Mad As a Bag of Spanners

LEFT to my own devices without the steadying hand of my much better half I fear I would rapidly turn into one of those mad women who live on their own in a tumbledown cottage on the edge of the village, surrounded by books and animals.
I can see it now. I will be the one about whom mothers warn their children. "Don't hit your brother or Mad Woman will come and get you."
"Mcdonalds? No we can't go to Mcdonalds. If you carry on eating so much junk food you'll end up looking like that Mad Woman."
"You WILL do your homework. Do you want to end up like Mad Woman? I bet she never did a GCSE in her life."
Then the children will start teasing each other at school: "You love that Mad Woman, you do. She's your girlfriend, she is. You kiss her, you do."
I will be the one walking down the street pushing a pram full of old magazines and broken ornaments I have rescued from rubbish bins. I'll be wearing a moving and purring "fur coat", dogs following at my heels.
Underneath my "fur coat" I will wear every single stitch of clothing I possess.
My hair will be wiry grey corkscrews, my skin white with powder and my cheeks and lips stained vermilion with boiled beetroot juice.
I will laugh out loud for no reason, carry on conversations with myself under my breath and talk to walls and trees (if it's good enough for Prince Charles, it's good enough for me).
No one will ever visit me because my house will smell of cat pee and boiled roadkill with a subtle aroma of mouldering books in the background.
Legends will spring up about me having "treasure" buried in my garden and hordes of small boys with spades will creep in during the night and dig big holes and I'll never even notice because the garden is in such a state.
No one will dare hurt me because they'll be afraid I'll put a curse on them.
I'll spend my days sitting in front of the fire reading, stopping only to eat rabbit stew with foraged green stuff followed by, possibly, a half eaten chocolate eclair I've found in the hedge.
I'll never buy another scrap of make-up or stitch of clothing, making do with what I already have or what I can find in trash cans until the end of my days. I won't worry about money, what I look like, or have to watch my tongue. I will get up when I wake up and go to sleep when I'm tired, eat when I'm hungry and drink when I'm dry.
Then when night falls I'll be kept warm in bed by three collies and 25 cats who will all eat me when I die.
Can't wait.

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  1. All sounds good to me - I so tick lots of those boxes, although the white powder and beetroot juice seems far too much hassle to me.

  2. Get a caravan and a crystal ball and you'd be a major tourist attraction.

  3. It's only 7.20am and, not yet fully awake, I am wondering whether I could still fancy coming 'around your kitchen table' for breakfast. Yeah, okay, I might not eat but you could cheer me up with your wondrous stories. ;-)

  4. That's one hell of a sad future you have predicted for yourself. Surely you won't go down the drain as badly as that? What if I move in next door and keep an eye on you and prevent 25 cats from moving in? Cook dinner for you and make sure you have clean underwear? None of us do as badly on our own as we think we will. I am the living proof of that. I am the au contraire of the the pudding.

  5. I'd like that. Except I'd drop the cats and have more dogs instead.

  6. Did you see all that in a dream? ((wink))

  7. That's quite an ambition you have there, but mot an unworthy one!

  8. I remmeber when I was younger, when I used to go to work with my mum sometimes we'd drive on this road, on which a woman lived in a bush. It was something I used to look out for as part of the journey, the homeless woman who lived at the side of a road in a bush. So strange now I think of it.

  9. ooh can l join in too, no crystals just the corkscrew hair!

  10. I wish I had such a positive outlook on my own future.

  11. Tumbledown cottage? when I become the mad ranting lady pushing her smelly bags round London in a nicked supermarket trolley (or on an old push chair frame) can I come and stay?
    Ooh I've just had an idea, we could do a life swap - I'd move into your cottage and frighten the locals, and you could come to north London and irritate people in the post office with your shouting - I'm sure Channel 4 would make a whole reality TV series on us...speak to my agent.

  12. Mopsa: Powder and beetroot is not compulsory, although I think the living off roadkill and forage plants might be!

    GB: Cross my palm with silver (or gold, I'm not fussy)and I'll predict the future of erudite gorillas who write blogs (I think laboratories are involved).

    Billy: Poached egg on toast this morning, so you'd have been safe enough. I'm saving the scraped up badger for tea.

    Irene: I think I could well need looking after when I am elderly - quite soon now!

    Sneezy: My thinking was that cats could spread themselves about it and keep me warm - and they don't fart as much as dogs!

    Akelamulu: More of a premonition than a dream, I think!

    Tina: I didn't want to aim too high for my old age - no castle in Spain for me!

    PDEWYMO: A woman in a bush? How wonderful but I bet it was a bit chilly in the winter.

    Muddyboots: Anyone will be welcome as long as they bring a bottle!

    Rol: It's not a definite aim of mine, you understand, just a suspicion!

    Herschelian: Brilliant. I'm on the phone now.....

  13. From your description, I'm 75% mad woman already!

  14. Dammit. You stole my plan. I wanna know how it turns out tho.

  15. Beki and Moochy: I think there's a lot of us about. Maybe we could start a commune and swap mouldering books and roadkill recipes.