glass and a slow motion camera to fully appreciate the horror of the event.  Just for the record, I have sacked the camera-man.

Spiders and I are still not friends.  Perhaps if they give me my soul back, I might reconsider!