Yorkshire At Last

Ey Up,
Just to let you know I am back in my home town of Keighley for a week. Back in the big smoke on Easter Monday.
Happy Easter for then by the way - bet you are wondering what happened to me giving up smoking for Lent? Well, it lasted a day, then resumed and lasted two days. Now I am back on about 5 smokes a day, so I guess I will not be getting an egg this Easter, and the priest will probably dish out a fair few Hail Marys if I even attempt to set foot into a confessional box. I am a looser, an addict, a chaver, pikey git.
I was out for dinner with Sarah's boss Glyn and a few mutual friends on Thursday and I managed to go through a case of wine, a wonderfully sumptuous glass of Port and a brandy without even thinking of a fag. However it was the coffee that did it. I had to make several excuses up just so I could justify lighting up in such lovely none-smoking company and succumbed to sucking the ass off a M Light even though my head still yells "Think about it biatch....It is your giving up for Lent thingie". I began to wish I had given up something easy like eating dog pooh sarnies, but oh no, I decided smoking would be my goal for this religious occasion and I failed miserably. Why is it so hard? I usually manage to do what I say I am gonna do without any problem, but it seems the enemy Mr nicotine put a stop to that. Now I feel even more miserable as I have let the Lord down! I am a good Catholic girl by the way, but have chosen not to do the church thing since the nuns stopped whipping me with their rosary beads at 1st school. I do however still indulge in the odd pressy at Christmas and a few chocy eggs at Easter, and of course my children will have to endure the same bible bashing, I mean studies as I did.
Anyway, I am here at my grandparent's house, just finished the washing up after being fed a delicious granddad stylee spag bol. Oh what it is to be home. I have been sleeping in my old room and still love routing through the cupboards looking for family treasures and memorabilia, such as 1st swimming certificate for 10m, and old GCSE course work and the infamous family photo albums.
I must say the chair at the top of the landing still gives me the willies as it has lion's feet and a weird carved back, I feel eyes following me round the landing. Probably spy cams installed by granddad. He seems to be more technically minded than me (would not take much though), I am actually blogging from his PC right now. Bless him, he has a printer and a scanner too. Deffo more hardwear than me. Note to me. Buy a printer when one gets a job.
Talking of which, I am still on the look out for a temp job. I am not surprised there are so may homeless in London. The streets are paved with empty McDonald's wrappers and Starbuck's cups. No work in the temping field. Therefore I am back to the old trade and am digging up grandma's garden for some hard earned pocket money. I wish I had done the audition for Corrie all those years ago- I would be famous right now and not worrying about the growth speed of snowdrops up here in comparison to down South. They are well into their blooming season in San Fran - Mum gave me the low-down on her bulbs the other week. Mind you an American snowdrop is as big as a sunflower here - Typical, they have to be bigger. But in this case not necessarily better - Don't you prefer the tiny little specimens?
Ok I am loosing the plot a bit. Must say I have been reading a lot lately as well as dealing with loads of pants down to the knees builders who are doing work on the house. My life does not warrant a daily or even weekly blog. I am however open to jokes for the speech I am making at Leanne's wedding on April 16th - any suggestions? Please, I only know a few 'Knock Knock' jokes, the main one being the old Dr Who one - which although very topical right now is about as ancient as Camilla Parlker Bowles Chief Bridesmaid.
See Thee,
Jo x