Wednesday, 11 August 2010

Blog Takeover Day - I Am Not Amused!

Look, she’s forgotten it’s Sally’s birthday and that it’s Blog Takeover Day and so I’ve taken a risk and decided to go for it.

Sorry if I keep looking over my shoulder, but she could come in here any minute. She said she was Going Out With The Dogs, but she might be on to me in which case she could suddenly reappear.

She’s a Grade A Control Freak and if she thought I was using her precious computer the fallout would be terrifying. She’d start by accusing me of Checking Up On Her. As if I haven't got better things to do!

I don’t have to go into her history to see she’s been on Facebook, tending her farm and preparing dishes in her Café. It’s pathetic – her houseplants are withering from lack of attention, her garden has more weeds than the whole of East Anglia and her idea of cooking a nutritious meal is to boil a kettle and open a Pot Noodle, do you know what I’m saying?

And she’s addicted to games of solitaire. Crazy Quilt Solitaire, Spider, Pyramid, you name it, she plays it. Remember that chimpanzee in the PG Tips advert; “You hum it, son, I’ll play it.”? You show her a pack of cards on her screen and she’ll play them till she’s seeing cards in her sleep.

She’ll tell you that she’s busy looking after the children and the dogs, but she’s lying. She locks them all in the kitchen with a packet of Rich Tea Biscuits and it’s every boy/girl/dog for himself.

As for the stories – she doesn’t make them up – I do.

And The Beloved – poor soul. He’s a shadow of his former self, a shadow and it’s all her fault. She doesn’t call him The Beloved in Real Life let me tell you. She calls him a lot of things – none of which I can repeat here, but suffice to say it isn’t pretty.

True, she writes a bit, when I can get her to listen to me. Most of the time she ignores me just as she ignores everyone else.

My Muse has gone on her holidays she says. My Muse has disappeared. My Muse has gone AWOL. Well I’ve got news for you, sister, I’m right here. I’m always here; you just Don’t Ever Listen To Me!

I come up with the most wonderful ideas and she says she’ll let them fester for a bit, then she goes on Facebook and I might as well be in-bloody-visible – oh, well yes I am invisible as it happens, but okay I might as well not be here.

She even poked me in the eye once. It’s true I tell you. She pretended to be scratching an itch behind her ear, but I know that finger was meant for me and I know it had malicious intent.

I feel hurt. Sidelined. I used to work so hard for her and she for me, but these days it’s a struggle just to get her to open up a Word document and as for a notebook - she may tell you she adores notebooks and it’s true she does have a stack of them, but they’ll be on the Antiques Roadshow one day you mark my words.

“Unused Pukka pads,” the stationery expert will say. “Unheard of. What a remarkable find. How did you come by these?”

“Well,” the excited little old lady will coo as little ££££ signs flash in her eyes. “I bought an old stationery cupboard and there they were inside in pristine condition along with a box of paperclips and a half eaten Twix.”

Actually I’m joking about the Twix (I do have a sense of humour you know – she hasn’t quite beaten that out of me). That is one thing she has no problem starting or finishing – anything with chocolate in it. Actually anything with FOOD in it. Or alcohol. Well let’s be honest anything she can swallow - down it goes.

I just want to get one thing straight here. The rejections – they’re all hers. The acceptances are mine. I’m the inspiration, the sweat and the tears and without me she’d be nothing I tell you, nothing! And she knows it.

You know what? I think I’m safe. She wouldn’t dare get rid of me.

Hold on – listen – she’s coming back. Dogs are panting – and smelly. Why does she let them swim in the dykes and roll in the mud (and worse)? She’s coming up the stairs.

Who’s been messing about with my computer? The Beloved runs for cover, the dogs cower, I shrink back into the shadows but I am not afraid. She needs me. I can feel her mind reaching out for mine . . .

She sits down.

I’ve just remembered, it’s Sally Quilford’s birthday blog Takeover. I should have thought about this sooner.

Happy Birthday Sally!


  1. Brilliant, as always, Teresa. Your muse sounds as ticked off as mine. And thank you xxxx

  2. Your muse has attitude! LOL. I loved it.

  3. I knew it! I knew she couldn't have written those stories by herself. You can see it in her photo. There's no imagination in that face. And I can totally believe you about the drink. I guess she's not wearing those shades just because of the sun eh?
    PS Erase this comment before she reads it.

  4. Oh there, there, poor Muse. Have a Twix!

  5. Yes, happy birthday, Sally and brilliant blog Teresa's Muse - I hope she doesn't find out it was you - I'd run for cover too if I were you!

    Maybe Teresa wuld get on well with my Original Grumpy Old Man?!

    Julie xx

  6. That was close. You nearly got caught then.

    I have to admit to also having a Pukka pad passion and also having no problem when it comes to finishing chocolate.

  7. Hmmm. Note to self. Buy Pukka pads and leave in back of cupboard to appreciate.

  8. Hope you’ve had a lovely birthday, Quillers. I’ve no idea what’s upset my Muse so much.

    She has a bad attitude, Ellie – oh, no, actually I’m the one with the bad attitude. The Muse is a sweetie really.

    Unlucky, Keith – your comment wasn’t erased. But – sigh – I’m afraid you’ve hit the nail on the head.

    Thanks, Joanne, but I’ll have that Twix, the Muse says she doesn’t want it. (But tell Harvey I'll save him some).

    I can’t think what you mean, Julie. Me? Grumpy? I don’t believe it!

    Pukkas are – well pukka aren’t they Debs!

    Leave them scattered around, Juliet – it makes it look as if you’re ready to write at a moment’s notice!
    Then put them in the back of the cupboard!

  9. Well, muse, you sucked me in with food, chocolate and alcohol all in one paragraph. Wicked..:)

  10. Oops! That wasn't me, Teresa. The voice in my head must have escaped from its box to takeover my blog. I would never be so rude.
    And another one in T-a-B! Your muse must have been busy. I wish my inner voice would stop mucking around, get off its backside and do some proper work.

  11. Ah a girl after my own heart, L'Aussie.

    Sometimes you have to let the voice take over, Keith. The things mine says sometimes - well I couldn't repeat them here.

    Thanks womag :-)

  12. Brilliant post, Teresa's Muse - and Happy Birthday Sally.


  13. My brother recognised his muse as Mark Twain. He couldn't have a nobody like my little old lady or your whatever, Teresa. That's men for you.

  14. Teresa's Muse thanks you, Suzanne xx

    Wow - Mark Twain, Marian! And yours is a little old lady! I wouldn't dare ask mine her age but I'm pretty sure she's tall, slim and blonde - I don't know why because I've never actually seen her.

  15. I wish my muse wrote as well as yours I might get more published even if she did go a little crazy at times. ;-)

    Best wishes,

  16. Thank you Jarmara. It seems to be best to let them have their way - don't fight it!