Hello, Angela Merchant speaking/writing/blogging. I'm not sure what the etiquette is in terms of address when starting a "public" blog. My story started some 32 years ago when two teenage sweethearts from the Northeast got married and moved to a small market town in middle England where the male of the species had secured a graduate training post with a large electrical engineering company. We only saw it as a staging post, a couple of years at most and then we'd be off to pastures newer and greener, preferably within striking distance of the sea. 27 years, 4 houses, 3 children, several cats and the same job later we were still land-locked but the big prize was about to be delivered - a 3 year professional secondment to Houston, Texas. This is where the story came to print in the form of emails sent to friends and family back home which, on our reluctant return to Blighty in 2007, transposed into a monthly bulletin. Anyone wishing to catch up on "back numbers" can do so at http://www.themerchantstale.com/. For those of you beginning here, Angela is a 50 something wife and mother, sadly no longer a daughter, never a sister, married to Brian; together they have 3 beautiful, wonderful, sometimes infuriating, st
ubbornly single daughters and share their living space with Sir William, Angela's superlative-defying grey tabby cat. Once again electively unemployed, Angela shares the highs and lows of middle-aged, middle of the road living in Middletown, UK.
So.... local council and London mayoral election day. Brian and I have voting cards for our new address but not sure if we'll use them. Probably we will, as children of the fifties we expect to do our duty. Selfishly, with no children still at school and even though it looks as if all escape routes from Middletown are now blocked, I can't get too worked up about local affairs. However, I can take the opportunity to register my disgust at the parlous state of the country under Man of Straw, G. Brown Esq. Daughter No.2 rings up in tears - she has no voting card and can't find out where to go to help choose a new - or old- London Mayor. I tell her not to worry her pretty little head as she has already this day had a run-in with her local council over the non-payment of housing benefit (applied for in March) has yet another job interview at the seemingly closed shop which is the country's greatest Arts museum followed by a first date with an occasional jive dance partner, a 32 year old Kiwi who goes under the sobriquet of Bugsy Malone. Quite enough excitement for one day. Just out of interest, I enquire, who would you be voting for? Oh, probably the Green er person.....or Ken. Not that Big Girl's Blouse Boris, that's for sure. So much for capturing the young educated female vote then.
Why is it you can check your chin one day, with search light and magnifying mirror, and there is not even the suspicion of a whisker and then the very next time you come to apply the polyfiller you have sprouted at least 2 spiky white bristles worthy of the Wicked Witch in any Grimm fairytale?
ubbornly single daughters and share their living space with Sir William, Angela's superlative-defying grey tabby cat. Once again electively unemployed, Angela shares the highs and lows of middle-aged, middle of the road living in Middletown, UK.So.... local council and London mayoral election day. Brian and I have voting cards for our new address but not sure if we'll use them. Probably we will, as children of the fifties we expect to do our duty. Selfishly, with no children still at school and even though it looks as if all escape routes from Middletown are now blocked, I can't get too worked up about local affairs. However, I can take the opportunity to register my disgust at the parlous state of the country under Man of Straw, G. Brown Esq. Daughter No.2 rings up in tears - she has no voting card and can't find out where to go to help choose a new - or old- London Mayor. I tell her not to worry her pretty little head as she has already this day had a run-in with her local council over the non-payment of housing benefit (applied for in March) has yet another job interview at the seemingly closed shop which is the country's greatest Arts museum followed by a first date with an occasional jive dance partner, a 32 year old Kiwi who goes under the sobriquet of Bugsy Malone. Quite enough excitement for one day. Just out of interest, I enquire, who would you be voting for? Oh, probably the Green er person.....or Ken. Not that Big Girl's Blouse Boris, that's for sure. So much for capturing the young educated female vote then.
Why is it you can check your chin one day, with search light and magnifying mirror, and there is not even the suspicion of a whisker and then the very next time you come to apply the polyfiller you have sprouted at least 2 spiky white bristles worthy of the Wicked Witch in any Grimm fairytale?
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