Brummie Broad Revealed to be a Mad Old Bat With Issues

I feel I should introduce myself before continuing with my bloggy ramblings, just so you can picture me (as Catherine Zeta Jones perhaps, or Susan Sarandon, I'd like that). If you were to meet me you'd think 'Oh she's not bad for her age [if the age was somewhere around 73], she seems okay.' But don't be fooled - while I might seem perfectly presentable on the outside (if a bit scruffy), inside I struggle with the concept of normality. I blame hereditary genes, I was destined to be constantly confused.

I am a woman of indeterminate age (which usually means early forties, like really early forties, like barely forty at all, in fact let's not mention the F-word, lets just stick with 37). Three tall, drop-dead gorgeous sons who have all now abandoned me, and I'm also a grandmother (at a ridiculously young age). Married to barking mad Yorkshireman who ensures that life is never boring - a bit surreal sometimes, occasionally lung-wrenchingly hysterical, but never boring.

I used to be a city slicker in Birmingham city centre. I was quite good in my 'high-powered' job, wearing my furry pin-stripe suit and balking at the price of a Starbucks coffee, but I lacked the capacity to repeatedly stab people in the back so left in a bit of a huff, vowing never to return. I now work at home as a self-employed transcriber, merrily typing away and hoping I can:

(a) pay the bills and not end up living in a cardboard box on the corner of Colmore Row
(b) not go completely round the bend, and
(c) fight off the tax man, who's a greedy little bar steward.

Atheist, laid-back to the point of coma, and calm in a crisis because it takes me a while to figure out what's going on. I drink and smoke (sharp intake of bronchial breath as I stand up, coughing and wheezing, for my right to ingest nicotine). I'm also an insatiable bibliophile, my house is a veritable tinder-box of literature (not all of it good, in fact, a large proportion of it is snobbishly regarded as not being literature at all, but who cares, I like it).

Film buff, particularly British films, particularly comedy, particularly anything written by Richard Curtis, particularly anything with a hunky man in it. I'd list the hunky men and provide photographs, but I don't think the internet is big enough.

I used to ride motorbikes, variety of, ranging from a 50cc Honda which was bomb-proof to an imported 1000cc Virago which was a complete sod to manoeuvre and which I repeated dropped on parked cars because it was so berluddy heavy. Had to give it up when ex-husband made off with all the bike tools (along with the knowledge of how to use said tools), when I felt too old to be dodging the 'sorry mate didn't see you' cars on the A38, and when I couldn't sing Meatloaf's Bat Out Of Hell with any conviction any more.

I hate bad service, and I hate shopping, loathe shopping. I have no dress sense whatsoever and consequently look like a bag lady who's tried to scrub up a bit. I can't cook - not won't cook, can't cook. No sense of smell, you see. Anosmia. I don't know anything's burning until the firemen hack down my front door like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. That's my excuse anyway. Fortunately, Hubs used to be a cook in the merchant navy and is brilliant in the kitchen ("Funny how you and your sister both ended up with men who could cook," said Marmee once. "Not a coincidence, mom," I told her, "We had check lists. Can he cook? Check. Tall and handsome? Check. Financially viable, own car, not hauling too much baggage behind him like Marley's chains? Check.")

Whilst I dislike the idea of growing older, I do like the fact that I've reached an age where I don't really give a crap any more. Very liberating. Means I can say what I want and people will just regard me as a mad old bat without resorting to violence. Means I can tell young men they're 'terribly handsome' because they'll never in a million years believe I'm hitting on them (even if I am). Means that I can finally release my tenuous grip on 'fashion' and just wear the clashing 70s stuff I've always favoured.

Means I can just be me without having to justify myself to anyone. Fab-ulous.

So that's me in a nutshell (emphasis on the nut). Take it or leave it, I'm not bothered, I'm used to being alone.