Sunday, July 15, 2007

Kate’s 25th party, guest blogger #21 – Milly Johnson

Milly’s a very new friend. She’s a fellow RNA member but it was actually on MySpace where we 'met' as I spotted her book cover. The Yorkshire Pudding Club was such an intriguing title, I wanted to know more. So I checked out her website and the blurb, thought it was a brilliant idea (and I wish I’d thought of it first!) and bought a copy for my holiday reading. (Yes, I know I have a TBR shelf or two. But that’s not the point. I’m going on holiday. I need books.) But the picture of Milly on her website continued to bug me, because I’m sure she looks like someone I know. Can’t remember how: could be work, could be Tumble Tots or playgroup or… In the end, I cracked, emailed her to say hello and asked her if she'd ever lived near me and we knew each other in real life (we don’t, so I’m clearly just having senior moments – though she does know people that I’m acquainted with locally), and we got chatting (as you do)… Anyway, I’ll let her tell you all about it! So here's Milly Johnson:

Kate and I hooked up on the net and it was an association I was very happy to have, given all those communal interests we share – writing books, Italians, Italy, chocolate, the love of a belting romance… oh and did I mention Italians and Italy?

What is it about the damned place? Is it the limoncello (that doesn’t do any harm!) the shops (give me a man in Armani and watch what I do once me muzzle’s off) is it the language? (he could be saying ‘My God, girl, you’ve got a backside the size of a small emergent nation’ but said in an Italian accent and I’m drowning in my own drool). I think, certainly this year, it may well have an added attraction of dry, hot sun. My Italian penpal (drop dead gorgeous) tells me that he’s so hot there at the moment. ‘I know’ I sigh and wonder how the weather is. It’s only natural that Kate and I have started to bond. She’s going to point me to some sites where I can learn some proper Italian. Stuff like Forse dovremmo smettere which means ‘Maybe we’d better stop.’ Then again, I should concentrate on learning stuff I actually intend to use.

Not that our Kate ONLY writes about Italy – but it was our big starting point and with 1 single book to my name I’m pretty in awe of having 25 on my backlist. No wonder there’s a party going on.

Kate - it’s a fantastic achievement and you must be (deservedly) so proud of yourself!
Our friendship is at the fledgling stage – just cracking out of its shell, in fact - but I’m stocked up with your books and they’re sitting in my suitcase for my forthcoming holiday (oh please just guess where I’m going – go on!) In this sometimes rotten world we live in, I’m so grateful to be whisked off in my head to sunnier climes with a big dashing hero forcing me to snoggenzi him. Maybe one day life will imitate art… (we live in hope). So, Kate old flower, here’s to the next 25. I raise a whopping great glass of grappa in your direction, (Italian for grope?) Salute!

GIVEAWAY: Signed copy of The Yorkshire Pudding Club

QUESTION: What’s the best joke you’ve heard about Yorkshire?


Becky said...

I heard this one a while ago. It's pretty popular, but here it is anyways. :)


A Yorkshireman had emigrated to America, but still used to receive news from home by mail.
One day, he got the following telegram:
'Regret father died this morning STOP early hours. Funeral Wednesday STOP Yorkshire two hundred and one for six STOP Boycott not out ninety six.'

Nell said...

I don't think I know any Yorkshire jokes - sorry.

robynl said...

Q: How old is your son, the one living with you?
A: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.
Q: How long has he lived with you?
A: Forty-five years.

AA said...

I've just been to your website Milly and am very impressed. Your book looks fab. Love the selction of greeting cards - I've bought Purple Ronnie stuff before.
Dont kow any Yorkshire jokes but I do know one with a range of englishmen represented.

There was 3 soccer fans cruising in a jet through the Andes on their way back from a soccer match in South America. The plane crashes. After a week they're all starving and they decide they're going to have to eat the pilot who perished in the crash.
The first guys says - I'm from Liverpool so I'll have the liver.
The second man says, I'm from Manchester so I'll have the chest.
The third man says, I'm from Arsenal and I'm not hungry.

Ta boom.
Yes, very old and corny. I've just told my kids that joke and they cacked themselves - mainly because mummy said that naughty "a" word.

Amy Andrews

Kate Hardy said...

I have one too...

Man goes to see his late wife's headstone. It says, "Lord! She were thin". (It should have been "Lord! She were thine".) So he says to the monumental mason, "You've left out the 'e'." Some days later he returns to the church yard and there is the corrected headstone, "Ee, Lord! she were thin"

Diane said...

I don't know any Yorkshire jokes either, I'm afraid ... other than this one that was sent to me via email and posted on my blog. Sorry it's a bit long ...

A major flood hit on Monday evening.
Epicentre: Rotherham, England.

News of the disaster was swiftly carried abroad by the town's 35,000 racing pigeons, as victims were seen wandering around aimlessly muttering "fookinhell" and "chuffinnorah".

The flood decimated the town, causing £30 worth of damage. Several priceless collections of mementos from the Balearic Isles and the Spanish Costas were damaged beyond repair. Three areas of historical burnt out cars were disturbed.

Many locals were woken well before their Giro arrived. Radio station Rother FM reported that hundreds of residents were confused and bewildered, still trying to come to terms with the fact that something interesting had happened in Rotherham. One resident, 15 year old mother of 3, Tracy Sharon Braithwaite said: "It was such a shock, my little Chardonnay-Madonna came running into my bedroom crying. The twins, Tyler-Morgan and Megan-Storm slept through it all. I was still shaking when I was watching Kilroy the next morning." Locals were determined not to be bowed, as looting, muggings and car crime carried on as normal.

So far, whilst the British Red Cross has managed to ship 4,000 crates of Sunny Delight to the area to relieve the suffering of stricken locals, rescue workers searching through the rubble have found large quantities of personal belongings including benefit books, jewellery from Elizabeth Duke at Argos [What's wrong with Argos?], and bone china from Poundstretcher.

Can You Help?

Please respond generously to our appeal for food and clothing for the victims of this disaster.

Clothing is needed most of all, especially:

· Fila or Burberry baseball caps

· Kappa tracksuit tops (his or hers)

· Shell suits (female)

· White sports socks

· Rockfort boots or any other product sold in Primark. [What's wrong with Primark?]

Culturally sensitive food parcels are harder to put together, but your efforts will make a difference.

Microwave meals, tinned baked beans, ice-cream and cans of Colt 45 or Special Brew are ideal. [Sounds good to me.]

Please do not give anything that requires peeling. [Not even a banana?]


· 22p buys a Biro for filling in compensation claims

· £2 buys chips, crisps and a blue fizzy drink for a family of 9 [Fantastic value]

· £5 will pay for a packet of B&H and a lighter to calm a child's nerves.

Urgently required: Tinned whippet food. Bones for Jack Russells.

Please do not send tents for shelter. The sight of such posh housing will cause residents to believe they have been forcibly relocated to Sheffield.

Anonymous said...

Pat says:

Hi, Milly
I live on the borders of Lancashire and West Yorkshire - some say we're in Lancashire, others insist it's Yorkshire.
By birth I'm a Southerner, though, and all this is my excuse for not knowing any Yorkshire jokes.

But I do know some good Yorkshire words: clawm or cloam means to touch in a wheedling sort of way, clap-cowd is food which has been allowed to go cold, a gawp-'eead is a stupid person, to parzle is to stroll, to paddle is to walk slowly or with difficulty and hard on (mind out of gutters, everyone) in parts of Yorkshire it means fast asleep!