Becky says things about … being nominated for an award

No, not the Booker Prize. Or the Nobel Peace Prize. The bastards have stopped answering my phonecalls.

It’s a blogging thing. The lovely Lily of Don’t Quote Lily has nominated me for The Versatile Blogger Award, which is obviously lovely, because it means that my trusty little stickmen and the various things that I have said on this blog have gone down well. So thank you Lily, and thank you, dear readers, for continuing to listen to me when I say things – my little stickmen and I are very appreciative.

Bless him, so excited.

So anyway, here are the rules for this award:

1. Add the award to your blog – I’ll let you know when I’ve worked out how to do that.

2. Thank the blogger who gave you the award and add a link to their blog – done and done, thank you Lily.

3. Mention seven random things about yourself – see below for said randomness.

4. List the rules – these are the rules and this is rule number 4.

5. Give the award to 15 or more bloggers – see below for the lucky blogging dudes.

So, random things about me.

1. When I’m alone in the house, I quite often put on the music channel and pretend I’m a better dancer than Beyonce will ever be.

2. I love Blackpool. And I don’t care what anybody says.

3. If someone said to me: ‘Becky, we’ll pay for you to fly over to Las Vegas, live in a hotel room in the Bellagio, and be a Las Vegas showgirl for a year, but you have to give us your soul’, I would say ‘WHERE DO I SIGN?’

4. I like bananas, but banana-flavoured stuff can go to hell.

5. When I was 18 I recreated, by ear, several major classical works (and a bit of Steely Dan) on my dad’s super-technical keyboard and turned it into a symphony, which I presented to my parents for their Silver Wedding Anniversary. And, incidentally, you can listen to it here. Just call me Becky Beethoven.

6. Also when I was 18, I said the following: ‘I want to have at least one novel published by the time I leave university, and by the time I’m 25 I want to have my own sitcom on the BBC.’ Because when you’re 18, that’s how easy it is.

7. I would rather be a cowboy than a pirate.


So there we are. And here are the 15 amazing bloggers who I am nominating for an award, in no particular order:

The Evolution of Insanity – some ruddy funny ranting going on there

Speaker 7 – for her unbelievably amusing reviews of the Godawful Fifty Shades trilogy

The Blog of Funny Names – the sheer volume of funny names they unearth is quite magnificent

This Is Ferg – amazing photos and goings on in Barbados

Death On The Stairs – some of the funniest anecdotal banter I’ve ever read

Idiot-Prufs – very amusing observational thoughts

Best Bathroom Books – best title ever (and some pretty fun stuff inside, too)

Anxiety and Biscuits  – funny life thoughts

Dysfunctional Literacy – excellent thoughts on life and writing

Joe’s Shitty Ideas – he shouldn’t put himself down, because his ideas are frankly genius

Kristin Bergene – a very good writer, from bits of prose to everyday bits and bobs

WonderWimp – constantly amusing, very insightful

Live to Write – excellent blog for writers, loads of interesting articles and tips

Clotildajamcracker – weird name, funny blog

My Parents Are Crazier Than Yours – very prolific blog, probably doesn’t need this award, but it’s still some funny stuff


And after all that I’ve worked out how to stick the award nomination picture on my blog:


Thanks again to Lily, and to everyone who listens to the things I say. You guys are the best.

Becky says things about … the Great British summertime

Imagine if you can, dear reader, the following situations:

1) Your pal rings you up one morning and says ‘Hey there chum, do you fancy going to the seaside for the day? We can sunbathe on the beach, build sandcastles, lark around on the pier and eat ice cream until we feel dizzy.’ And you reply ‘That sounds brilliant! Let me just find my bucket and spade and it’s game on!’

2) Your pal rings you up one afternoon and says ‘Hey there chum, do you fancy going for a stroll along the river in our shorts and sandals? Perhaps we can stop for a strawberry split and an ice cold lemonade along the way.’ And you reply ‘That sounds super! Let me just slap on a bit of suncream and I’m there!’

3) Your pal rings you up one evening and says ‘Hey there chum, do you fancy coming over for a BBQ? I’ve got sausages, burgers, kebabs, AND haloumi, I’ve covered our laurel bushes with fairy lights and I’ve got smooth jazz on.’ And you reply ‘That sounds marvellous! I’ll just pick up some champagne and some strawberries and I’ll be right over.’

4) Basically any situation that involves your pal ringing you up and suggesting doing outdoor things.

You can’t imagine it, can you? I mean, you literally cannot imagine a situation where any of those things would ever happen.

I shall tell you why that is, dear friend. It is because

it has rained for the past one thousand years.

It is July 2nd. The summer holidays are almost upon us. We are hosting the world’s greatest sporting spectacle. Our country is providing the roads on which the greatest cycling athletes known to Man will attempt to display their incredible Olympic-standard skills.

We are supposed to be showing off our green and pleasant land, shouting to the world that Britain isn’t this sad, gloomy place where everyone is miserable, pale and slightly unwell-looking, and where no one has even heard of Vitamin D.

Instead, we shall confirm to the world that all of the above are true, we will give hypothermia to important state members of foreign countries, we will kill off most of the world’s tourist population by providing healthy doses of trench foot as they stand watching the 100 meter sprint in three feet of mud, and still it will continue to rain.

Reader, I remember summers that were sunny. I remember frolicking on sunny Cornish beaches, I remember hot afternoons eating chicken drumsticks in National Trust gardens, I remember long, warm evenings where the air was filled with the smell of roasting meat, where lights twinkled in the blue dusk and I ate Kettle Chips until it was no longer safe to do so. I remember this. Was it all a dream? Have I gone mad? Have I been imagining a place that doesn’t exist?

We can only sit and wait. Wait until this disgusting, miserable, foul, revolting, repulsive, horrendous, shitty weather has a word with itself, the sun remembers it’s supposed to be working and gets off its lazy arse, and we all get that obligatory British strip of sunburn over one shoulder.