I have spent some time expressing what I hope this blog will become. What I had hoped it would NOT become is a rant…….but that was before to-day, and certain men behaving just like….. men!

Right now, if I never see one of the little darlings again it will be too soon! I was about to say words fail me, but they don’t. The problem is they are all very, very rude and writing them down has nowhere near the therapeutic effect of letting them spill forth, with a huge amount of bile adding a certain “je ne sais quoi” to the saying of them.

I do love swearing; I mean really love it. It has saved me, many times, from choking the living daylights out of some people. I just say ” fine,” ( through gritted teeth) and then walk away to somewhere kind of private, and  curse them to hell and back again( with bells on).

Now  apparently this  can worry/scare a few people, but, honestly, far more worrying are the folk that choke it all down, keep their mouths firmly shut and say absolutely nothing; not a word. All of us have a breaking point and I just hope I’m not in the firing line when these people find theirs.

Anger, and the ability to express it productively, is a huge problem for a lot of my female friends. Society still seems to have issues with women and anger. We are viewed with suspicion and labelled as trouble-makers. An angry man is a man with strong opinions and driven; an angry woman is a pain in the ass with mental health issues!

I think its in the world of the tarantulas that, when they have finished mating, the female then kills the male! Now, even I think that’s a bit harsh; she could at least let him enjoy a post coital nap before offing him, but I bet those male spiders know when to shut the hell up.

You know I may be fifty one but I still get that OMG feeling, from about 4 o’clock on, on a Sunday afternoon. I don’t know why as I actually enjoy my work ( lucky me) but still it persists. It’s a reminder that I haven’t got half the things that I should or need to have done over the weekend and less than a teeniest fraction of the things I would like/love to have done.

How come I could sleep the clock round when the alarm goes off on a weekday ( having not slept for most of the night) and then at the weekend, when its possible to lie in until, oh…. 8.00am, my back breaks and I have to get up. “Anyway, sure I could have a wash in instead of lying in bed couldn’t I??” This is the kind of stuff that runs through my ( and most women I know) mind.

I’m thinking of taking up golf to get over this. Men I know, who play golf, get up early at the weekends too, but not to put a wash in or clear up the Friday night Chinese carry out mess; no… they get up early and disappear off to knock a ball around a course, walk off their middle age spread and also the frustrations of the previous week. God knows, with some of the frustrations of my weeks recently, I think I could hit that ball to Dublin!!

How come Monday night isn’t as bad as Sunday night? You still have a workday the next day so why doesn’t it feel as bad, if not worse, because you’ve been at work all day too?

Not that long ago I woke up in the early hours of Monday morning, in a complete blind panic. I thought I had forgotten to do my French homework. Considering it was going to be about 34 years late, boy was that teacher going to be pissed!!