ME: What will I write for my last NaBlahBlahBlah post?
HUBBY: How 'bout "Thank you and Good Night" - y'know, short and sweet!
ME: You're only saying that because you don't want me to spend hours on the computer "wasting my weekend."
HUBBY: I would never say such a thing.
ME: Maybe not out loud - but you're thinking it!
HUBBY: But Wifey, my thoughts are my own.
ME: You are so busted!
So it's the last day of November and the last day of my daily posts, which I have enjoyed hugely. I will still post regularly, have no fear, but I really must get back to Poppy (whom I have left wordless for four weeks after deciding to write 2000 words a day on her story). What can I say? Some challenges just floor you before you even begin.
Thanks for tuning in for NaBloPoMo. Thank you and Good Night!
Sunday, 30 November 2008
Saturday, 29 November 2008
MEME-MEME!
I have been veritably beaten up (as distinct from being smacked) by book-related memes. The first is from the divine Ms. Vanilla in which I'm supposed to recommend four essential reads. And the second is from Pete where I have to come up with seven random or weird book facts. Uuum right! Ok… yes…I'd better get on with it then.
First Vanilla's (as she tagged me first - it's only polite)
The rules are:
(a) Fiction book
(b) Autobiography
(c) Non-fiction book
(d) A fourth book of your choice from any genre.
Explain why the books are essential reads in no more than 30 words per book. (Clears throat…holds nose…jumps in…)
Fiction Book: We Need To Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. This gripping, moving and horrifying book takes the form of letters written by a woman to her estranged husband telling her story of a reluctant mother to a difficult son who is in jail for the murder of several schoolmates when he went on the rampage with a cross-bow. It is beautifully ambiguous so that how you feel about her and what has happened is down to your own feelings about motherhood and child rearing. It also asks if someone is born evil or are they a product of their upbringing. I can't recommend this one highly enough.
Ooops! Went way over on the 30 words there. Never mind - the next one is short.
Autobiography: None. I can't remember ever having read one - they simply don't appeal except for the photos. I've read a few biographies but nothing worth recommending.
Non-fiction Book: The Secret by Rhonda Byrne. I pretty much got over my self-help book addiction by the time I hit thirty but I saw Ellen Degeneres talking about this on her show and I bought it out of curiosity. It's such a positive upbeat way to look at life. It's a pity it concentrates so much on material gains but the message of optimism and gratitude has deepened everything I had come to understand about how to live a worthwhile life.
Bugger - that's gone right over 30 too. I'm not very succinct am I?
A fourth book of your choice from any genre: Well if you look at my bookshelves you will see that they are dominated by two authors: JK Rowling and Terry Pratchett. Everyone in the universe has read Ol' J.K. so I'm going to big up Terry. I just had a quick nip around the house and I counted 25 of his books. What I adore about him is his endless tangential good humour. He has a great humanitarian strand and in the loveliest, funniest way manages to slice and dice through the terminal BS of life. It is deeply sad that he has recetly been diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease which he has wonderfully described as his embuggerment. Please click here to read his address to the Alzheimer's Research Trust Conference in the UK earlier this year, where he donated $1 million to aid Alzheimer's research. It is funny and determined and inspiring. His new book, Nation is on my Christmas list. From what I've heard of it, it's his best yet - and written after his diagnosis. If you've never read one I'd start with Wyrd Sisters which is I think one of the funniest.
As I completely ignored the word count rule there I'm going to flout the tagging rule too. So if you fancy doing this one then be my guest but do come back and tell me so I can check it out.
On to Pete's now: Seven random or weird book facts. Oh my - this is a tricky one. I may have to resort to making them up if I can't find seven.
1. Unlike everyone else in the world who fancies themselves a writer I was neither a voracious reader or writer as a child. I was utterly enthralled by stories though. I adored being read to and I watched so many movies I couldn't possibly count them. I loved reading myths and legends and I think that my entire library withdrawal at the age of 8-9 were about Cú Chulainn, Fionn MacCumhaill and the Táin. (There's a bit of Wiki-reading for ya).
2. Because I didn't read lot (I did read - just not a lot) I was a very slow reader. When I started in secondary school and we started reading novels for English, it took me hours to read the allotted pages for homework because, up to that point, I read in my head at the same speed and intonation as I would if I read aloud. I am not good at reading aloud however. Unless I'm reading for my kids I get nervous and I stammer a lot (I don't do this normally) which is why I've not joined in Robin's voice thingy. All my attempts were truly embarrassing. On the upside - I am a voracious reader now. I hit my stride at about 21 and have never looked back.
3. I love hardbacks. I know that they are a pain to read; you can't fold the pages back, they're hard to read lying in bed, they're heavy, expensive and are environmentally wasteful but I love them. If I'm waiting for a book to come out I do not want to have to wait for the paperback. I want it NOW! Books still feel like a treat to me and a hardback is like a present every time you open it. They keep better and the smell good. I'm a keeper of books so I like them to be well bound.
4. The first two books I ever withdrew from the Library were The Cat in the Hat by Dr Seuss and Miffy by Dick Bruna I loved them so much I took them out again and again. I remember my first trip to the library very well. It was pouring with rain and I was wearing my brand new pink plastic Mac and rainhat. I think it's why I like going walking in the rain so much.
5. I won a reading and writing competition run by the Limerick Public library on two separate occasions when I was in school. You had to read a book, write about it and submit a piece of artwork inspired by the book. I got book tokens as a prize presented by the Mayor and I was on the News (although blink and you'd have missed me). The first time I was 9 and although I don't remember the book, I know it was about a snail and a salamander. I drew a picture of a snail and made a stuffed one from old stockings for my artistic submission. The second time I was 11 and the book was Flight of The Doves by Walter Macken and I submitted a pencil drawing of Finn Dove which, if I say so myself, was bloody good. With the book tokens I bought a series of books about Sue Barton and her various nursing adventures.
6. I love reference books and encyclopedias. When a neighbour, who was a nurse, emigrated, she left behind a load of medical books. I adored them. By the time I was 10 I had a very good idea of how to perform an appendectomy, deliver a baby, do an emergency tracheotomy and diagnose most childhood diseases from the various rashes. I also had an amazingly large medical vocabulary.
7. I often read the end of the book way before I get to the end. I do this at the point in the book when the plot starts to get interesting - just to see if I've guessed right. Sometimes it's because I want to see if it's worth my while continuing but mostly it's because I'm so competitive I want to see whether the author's ending is the same/ better or not quite as good as the one I'd have come up with. I know - that's pretty sad. Still my end-jumping has never ruined a book for me - so I'm just gonna keep doing it!
Surprisingly that wasn't nearly as hard as I though it'd be. Please feel free to consider yourself tagged if you'd like to do this.
A cuppa is in order now I think.
First Vanilla's (as she tagged me first - it's only polite)
The rules are:
(a) Fiction book
(b) Autobiography
(c) Non-fiction book
(d) A fourth book of your choice from any genre.
Explain why the books are essential reads in no more than 30 words per book. (Clears throat…holds nose…jumps in…)
Fiction Book: We Need To Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. This gripping, moving and horrifying book takes the form of letters written by a woman to her estranged husband telling her story of a reluctant mother to a difficult son who is in jail for the murder of several schoolmates when he went on the rampage with a cross-bow. It is beautifully ambiguous so that how you feel about her and what has happened is down to your own feelings about motherhood and child rearing. It also asks if someone is born evil or are they a product of their upbringing. I can't recommend this one highly enough.
Ooops! Went way over on the 30 words there. Never mind - the next one is short.
Autobiography: None. I can't remember ever having read one - they simply don't appeal except for the photos. I've read a few biographies but nothing worth recommending.
Non-fiction Book: The Secret by Rhonda Byrne. I pretty much got over my self-help book addiction by the time I hit thirty but I saw Ellen Degeneres talking about this on her show and I bought it out of curiosity. It's such a positive upbeat way to look at life. It's a pity it concentrates so much on material gains but the message of optimism and gratitude has deepened everything I had come to understand about how to live a worthwhile life.
Bugger - that's gone right over 30 too. I'm not very succinct am I?
A fourth book of your choice from any genre: Well if you look at my bookshelves you will see that they are dominated by two authors: JK Rowling and Terry Pratchett. Everyone in the universe has read Ol' J.K. so I'm going to big up Terry. I just had a quick nip around the house and I counted 25 of his books. What I adore about him is his endless tangential good humour. He has a great humanitarian strand and in the loveliest, funniest way manages to slice and dice through the terminal BS of life. It is deeply sad that he has recetly been diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease which he has wonderfully described as his embuggerment. Please click here to read his address to the Alzheimer's Research Trust Conference in the UK earlier this year, where he donated $1 million to aid Alzheimer's research. It is funny and determined and inspiring. His new book, Nation is on my Christmas list. From what I've heard of it, it's his best yet - and written after his diagnosis. If you've never read one I'd start with Wyrd Sisters which is I think one of the funniest.
As I completely ignored the word count rule there I'm going to flout the tagging rule too. So if you fancy doing this one then be my guest but do come back and tell me so I can check it out.
On to Pete's now: Seven random or weird book facts. Oh my - this is a tricky one. I may have to resort to making them up if I can't find seven.
1. Unlike everyone else in the world who fancies themselves a writer I was neither a voracious reader or writer as a child. I was utterly enthralled by stories though. I adored being read to and I watched so many movies I couldn't possibly count them. I loved reading myths and legends and I think that my entire library withdrawal at the age of 8-9 were about Cú Chulainn, Fionn MacCumhaill and the Táin. (There's a bit of Wiki-reading for ya).
2. Because I didn't read lot (I did read - just not a lot) I was a very slow reader. When I started in secondary school and we started reading novels for English, it took me hours to read the allotted pages for homework because, up to that point, I read in my head at the same speed and intonation as I would if I read aloud. I am not good at reading aloud however. Unless I'm reading for my kids I get nervous and I stammer a lot (I don't do this normally) which is why I've not joined in Robin's voice thingy. All my attempts were truly embarrassing. On the upside - I am a voracious reader now. I hit my stride at about 21 and have never looked back.
3. I love hardbacks. I know that they are a pain to read; you can't fold the pages back, they're hard to read lying in bed, they're heavy, expensive and are environmentally wasteful but I love them. If I'm waiting for a book to come out I do not want to have to wait for the paperback. I want it NOW! Books still feel like a treat to me and a hardback is like a present every time you open it. They keep better and the smell good. I'm a keeper of books so I like them to be well bound.
4. The first two books I ever withdrew from the Library were The Cat in the Hat by Dr Seuss and Miffy by Dick Bruna I loved them so much I took them out again and again. I remember my first trip to the library very well. It was pouring with rain and I was wearing my brand new pink plastic Mac and rainhat. I think it's why I like going walking in the rain so much.
5. I won a reading and writing competition run by the Limerick Public library on two separate occasions when I was in school. You had to read a book, write about it and submit a piece of artwork inspired by the book. I got book tokens as a prize presented by the Mayor and I was on the News (although blink and you'd have missed me). The first time I was 9 and although I don't remember the book, I know it was about a snail and a salamander. I drew a picture of a snail and made a stuffed one from old stockings for my artistic submission. The second time I was 11 and the book was Flight of The Doves by Walter Macken and I submitted a pencil drawing of Finn Dove which, if I say so myself, was bloody good. With the book tokens I bought a series of books about Sue Barton and her various nursing adventures.
6. I love reference books and encyclopedias. When a neighbour, who was a nurse, emigrated, she left behind a load of medical books. I adored them. By the time I was 10 I had a very good idea of how to perform an appendectomy, deliver a baby, do an emergency tracheotomy and diagnose most childhood diseases from the various rashes. I also had an amazingly large medical vocabulary.
7. I often read the end of the book way before I get to the end. I do this at the point in the book when the plot starts to get interesting - just to see if I've guessed right. Sometimes it's because I want to see if it's worth my while continuing but mostly it's because I'm so competitive I want to see whether the author's ending is the same/ better or not quite as good as the one I'd have come up with. I know - that's pretty sad. Still my end-jumping has never ruined a book for me - so I'm just gonna keep doing it!
Surprisingly that wasn't nearly as hard as I though it'd be. Please feel free to consider yourself tagged if you'd like to do this.
A cuppa is in order now I think.
Friday, 28 November 2008
Angelic Grievance!
So as December approaches I am noticing all the Christmassiness starting to ooze into all manner of everything. Today we got started on making decorations at school. I'm sitting here flaked in silver spray paint and dotted with glitter from the toils of the morning. And yes, before you ask, I have washed, but as anyone who has ever used glitter before understands, mere soap and water is no match for it. It's sneaky! I imagine I'll be glittery for a few days.
We were making angels. I took groups of four at a time because … well … glue and glitter; need I say more? In this particular group I had my old friend Expecto who wasn't very enthusiastic about making "stupid angels." Before we got started on the serious messy stuff I gave all the children a maker pen with instructions to draw a face at the centre of the cardboard template.
"All you need to do is draw eyes, a nose and a mouth and then we can decorate the rest of the angel. OK?"
"Angels are girls aren't they Mrs V?"
Now there was no part of me that wanted to get into a philosophical conversation with a four-year-old about the gender neutrality of angels so I simply said,
"No - not at all. There are lots of boy angels too Expecto. There's Michael and Raphael and Uriel and this one is Gabriel. He announced the birth of Jesus to the Shepherds. He said 'Behold I bring you great news. In Bethleham today a Saviour is born,' and that's how they knew to go visit him."
"But they wear dresses."
"It's not a dress Expecto. It's just the type of clothes that everyone wore when Jesus was born. They didn't invent trousers for hundreds and hundreds of years after that."
He frowned deeply but set to work drawing on the angel's face and just as I was about to hand the glue pot over to Expecto I saw him grinning very mischievously.
"My angel's crying," he said beaming.
"Why? He shouldn't be crying. He's bringing 'great news' remember - not bad news. He should be smiling. Maybe we could change the frown into a smile?"
Before any 'happy' alterations could be made he just scribbled over the whole thing obliterating any chance I had of converting the tears into freckles and turning the grimace into a cheesy grin. I gave him another template and to draw another face - this time a happy one because he's telling happy news. Begrudgingly he took it and drew a half-hearted smile on his angel.
"Thank you Expecto. I'm sure The Angel Gabriel would love that smile." I could tell he wasn't convinced about the revisions made and anyway I was curious to know, so I asked, "Why did you draw him crying?"
"He was really sad because God put him in a stupid dress."
I know I shouldn't have favourites but that little dude just cracks me up!
We were making angels. I took groups of four at a time because … well … glue and glitter; need I say more? In this particular group I had my old friend Expecto who wasn't very enthusiastic about making "stupid angels." Before we got started on the serious messy stuff I gave all the children a maker pen with instructions to draw a face at the centre of the cardboard template.
"All you need to do is draw eyes, a nose and a mouth and then we can decorate the rest of the angel. OK?"
"Angels are girls aren't they Mrs V?"
Now there was no part of me that wanted to get into a philosophical conversation with a four-year-old about the gender neutrality of angels so I simply said,
"No - not at all. There are lots of boy angels too Expecto. There's Michael and Raphael and Uriel and this one is Gabriel. He announced the birth of Jesus to the Shepherds. He said 'Behold I bring you great news. In Bethleham today a Saviour is born,' and that's how they knew to go visit him."
"But they wear dresses."
"It's not a dress Expecto. It's just the type of clothes that everyone wore when Jesus was born. They didn't invent trousers for hundreds and hundreds of years after that."
He frowned deeply but set to work drawing on the angel's face and just as I was about to hand the glue pot over to Expecto I saw him grinning very mischievously.
"My angel's crying," he said beaming.
"Why? He shouldn't be crying. He's bringing 'great news' remember - not bad news. He should be smiling. Maybe we could change the frown into a smile?"
Before any 'happy' alterations could be made he just scribbled over the whole thing obliterating any chance I had of converting the tears into freckles and turning the grimace into a cheesy grin. I gave him another template and to draw another face - this time a happy one because he's telling happy news. Begrudgingly he took it and drew a half-hearted smile on his angel.
"Thank you Expecto. I'm sure The Angel Gabriel would love that smile." I could tell he wasn't convinced about the revisions made and anyway I was curious to know, so I asked, "Why did you draw him crying?"
"He was really sad because God put him in a stupid dress."
I know I shouldn't have favourites but that little dude just cracks me up!
Thursday, 27 November 2008
Thanksgiving And TINTINTS!
I love Thanksgiving. I don't celebrate it but I think that it's a holiday that every country should adopt. The idea of taking a day out of the year just to be grateful is brilliant. I have so much to be grateful for and I try to incorporate gratitude into my daily life. I have a wonderful husband and three great children, a lovely home in a beautiful place and a perfect Pooch too. I have a terrific job, excellent friends and really I want for nothing. And I've always been this blessed. I have a fantastic family and was raised by amazing parents. What's not to be grateful for?
The thing about a Thanksgiving holiday is that it brings all our blessings into focus. A little navel gazing to appreciate what we have and consider what it is we value would be a very good thing. Perhaps we could institute it in or around Harvest Festival here in the UK. It makes sense to me.
Maybe I should write to Gordon Brown or start a movement. Maybe I will....
In the meanwhile I'd like to wish y'all a very Happy Thanksgiving. I am very grateful that you stopped by. I appreciate each and every one of you!
**************************************
And for TINTINTS Thursday: This week I found myself out in the garden at the crack of dawn trying to de-poop it before the snow got too heavy (not that it did). As I brought a cuppa up to Hubby in bed later I found myself saying the following:
"I'll tell you something though; frozen poo is a dream to pick up!"
Wednesday, 26 November 2008
Spot the Classy Supermarket!
When you do a lot of shopping online, as I do, you inevitably end up with a lot of SPAM clogging up your inbox telling you about this deal and that. Some of it I've even read - most of it, however, gets ticked and deleted pretty much immediately. I don't mind this. I use these shops so I'm happy to hear of any offers they have. My SPAM filter has finally started working properly so I don't get the messages about penis enlargement, natural viagra, rolex watches and the gross porny ones that make pop-ups pop up everywhere, any more. (**Big sigh of relief** - there was a time when I used to have the worst SPAM filters on earth - it was russian roulette every time you opened mail.)
As the credit crunch has bitten I have found that all these companies seem to be luring in with the promise of great discounts and offers. If I had any money this would be a great time to be a consumer. Here are a few of the subject lines of the Junk I've gotten in the last couple of days.
Play.com: Christmas Offers Save Up To 80%!
SALE Now On - Up To 50% Off at Blooming Marvellous
Free Delivery on all Tesco Entertainment orders plus Mamma Mia DVD for just 7.99 GBP
Johnnie Boden: Hello Jane, 17.5 percent Off and free delivery on all orders
CB2: raising holiday spirits at low CB2 prices
Perfect Christmas puddings from Lakeland
Big Red Warehouse: FOR 2 DAYS ONLY - Up to 60% off!
Great little Trading Co.: Best Ever Offer - extended until Sunday - 20% off & free P&P
Fran Cotton: Half price fur lined boot ready for winter
Amazon: Save 25% on "What Would Jesus Buy? Exclusive to Amazon.co.uk [2007]" on DVD
I have to say I did wonder what, in my reading choices at Amazon, made them think I'd be interested in that one!
Then today I got one that made me smile. In these penny-pinching, credit-crunchy, desperate times isn't it lovely to see that there are still some shops who think I should have the finer things in life....
Waitrose: Half Price Champagne and Salmon for one week only
Is it any wonder it's my favourite place to shop or indeed that I don't have two brass farthings to rub together!
As the credit crunch has bitten I have found that all these companies seem to be luring in with the promise of great discounts and offers. If I had any money this would be a great time to be a consumer. Here are a few of the subject lines of the Junk I've gotten in the last couple of days.
Play.com: Christmas Offers Save Up To 80%!
SALE Now On - Up To 50% Off at Blooming Marvellous
Free Delivery on all Tesco Entertainment orders plus Mamma Mia DVD for just 7.99 GBP
Johnnie Boden: Hello Jane, 17.5 percent Off and free delivery on all orders
CB2: raising holiday spirits at low CB2 prices
Perfect Christmas puddings from Lakeland
Big Red Warehouse: FOR 2 DAYS ONLY - Up to 60% off!
Great little Trading Co.: Best Ever Offer - extended until Sunday - 20% off & free P&P
Fran Cotton: Half price fur lined boot ready for winter
Amazon: Save 25% on "What Would Jesus Buy? Exclusive to Amazon.co.uk [2007]" on DVD
I have to say I did wonder what, in my reading choices at Amazon, made them think I'd be interested in that one!
Then today I got one that made me smile. In these penny-pinching, credit-crunchy, desperate times isn't it lovely to see that there are still some shops who think I should have the finer things in life....
Waitrose: Half Price Champagne and Salmon for one week only
Is it any wonder it's my favourite place to shop or indeed that I don't have two brass farthings to rub together!
Tuesday, 25 November 2008
Barf Nation
Today the barf toll in my class moved from 2 up to 5 with another three children complaining of stomach aches and one cheerfully telling me that she had "die-a-reeeee-ah" adding that "it's alright, my Mum already knows."
My daughter has succombed to the chunder wonder too and currently I am trying hard to ignore the queezy feeling that's ruminating in my belly region.
My neighbour cheerfully told me of her two weeks of hurling and ... (well best not mention the rest eh?) as I took Small Son to school this morning.
I refuse to become another victim of this bully-boy bug. I am well. I am cheerful . I am happy.
(Actually I have a bit of a headache and really my tummy's not feeling great.)
My daughter has succombed to the chunder wonder too and currently I am trying hard to ignore the queezy feeling that's ruminating in my belly region.
My neighbour cheerfully told me of her two weeks of hurling and ... (well best not mention the rest eh?) as I took Small Son to school this morning.
I refuse to become another victim of this bully-boy bug. I am well. I am cheerful . I am happy.
(Actually I have a bit of a headache and really my tummy's not feeling great.)
Monday, 24 November 2008
A Quick Nip To The Shop...
I've been in a bit of a muddle today. It started off well - I remembered my shopping list and bags for a trip to Tesco after work. I almost got Small Son to school on time (you know the one that's a minute's walk from my front door). I got to work on time and, as far as I know, it all went fine. Two kids threw up and had to be collected (a virulent tummy bug is sweeping through the place) but other than that it was a eventless morning. I even managed to leave work less than ten minutes late (I have ended up working on unpaid for up to an hour after my "day" had finished just to get my paperwork done) and off I set to go to the supermarket. I hate not going straight home because the dog is normally climbing the walls having been left for three hours so I like to get back quickly to keep her company. However I had quite a few things to get today so off to the shops I went. I got my trolly and, list in hand, I set off tout de suite to get my groceries and get myself back home to Pooch.
I did the shopping quickly and found myself at an unoccupied check-out. No waiting - how lucky was I? Very! Right until the moment half way through my shopping being scanned that I realised I'd left my purse at home. "Stop!" I yelled holding my palm upward as though directing traffic, "I forgot my money." I was checking through my bag, the shopping bags and all my pockets - no money, no credit cards - nada! I looked blankly at the checkout lady and shrugged my shoulders. "Uuum....sorry."
She looked at me with the bored expression that only a person sitting down all day listening to never ending beeping can muster. "Do you want me to continue scanning?"
"I can't pay you," I said just to clarify what I forgot my money actually means.
Her brow creased under the strain of having to use words to explain herself. "I can continue scanning and then we can store your shopping while you go home to find your purse."
"Really? That's brilliant. Yes let's do that!"
She breathed out a big sigh and continued on scanning. I continued packing. When we were done she called a colleague who took my shopping trolley to customer services. I told her my name and said that I'd be back within 20 minutes. She asked if there was anything that needed to be refrigerated. I said not to bother with that, I didn't have any frozen items and I'd be back quickly. Then I set off back home to be greeted by an ecstatic Pooch who was very confused by me tearing around the house looking for my purse which was nowhere it was supposed to be. She was even more upset two minutes later when, on finding the wallet, I left again. I could hear her whining when I was back in the car. Then I whizzed back to the supermarket.
I parked up and literally ran in and set about looking for someone to help me. Having waited for several minutes for a manager to finish chatting to some colleagues I was directed to a rather bored looking lady behind a counter.
"Hi," I said smiling pleasantly, "that's my shopping over there. I need to pay for it."
"Righ'. OK. Wai' a minu' awrigh?" She went over to my trolly and then looked blankly into space. I thought she was looking for the till receipt which I could see was selotaped to her till. Then she just wandered off down the shop. The queue that was forming behind me was starting to get restless and I could feel their cold stares burning through the back of my head as though with some malevolent magic I had banished her from the land. I turned and shrugged to let them know that I was a clueless as they as to where she'd gone, and more importantly, as to when she'd return. They all wandered off realising that it might be days before she came back.
And then without warning there she was.
"Sorry, Oi'm tryin' to find your refrigera'ed foods. OK. Wai' a minu' awrigh?" and she started to leave again.
"But I told the lady not to bother with that and I came straight back. I've been no more than 15 minutes."
"It's policy. All refrigera'ed items must be refrigera'ed. OK? Wai' a minu' awrigh?"
I suppose that made sense. What if I hadn't returned they'd have had to dump them I guess. So I waited. And waited. And waited. She was so much longer that a minu'. Just when I lost the will to live she came back with my yogurt and milk. I'm not sure but I think she cracked a smile. Then I finally got to pay and leave the shop. I pushed the trolly to the car and that's when I realised I didn't have my car keys. Not in my bag, not in my coat pocket, not hanging on the trolly. Gone. I must've left them on the customer services desk. So back I turned with my trolly straight back to where I was not thirty seconds before. The same woman was there and she looked at me with her usual blank expression. "Can Oi 'elp you?"
"Did I leave my keys on the counter?"
"Wha' vey look loike?"
At this point my patience was wearing thin. I wanted to say "I left here 30 seconds ago - were there any frelling keys on the counter when I left???????" but instead I gritted my teeth and said "there's a leather tag with JANE on it."
" 'Ang on Oi'll check"
Check? Check? Do you have the memory of a goldfish woman? is what I should have said but I smiled benignly and dug my nails into my own flesh.
"Are these them?" she asked holding up a set of keys, with my name on them, that she'd put in the drawer a minute before just after I'd left her.
"Yes. Thank you." I took them and once again went to my car and loaded it up. And once again I drove the four miles home. And once again got greeted my a now hyper Pooch. The dog bounced and jumped and licked and brought me toys as I put my shopping away. I was battling with her enthusiasm as I put the cereal back in the cupboard. Then I knocked an almost empty bottle of juice on the floor. Almost empty. There was a bottle of blackcurrant juice on the list. I forgot it.
I didn't bother going back. The kids can do without.
I did the shopping quickly and found myself at an unoccupied check-out. No waiting - how lucky was I? Very! Right until the moment half way through my shopping being scanned that I realised I'd left my purse at home. "Stop!" I yelled holding my palm upward as though directing traffic, "I forgot my money." I was checking through my bag, the shopping bags and all my pockets - no money, no credit cards - nada! I looked blankly at the checkout lady and shrugged my shoulders. "Uuum....sorry."
She looked at me with the bored expression that only a person sitting down all day listening to never ending beeping can muster. "Do you want me to continue scanning?"
"I can't pay you," I said just to clarify what I forgot my money actually means.
Her brow creased under the strain of having to use words to explain herself. "I can continue scanning and then we can store your shopping while you go home to find your purse."
"Really? That's brilliant. Yes let's do that!"
She breathed out a big sigh and continued on scanning. I continued packing. When we were done she called a colleague who took my shopping trolley to customer services. I told her my name and said that I'd be back within 20 minutes. She asked if there was anything that needed to be refrigerated. I said not to bother with that, I didn't have any frozen items and I'd be back quickly. Then I set off back home to be greeted by an ecstatic Pooch who was very confused by me tearing around the house looking for my purse which was nowhere it was supposed to be. She was even more upset two minutes later when, on finding the wallet, I left again. I could hear her whining when I was back in the car. Then I whizzed back to the supermarket.
I parked up and literally ran in and set about looking for someone to help me. Having waited for several minutes for a manager to finish chatting to some colleagues I was directed to a rather bored looking lady behind a counter.
"Hi," I said smiling pleasantly, "that's my shopping over there. I need to pay for it."
"Righ'. OK. Wai' a minu' awrigh?" She went over to my trolly and then looked blankly into space. I thought she was looking for the till receipt which I could see was selotaped to her till. Then she just wandered off down the shop. The queue that was forming behind me was starting to get restless and I could feel their cold stares burning through the back of my head as though with some malevolent magic I had banished her from the land. I turned and shrugged to let them know that I was a clueless as they as to where she'd gone, and more importantly, as to when she'd return. They all wandered off realising that it might be days before she came back.
And then without warning there she was.
"Sorry, Oi'm tryin' to find your refrigera'ed foods. OK. Wai' a minu' awrigh?" and she started to leave again.
"But I told the lady not to bother with that and I came straight back. I've been no more than 15 minutes."
"It's policy. All refrigera'ed items must be refrigera'ed. OK? Wai' a minu' awrigh?"
I suppose that made sense. What if I hadn't returned they'd have had to dump them I guess. So I waited. And waited. And waited. She was so much longer that a minu'. Just when I lost the will to live she came back with my yogurt and milk. I'm not sure but I think she cracked a smile. Then I finally got to pay and leave the shop. I pushed the trolly to the car and that's when I realised I didn't have my car keys. Not in my bag, not in my coat pocket, not hanging on the trolly. Gone. I must've left them on the customer services desk. So back I turned with my trolly straight back to where I was not thirty seconds before. The same woman was there and she looked at me with her usual blank expression. "Can Oi 'elp you?"
"Did I leave my keys on the counter?"
"Wha' vey look loike?"
At this point my patience was wearing thin. I wanted to say "I left here 30 seconds ago - were there any frelling keys on the counter when I left???????" but instead I gritted my teeth and said "there's a leather tag with JANE on it."
" 'Ang on Oi'll check"
Check? Check? Do you have the memory of a goldfish woman? is what I should have said but I smiled benignly and dug my nails into my own flesh.
"Are these them?" she asked holding up a set of keys, with my name on them, that she'd put in the drawer a minute before just after I'd left her.
"Yes. Thank you." I took them and once again went to my car and loaded it up. And once again I drove the four miles home. And once again got greeted my a now hyper Pooch. The dog bounced and jumped and licked and brought me toys as I put my shopping away. I was battling with her enthusiasm as I put the cereal back in the cupboard. Then I knocked an almost empty bottle of juice on the floor. Almost empty. There was a bottle of blackcurrant juice on the list. I forgot it.
I didn't bother going back. The kids can do without.
Sunday, 23 November 2008
In Which The Weather Played A Trick....
With all the wild weather being reported in the UK you can imagine how excited we were this morning when we woke up to snowfall. Just the beginnings mind you. It had been a cold night and the round was dry so I had high hopes for it sticking. I even went out in my dressing gown to de-poop the lawn so that there would be no nasty surprises later when we were making our snowman. When I went out I was heartened by a heavier fall with light fluffy flakes which stuck fast. By the time I went back up to bed with the morning cuppa there was a light covering and a white outlook.
"Is it Christmas?" asked Small Son delightedly.
"Not yet Sweetie. But wouldn't it be fun if we had more snow next month when it is Christmas time?"
How disappointing was it then when all of a sudden it started to pour down with rain. I'm talking lashing, heavy freezing stuff that within seconds replaced the white blanket with puddles and mud. It was like being promised a great treat and then having it snatched away for no good reason.
Small Son looked out at the rain looking dejected. "No," he said, "it's deffnity not Christmas."
I just hope that the weather's got its act together by December 25th.
"Is it Christmas?" asked Small Son delightedly.
"Not yet Sweetie. But wouldn't it be fun if we had more snow next month when it is Christmas time?"
How disappointing was it then when all of a sudden it started to pour down with rain. I'm talking lashing, heavy freezing stuff that within seconds replaced the white blanket with puddles and mud. It was like being promised a great treat and then having it snatched away for no good reason.
Small Son looked out at the rain looking dejected. "No," he said, "it's deffnity not Christmas."
I just hope that the weather's got its act together by December 25th.
Saturday, 22 November 2008
A Brief Musical Interlude...
It's been a quiet day and I have nothing to report. Any other month of the year and I'd just give posting a skip but this is November, NaBloPoMo, and I have to do a daily post. What I have done today is studiously ignore the awful mess that is my house and listen to music.
For my birthday one of the kids gave me The Script by The Script, a band from Dublin. I have to say that I really do love it. The following song is (as far as I'm concerned) a contender for Best Love Song Ever. My previous favourite is You Do Something To Me by Paul Weller but this … well I just think it's lovely. This isn't a video - some nice YouTube enthusiast has written out the lyrics and put them to the track. I hope you like it.
For my birthday one of the kids gave me The Script by The Script, a band from Dublin. I have to say that I really do love it. The following song is (as far as I'm concerned) a contender for Best Love Song Ever. My previous favourite is You Do Something To Me by Paul Weller but this … well I just think it's lovely. This isn't a video - some nice YouTube enthusiast has written out the lyrics and put them to the track. I hope you like it.
Friday, 21 November 2008
Bareness of Winter
Natalie and Kiersten posted a picture of themselves sans make-up yesterday. A tribute to the natural, if you will, and it got me thinking that winter is very much like that; a denuding of the finery to reveal the essence beneath. So here are a few photos from my daily walk in honour of Winter and all is bare loveliness.
However to start you get a picture of me au natural (well my face is anyway - sorry about the shades I'm not good with strong sunlight - I must be part vampire!)
The ferns and grass look scorched but actually it's just dying away. Underneath it is green.
There is still some evidence of autumn's finery but strong winds are shaking things up and soon this will be no more.
It's only 2.30 in the afternoon and already it feels like evening is drawing in. I love the winter sky.
Every cloud has a silver lining, they say, but in winter it's clear to see.
Cuddle up warm if it's cold where you are. Light a fire and laze with a book. This is the time of year for turning inwards and counting blessings. If it's warm where you live I hope you enjoyed this little chillout.
However to start you get a picture of me au natural (well my face is anyway - sorry about the shades I'm not good with strong sunlight - I must be part vampire!)
The ferns and grass look scorched but actually it's just dying away. Underneath it is green.
There is still some evidence of autumn's finery but strong winds are shaking things up and soon this will be no more.
It's only 2.30 in the afternoon and already it feels like evening is drawing in. I love the winter sky.
Every cloud has a silver lining, they say, but in winter it's clear to see.
Cuddle up warm if it's cold where you are. Light a fire and laze with a book. This is the time of year for turning inwards and counting blessings. If it's warm where you live I hope you enjoyed this little chillout.
Thursday, 20 November 2008
TINTINTS…
Mom In Scrubs has started a little thing going because she realised that having children induces bizarre sentences. She's calling it "Things I Never Thought I'd Need To Say" (TINTINTS) and her first offering for us was
"Stop Drinking Your Potatoes. That's rude."
You'll have to high-tail it over to hers for the explanation for that one.
She pointed out a perfect example of this in my post yesterday when I said,
"Here's your Batman underpants back. Thanks for the loan."
I bet if we think about it we come out with these gems a lot. Only today at work we were having snack time and I found I had occasion to use the phrase,
"Spike! Take that carrot out of your eye and eat it."
There must be thousands of these floating out in the ether. How about you? Have you said anything weird and whacky recently?
"Stop Drinking Your Potatoes. That's rude."
You'll have to high-tail it over to hers for the explanation for that one.
She pointed out a perfect example of this in my post yesterday when I said,
"Here's your Batman underpants back. Thanks for the loan."
I bet if we think about it we come out with these gems a lot. Only today at work we were having snack time and I found I had occasion to use the phrase,
"Spike! Take that carrot out of your eye and eat it."
There must be thousands of these floating out in the ether. How about you? Have you said anything weird and whacky recently?
Wednesday, 19 November 2008
In which Batman saved the day...
Small Son came home from school yesterday with the news that he was wearing Batman underpants.
"But you don't own Batman underpants. Did you have a little accident?"
"No. I did losted my Lightning McQueen ones."
"You lost your underpants?"
"Yes and Miss Scrumptious** did give me Batman ones when I was getting ready for football."
"But…but why did you take your underpants off in the first place? If you leave them on you won't lose them."
"I didn't take them off I just losed-ed them."
The conversation kind of went around in circles from there as I just couldn't figure out 1) why he took his undies off in the first place and 2) how they could've disappeared. So I gave the "what-a-funny-story! Wasn't-it-handy-Miss-Scrumpious-had-some-spares" answer to end the never-ending loop of the conversation.
Last night I dutifully washed the Batman undies and took them back to school this morning. As I handed them to his teacher I said,
"Here's your Batman underpants back. Thanks for the loan. Small Son said he lost his."
"No," she said, "he wasn't wearing any. He was getting ready for football, took his trousers off to reveal that he was in the altogether, decided he needed the loo and ran off down the corridor of the school during lunch break half naked. I had to chase after him with the spares."
"Oh my word," I said blushing, "I leave his clothes out for him but he dresses himself in the mornings. He's never forgotten his underpants before."
"Well he certainly gave all of us a giggle," she said.
Oh the shame! I can't believe I sent my son to school - commando. I guess now I have to add "underpants on?" to the list of things to check before leaving the house.
**(because she is Truly Scrumptious)
"But you don't own Batman underpants. Did you have a little accident?"
"No. I did losted my Lightning McQueen ones."
"You lost your underpants?"
"Yes and Miss Scrumptious** did give me Batman ones when I was getting ready for football."
"But…but why did you take your underpants off in the first place? If you leave them on you won't lose them."
"I didn't take them off I just losed-ed them."
The conversation kind of went around in circles from there as I just couldn't figure out 1) why he took his undies off in the first place and 2) how they could've disappeared. So I gave the "what-a-funny-story! Wasn't-it-handy-Miss-Scrumpious-had-some-spares" answer to end the never-ending loop of the conversation.
Last night I dutifully washed the Batman undies and took them back to school this morning. As I handed them to his teacher I said,
"Here's your Batman underpants back. Thanks for the loan. Small Son said he lost his."
"No," she said, "he wasn't wearing any. He was getting ready for football, took his trousers off to reveal that he was in the altogether, decided he needed the loo and ran off down the corridor of the school during lunch break half naked. I had to chase after him with the spares."
"Oh my word," I said blushing, "I leave his clothes out for him but he dresses himself in the mornings. He's never forgotten his underpants before."
"Well he certainly gave all of us a giggle," she said.
Oh the shame! I can't believe I sent my son to school - commando. I guess now I have to add "underpants on?" to the list of things to check before leaving the house.
**(because she is Truly Scrumptious)
Tuesday, 18 November 2008
I Bet Samson Was Like This....
Yesterday, after much persuasion, Big Son went to the barbers for a haircut. To say that his hair was 'a bit long' is a bit like saying Hitler was 'a bit mean', it so underestimates his former hairiness. It was down past his shoulders when dry. His fringe reached the end of his nose. When he went out in the cold with his winter hat on - he looked like a clown. (I haven't yet mentioned that Big Son has a big ol' mop of curls yet have I? - Well he has - LOADS of 'em). Frankly it was a bit of a state.
What finally convinced him that he should brave a haircut? At learning review day last week, his science teacher pointed out that it was a health and safety risk in a lab full of bunsen burners. He didn't fancy going the saddo ponytail route so off he popped to the local Barbers before he went to school yesterday.
When it was his turn he sat in front of the mirror and the big burly barber swooshed the black backwards apron (favoured by the haridressing fraternity) around his neck before issuing a long whistle and stroking his chin in a manner befitting the average builder.
"Big job," he said, shaking his head, "Do you want me to give you a quote before I start?"
Unfortunately Big Son didn't get it but Hubby, who has had every kind of tradesman try and pull a fast one, thought it was hysterical. Big Son was just glad that the buzzer never came out and at the end he still had a mop of curls but could now see where he was going.
When he was little he just went when he was told because he got a sticker and a lolly pop. Haircuts are a very different kettle of poissons, however, when you're a teenager.
What finally convinced him that he should brave a haircut? At learning review day last week, his science teacher pointed out that it was a health and safety risk in a lab full of bunsen burners. He didn't fancy going the saddo ponytail route so off he popped to the local Barbers before he went to school yesterday.
When it was his turn he sat in front of the mirror and the big burly barber swooshed the black backwards apron (favoured by the haridressing fraternity) around his neck before issuing a long whistle and stroking his chin in a manner befitting the average builder.
"Big job," he said, shaking his head, "Do you want me to give you a quote before I start?"
Unfortunately Big Son didn't get it but Hubby, who has had every kind of tradesman try and pull a fast one, thought it was hysterical. Big Son was just glad that the buzzer never came out and at the end he still had a mop of curls but could now see where he was going.
When he was little he just went when he was told because he got a sticker and a lolly pop. Haircuts are a very different kettle of poissons, however, when you're a teenager.
Monday, 17 November 2008
Shakin' Da Tree
The Hubby doesn't like gardening. (Actually neither do I as I have a tendency to kill plants). But more than his dislike of gardening is his dislike of a messy garden. He hates long grass and weeds and straggly branches and things that grow too fast. And leaves. He really hates leaves falling all over the lawn and the driveway mussin' it all up. In previous years he's spent hours cleaning them all up only to come out the following morning to find that a fresh fall had occurred and it was leaf central again.
This year he waited as long as he could bear it and he left those pesky leaves pile up. Yesterday he'd had enough and set to work to make the place presentable again. He worked so hard and practically filled up a wheelie bin (such a waste of good leaves - we really have to get a composter) and when I went outside to see all he had done it was looking fabulous. The surprising thing though was that the Magnolia tree in the front and the cherry blossom tree in the back were almost completely devoid of leaves.
"Was it very windy or something last night? I'm sure those trees had tons of leaves yesterday."
"No. But they have had a good shaking."
I mulled over that last statement before answering.
"You physically shook all the leaves off the tree yourself didn't you? So you'd only have to do this once?"
"Yes I did."
"Good thinking."
I'm all for time and labour-saving. No point in doing a job twice if you only need to do it once, now is there?
As darkness fell and we were sitting down to watch a bit of telly later, Hubby went to pull the curtains.
"Oh for £%*&'s sake! The bloody garden is covered in bloody leaves again!"
Apparently the other trees on our road had leaves too.
This year he waited as long as he could bear it and he left those pesky leaves pile up. Yesterday he'd had enough and set to work to make the place presentable again. He worked so hard and practically filled up a wheelie bin (such a waste of good leaves - we really have to get a composter) and when I went outside to see all he had done it was looking fabulous. The surprising thing though was that the Magnolia tree in the front and the cherry blossom tree in the back were almost completely devoid of leaves.
"Was it very windy or something last night? I'm sure those trees had tons of leaves yesterday."
"No. But they have had a good shaking."
I mulled over that last statement before answering.
"You physically shook all the leaves off the tree yourself didn't you? So you'd only have to do this once?"
"Yes I did."
"Good thinking."
I'm all for time and labour-saving. No point in doing a job twice if you only need to do it once, now is there?
As darkness fell and we were sitting down to watch a bit of telly later, Hubby went to pull the curtains.
"Oh for £%*&'s sake! The bloody garden is covered in bloody leaves again!"
Apparently the other trees on our road had leaves too.
Sunday, 16 November 2008
The Full Monty
As I mentioned earlier in the week I went to see The Full Monty on Thursday in Brighton. Along with about 15 colleagues, all of whom were female, I braved some serious weather and galloped through my Italian meal in order to see a performance where, it was advertised, the entire male ensemble took their kit off.
I have to say that I really liked the film. It was a thought-provoking piece on the changing nature of gender identity, family and community with some serious points to make about friendship and body issues too. I thought that Robert Carlyle and Mark Addy were brilliant as the best friends whose confidence was shattered when they lost their jobs in a Sheffield Steel Mill. Without jobs and the means to provide for their families the friends reacted very differently. Gaz (Robert Carlyle) proved his masculinity by being unfaithful to his wife who promptly threw him out and replaced him with a steady bloke with a job and Dave (Mark Gaddy) sat around all day and ate his pain away. Disgusted with himself and his weight gain he pushed his adoring wife away convinced she would never want to be intimate with a "fat bastard" like him. Other characters like Gerald (Tom Wilkinson) kept his unemployment secret from his materialistic wife, convinced she would leave him if she realised he was poor and Lomper, the suicidal security guard, who's life revolved around his invalid mother, longed for friendship and love. Although funny and warm the film was also poignant and heart wrenching. The notion that men with nothing to lose could regain their self esteem by bearing all was more of a metaphor for the absolute need for honesty on relationships. It worked beautifully and deservedly won many awards when it was released in 1997.
The stage show was, however a very different animal. For a start it was adapted for Broadway so they changed the setting to Buffalo, New York and the names were Polish instead of Yorkshire names. As the music (Oh yeah! - it was a musical - the cast all sang) was written for that setting we had the weird situation of English actors putting on New York accents on an English stage in a play originally written about Yorkshiremen. This wouldn't have been so bad if the accents were half decent but there were one or two that sounded like they got to Buffalo via Saaaaf (South) London. Yikes! I have to say though that the singing was fantastic. The entire ensemble had amazing voices and the songs were really good.
Where it all went horribly wrong though was the addition of the audience. The problem is that half the assembled multitude thought they were at The Chippendales. The heart of the story, the poignancy and (for me) its strength was lost among the cat-calls and the whistling. The cast were valiant and did their jobs well and with great humour but, alas, the promise of The Full Monty proved too much for quite a few of the 'ladies' present. Not that you can blame them - that's how it's marketed - if you're going to advertise it as though it's just some strip show, it really isn't surprising that that's how it's greeted. More's the pity.
In the end the nudity is strangely not a big deal at all. The show opens with a male stripper, who looks like an underwear catalogue model, plying his trade with consummate professionalism right down to his shiny red thong. He was bronzed and slippery-looking and overwhelmingly plastic. By comparison, the six steel workers (pasty, skinny, chubby or just plain ordinary) were, bizarrely, gloriously attractive. It didn't take long to get over the butt cheeks because there is something wonderfully humorous about the human body. It was the plastic stripper that jarred. And as for the end - the big reveal? Well that was done in front of a big bright lighting board on which The Full Monty was emblazoned, casting our six friends into silhouette and thereby protecting their modesty and sparing them the inevitable comparisons with their fellow cast members' members. Thank God!
I had a good night. The show wasn't bad at all and really the music was very good. I have to admit to blushing on several occasions but I think my discomfort was because I was with work colleagues whom I barely knew. It's a bit like when a rude bit comes on in a film and your granny's in the room. But all in all it was entertaining and a bit of a giggle. I'd give it a 6 and 1/2 out of 10.
I have to say that I really liked the film. It was a thought-provoking piece on the changing nature of gender identity, family and community with some serious points to make about friendship and body issues too. I thought that Robert Carlyle and Mark Addy were brilliant as the best friends whose confidence was shattered when they lost their jobs in a Sheffield Steel Mill. Without jobs and the means to provide for their families the friends reacted very differently. Gaz (Robert Carlyle) proved his masculinity by being unfaithful to his wife who promptly threw him out and replaced him with a steady bloke with a job and Dave (Mark Gaddy) sat around all day and ate his pain away. Disgusted with himself and his weight gain he pushed his adoring wife away convinced she would never want to be intimate with a "fat bastard" like him. Other characters like Gerald (Tom Wilkinson) kept his unemployment secret from his materialistic wife, convinced she would leave him if she realised he was poor and Lomper, the suicidal security guard, who's life revolved around his invalid mother, longed for friendship and love. Although funny and warm the film was also poignant and heart wrenching. The notion that men with nothing to lose could regain their self esteem by bearing all was more of a metaphor for the absolute need for honesty on relationships. It worked beautifully and deservedly won many awards when it was released in 1997.
The stage show was, however a very different animal. For a start it was adapted for Broadway so they changed the setting to Buffalo, New York and the names were Polish instead of Yorkshire names. As the music (Oh yeah! - it was a musical - the cast all sang) was written for that setting we had the weird situation of English actors putting on New York accents on an English stage in a play originally written about Yorkshiremen. This wouldn't have been so bad if the accents were half decent but there were one or two that sounded like they got to Buffalo via Saaaaf (South) London. Yikes! I have to say though that the singing was fantastic. The entire ensemble had amazing voices and the songs were really good.
Where it all went horribly wrong though was the addition of the audience. The problem is that half the assembled multitude thought they were at The Chippendales. The heart of the story, the poignancy and (for me) its strength was lost among the cat-calls and the whistling. The cast were valiant and did their jobs well and with great humour but, alas, the promise of The Full Monty proved too much for quite a few of the 'ladies' present. Not that you can blame them - that's how it's marketed - if you're going to advertise it as though it's just some strip show, it really isn't surprising that that's how it's greeted. More's the pity.
In the end the nudity is strangely not a big deal at all. The show opens with a male stripper, who looks like an underwear catalogue model, plying his trade with consummate professionalism right down to his shiny red thong. He was bronzed and slippery-looking and overwhelmingly plastic. By comparison, the six steel workers (pasty, skinny, chubby or just plain ordinary) were, bizarrely, gloriously attractive. It didn't take long to get over the butt cheeks because there is something wonderfully humorous about the human body. It was the plastic stripper that jarred. And as for the end - the big reveal? Well that was done in front of a big bright lighting board on which The Full Monty was emblazoned, casting our six friends into silhouette and thereby protecting their modesty and sparing them the inevitable comparisons with their fellow cast members' members. Thank God!
I had a good night. The show wasn't bad at all and really the music was very good. I have to admit to blushing on several occasions but I think my discomfort was because I was with work colleagues whom I barely knew. It's a bit like when a rude bit comes on in a film and your granny's in the room. But all in all it was entertaining and a bit of a giggle. I'd give it a 6 and 1/2 out of 10.
Saturday, 15 November 2008
What's the Point?
So yesterday, as a requirement of our Health and Safety audit at my school, I had to attend a training course on Moving and Handling of Objects and Loads. Basically - how to lift stuff without the need for suing your employer.
Nobody bothered to ask if I had ever been taught good lifting technique. The important part was that I hadn't got a certificate to say I'd been on a course so on a course I had to go.
It was three hours long. Two and a half hours of health and safety legislation, knowing your responsibilities, risk assessments and back health; a 10 minute coffee break; a 10 minute DVD on safe lifting and movement techniques; five minutes on writing a risk assessment for moving a small practically weightless box from the floor, walking with it across the floor and putting it down on a chair. Then lifting it off the chair, walking with it across the floor and putting it back down on the floor again. After which I was observed taking said terrible risk.
At no point was there even an object in the room that was big, heavy or awkward. So therefore we had no discernible risk to assess. There was a 2-bullet point slide on team lifting and we did not have a practical. When I did injure my back 17 years ago it was lifting a heavy object with an over-zealous prick that caused it so I have a personal reason for thinking that it should have been tackled properly.
I have no problem with Health and Safety really (although it does seem to impede work or give lazy people the excuse not to do their jobs sometimes) but if you are going to make a firm pay to have their employee off work then at least make it work their while. This ass covering waste of time benefited nobody.
Still I now know the correct way to lift an small empty box. That should be an enormous help lifting 30-40lb children!
Nobody bothered to ask if I had ever been taught good lifting technique. The important part was that I hadn't got a certificate to say I'd been on a course so on a course I had to go.
It was three hours long. Two and a half hours of health and safety legislation, knowing your responsibilities, risk assessments and back health; a 10 minute coffee break; a 10 minute DVD on safe lifting and movement techniques; five minutes on writing a risk assessment for moving a small practically weightless box from the floor, walking with it across the floor and putting it down on a chair. Then lifting it off the chair, walking with it across the floor and putting it back down on the floor again. After which I was observed taking said terrible risk.
At no point was there even an object in the room that was big, heavy or awkward. So therefore we had no discernible risk to assess. There was a 2-bullet point slide on team lifting and we did not have a practical. When I did injure my back 17 years ago it was lifting a heavy object with an over-zealous prick that caused it so I have a personal reason for thinking that it should have been tackled properly.
I have no problem with Health and Safety really (although it does seem to impede work or give lazy people the excuse not to do their jobs sometimes) but if you are going to make a firm pay to have their employee off work then at least make it work their while. This ass covering waste of time benefited nobody.
Still I now know the correct way to lift an small empty box. That should be an enormous help lifting 30-40lb children!
Friday, 14 November 2008
Proud!
I just want to say that I am the proudest Mum there is today. Yesterday Hubby went to, what they questionably term, learning review day, at my two older kids' secondary school. It's when you meet the teachers and get feedback on progress and all that gizz. Well it turns out that Big Son and Daughter are doing us proud and terms like "excellent pupil" and "hard work" and "pleasure to teach" were bandied around with great enthusiasm. It does our hearts good to know that they are thriving in their new schools. It was such a worry when we pulled them away from their old schools and all their friends when we moved last year. But they are both doing brilliantly and we're beaming with them.
Then today, when I got home from a course I was on, I found a card from Big Son's English teacher waiting for me. When a child does an excellent piece of work their teacher often writes home to congratulate them and also let the parents know. His teacher wrote
My cup runneth over!
**I will probably do a post on the theatre trip on Sunday as I'm not in much tomorrow!**
Then today, when I got home from a course I was on, I found a card from Big Son's English teacher waiting for me. When a child does an excellent piece of work their teacher often writes home to congratulate them and also let the parents know. His teacher wrote
"I'm marking his story at home and it's fantastic. I had to write straight away and let you know: you have an author in the making."
My cup runneth over!
**I will probably do a post on the theatre trip on Sunday as I'm not in much tomorrow!**
Thursday, 13 November 2008
And Now For A Cultural Interlude...
I'm off to the theatre tonight. I literally can't remember the last time I went to a play. I know that two years ago I went to a musical in The West End called Dancing In The Streets which was all about the rise of Motown. It was wall to wall music and was fantastic but not exactly a play. So barring the ones my children have done at school I think (but I'm not sure) I might have to go back to the early 90's when I saw The Tempest at the Barbican done by the RSC. That's shocking really!
Anyway tonight I'm going to see a play with music in it - I don't think the cast sing. It's a work outing to celebrate the 60th birthday of the school bursar. We're going to see The Full Monty.
I know! But it's not The Dreamboys - its about unemployed steelworkers and the misery of life on the dole. To music. With naked men at the end.
I'll let you know if it's any good tomorrow.
Anyway tonight I'm going to see a play with music in it - I don't think the cast sing. It's a work outing to celebrate the 60th birthday of the school bursar. We're going to see The Full Monty.
I know! But it's not The Dreamboys - its about unemployed steelworkers and the misery of life on the dole. To music. With naked men at the end.
I'll let you know if it's any good tomorrow.
Wednesday, 12 November 2008
The Gauntlet Has Been Thrown Down
Thanks for all the positive feedback on my little stroll around. When I shamelessly ripped the idea off Vanilla it was because I thought it was brilliant to see just how similar and how strikingly different her environs were in Cape Town to mine in South East England. For instance we drive on the same side (the left) but Vanilla has the Indonesian Embassy on her doorstep whereas I have a 14th Century pub. And I thought - it's the stuff that you see every day that you take for granted that might be unique to your universe. Maybe you pass a homeless guy every day who farts the alphabet for loose change - you might think he's a PIA but I might think he's fantastic 'colour'. Perhaps there's a peeling poster with half the words missing that's been there for years and you've often wondered what it used to say? Perhaps there's a bit of broken pavement that's tripped you up more often than you care to mention and one of these days you're planning on complaining about it (or perhaps you'll wait till you've broken your foot).
These little windows into (what we ourselves perceive as) the monotony of our lives, actually tell sweet and idiosyncratic stories of our daily existence.
So I challenge you. Next time you go out for a walk or, as Vanilla did, take a drive around your gaff, why not bring a camera with you and snap some of your neighbourhood to share with us. Be creative - there's no need to say where it is if you like to be private - just try it.
I know I'll find it fascinating!
These little windows into (what we ourselves perceive as) the monotony of our lives, actually tell sweet and idiosyncratic stories of our daily existence.
So I challenge you. Next time you go out for a walk or, as Vanilla did, take a drive around your gaff, why not bring a camera with you and snap some of your neighbourhood to share with us. Be creative - there's no need to say where it is if you like to be private - just try it.
I know I'll find it fascinating!
Tuesday, 11 November 2008
On A Wild And Windy November Day.....
**This is the post that should've gone up yesterday.**
Inspired by Absolute Vanilla (and when I say inspired - you know I mean I'm ripping off her fabulous idea), I've decided to take you on a walk with me (and The Pooch) through the wild, wild November weather, around my neighbourhood. The aim of this is just to show you what I see every day. It's not an historical tour. It's more of a peek into my world.
I live in a village so tiny it doesn't even qualify for the term 'village" - it's called a Hamlet. This is because it doesn't have it's own church. Too small. The local Church of England church (which dates back to the early 13th Century) is about 2 miles down the road. It's wonderful and rural and quiet and quintessentially English. I love living here.
Aside from the fact that I am severely photographically challenged I have to warn you that it was pouring with rain and I couldn't see through my specs most of the time. The quality of the following is therefore pretty poor. Looking at them I have to say I'm disappointed by how static they are. I want a Harry Potter Wizarding camera because these just don't convey how blustery it was. The wind was howling like a banshee and if it hadn't been chucking it down I'd have been soaked by the water that was being shaken out of the trees.
To begin then....
So this is my little cul-de-sac. Pooch takes off ahead, as usual. She's very excited!
Turning left at the end of my road and we're on School Lane. These Cottages were originally built by the council as cheap housing for locals. Along the grass verge were planted an avenue of maple trees which I guess is why they call the Mapleleaf Cottages.
Just along this road is where Small Son goes to school. It's literally a minute's walk from the house.
Poochie is still barrelling ahead as we pass this beautiful beech hedge.
In case you wondered why I was leaving the dog run off the lead, it's because she's well trained. When she comes to the point where we have to cross the street she sits down and waits for me. That and I shout "WAIT". Good Pooch.
Lead on and we head to the end of the road.
At the intersection is where we find the village pub and pond. Mr and Mrs Duckie don't seem to mind that it's pouring down!
Whizzing across the road here's the gate into the quagmire of fun. Once through here Poochie is off the lead and free to chase rabbits and shoo the pheasants into the air.
WAIT FOR ME!
She has to wait for me actually because I have to open (and close - I know the countryside code) the gate into the next field. This is where I sit and watch the clouds go by. Today, though, I appear to be walking through a cloud so I press onward trying not to think about how wet I'm getting.
Pooch regularly disappears into the hedgerow to chase rabbits. It's really funny when they don't run fast enough because she stops to give them a chance to get away. Here she is popping back through the hedge after a jolly good chase. As usual - completely rabbitless.
Into the woods and the first thing that's noticeable is that the tiny little bubbling brook has flooded and running rather more rapidly than usual.
Still there's lots of prettiness to be seen.
Don't be fooled by this little slope - one false step and you're on your arse slip-slidin' away!
I do a full circuit around the wood back past the bench again and out to the road by the pub.
Facing the other way we're on the homeward stretch.
Past the converted stables with the funny little chimney thing on the roof.
How old is this sign? The red edging is almost faded away. It's rather battered too. And if truth be told, although beautifully legible from the pathway, I doubt very much any passing cars ever notice it!
And here we are - back again. I hope that you had fun coming on my little venture into masochism. I advise getting straight into jammies and warm socks and having a big mug of soup.
From Poochie and me. Ta-rah!
Of course, because the fates' sense of humour is notoriously perverse, the sun is shining in all its glory today. So I'm off out now to do it all again in what are hopefully friendlier conditions!
Inspired by Absolute Vanilla (and when I say inspired - you know I mean I'm ripping off her fabulous idea), I've decided to take you on a walk with me (and The Pooch) through the wild, wild November weather, around my neighbourhood. The aim of this is just to show you what I see every day. It's not an historical tour. It's more of a peek into my world.
I live in a village so tiny it doesn't even qualify for the term 'village" - it's called a Hamlet. This is because it doesn't have it's own church. Too small. The local Church of England church (which dates back to the early 13th Century) is about 2 miles down the road. It's wonderful and rural and quiet and quintessentially English. I love living here.
Aside from the fact that I am severely photographically challenged I have to warn you that it was pouring with rain and I couldn't see through my specs most of the time. The quality of the following is therefore pretty poor. Looking at them I have to say I'm disappointed by how static they are. I want a Harry Potter Wizarding camera because these just don't convey how blustery it was. The wind was howling like a banshee and if it hadn't been chucking it down I'd have been soaked by the water that was being shaken out of the trees.
To begin then....
So this is my little cul-de-sac. Pooch takes off ahead, as usual. She's very excited!
Turning left at the end of my road and we're on School Lane. These Cottages were originally built by the council as cheap housing for locals. Along the grass verge were planted an avenue of maple trees which I guess is why they call the Mapleleaf Cottages.
Just along this road is where Small Son goes to school. It's literally a minute's walk from the house.
Poochie is still barrelling ahead as we pass this beautiful beech hedge.
In case you wondered why I was leaving the dog run off the lead, it's because she's well trained. When she comes to the point where we have to cross the street she sits down and waits for me. That and I shout "WAIT". Good Pooch.
Lead on and we head to the end of the road.
At the intersection is where we find the village pub and pond. Mr and Mrs Duckie don't seem to mind that it's pouring down!
Whizzing across the road here's the gate into the quagmire of fun. Once through here Poochie is off the lead and free to chase rabbits and shoo the pheasants into the air.
WAIT FOR ME!
She has to wait for me actually because I have to open (and close - I know the countryside code) the gate into the next field. This is where I sit and watch the clouds go by. Today, though, I appear to be walking through a cloud so I press onward trying not to think about how wet I'm getting.
Pooch regularly disappears into the hedgerow to chase rabbits. It's really funny when they don't run fast enough because she stops to give them a chance to get away. Here she is popping back through the hedge after a jolly good chase. As usual - completely rabbitless.
Into the woods and the first thing that's noticeable is that the tiny little bubbling brook has flooded and running rather more rapidly than usual.
Still there's lots of prettiness to be seen.
Don't be fooled by this little slope - one false step and you're on your arse slip-slidin' away!
I do a full circuit around the wood back past the bench again and out to the road by the pub.
Facing the other way we're on the homeward stretch.
Past the converted stables with the funny little chimney thing on the roof.
How old is this sign? The red edging is almost faded away. It's rather battered too. And if truth be told, although beautifully legible from the pathway, I doubt very much any passing cars ever notice it!
And here we are - back again. I hope that you had fun coming on my little venture into masochism. I advise getting straight into jammies and warm socks and having a big mug of soup.
From Poochie and me. Ta-rah!
Of course, because the fates' sense of humour is notoriously perverse, the sun is shining in all its glory today. So I'm off out now to do it all again in what are hopefully friendlier conditions!
Monday, 10 November 2008
Updating Y'all
I have been trying to upload photos all afternoon but Blogger is being slow and uncooperative. I shall persevere and hopefully you'll be able to join me on a soggy stroll around my manor (that's slang for 'the place where I reside').
But I can promise you that I got muddy.
And wet.
Ah the joy of November. And speaking of November if you want to know how it feels over here at this time of year then scoot yer butts over to Bee's because her post today was fab and it really made me want to go to her house for dinner. And leftovers.
AND … the best news of the week … (trumpets sound, drums roll, a big fat bloke with a bell shouts Oh Yez! Oh Yez!) … the fantastically wonderful Kiersten has landed herself an agent. WOO! HOO! Let the joy ring out throughout the land.
CONGRATULATIONS KIERSTEN!
I am overcome with happiness - I must go and make some sausage and butternut squash bake! (That's not a euphemism - I have to go make dinner).
YEAY!
But I can promise you that I got muddy.
And wet.
Ah the joy of November. And speaking of November if you want to know how it feels over here at this time of year then scoot yer butts over to Bee's because her post today was fab and it really made me want to go to her house for dinner. And leftovers.
AND … the best news of the week … (trumpets sound, drums roll, a big fat bloke with a bell shouts Oh Yez! Oh Yez!) … the fantastically wonderful Kiersten has landed herself an agent. WOO! HOO! Let the joy ring out throughout the land.
CONGRATULATIONS KIERSTEN!
I am overcome with happiness - I must go and make some sausage and butternut squash bake! (That's not a euphemism - I have to go make dinner).
YEAY!
Sunday, 9 November 2008
In the Dark, Dark Night …
Last night the moon was hidden behind a think blanket of cloud. By midnight, when our street lights went out, (it's the countryside - we don't do light pollution) it was pitch black. As I climbed into bed, slowly acclimatising to the shadows, Hubby came upstairs too.
"It's a bit dark," he said, shuffling about trying to avoid furniture.
"Must be the complete absence of light," I replied, watching him grope around in the chest of drawers for his jammies. By now my eyes had adjusted as much as they were going to and I could just about pick out his dark shadow fiddling about with something vaguely trouser-shaped.
"I can't tell which is the front and which is the back."
"Feel around for a tag they're normally at the back."
"Nope. Can't find it. Sod it! I'll just put them on and hope for the best." After a small bit of scrabbling about, jammie bottoms were on.
"Alright?"
"Weeeell … I don't suppose it's a good sign that the pockets are going the wrong way."
As he whipped them off again to turn them round I helpfully pointed out,
"You know, sometimes it's just easier to put the light on."
"It's a bit dark," he said, shuffling about trying to avoid furniture.
"Must be the complete absence of light," I replied, watching him grope around in the chest of drawers for his jammies. By now my eyes had adjusted as much as they were going to and I could just about pick out his dark shadow fiddling about with something vaguely trouser-shaped.
"I can't tell which is the front and which is the back."
"Feel around for a tag they're normally at the back."
"Nope. Can't find it. Sod it! I'll just put them on and hope for the best." After a small bit of scrabbling about, jammie bottoms were on.
"Alright?"
"Weeeell … I don't suppose it's a good sign that the pockets are going the wrong way."
As he whipped them off again to turn them round I helpfully pointed out,
"You know, sometimes it's just easier to put the light on."
Saturday, 8 November 2008
After Prop 8
RIGHT! – ATTEMPT NO. 67 (or something). This post has been a doozy to write. I hope I’ve done the subject justice.
California voted this week to add the phrase
to the constitution, effectively overturning the ruling of the California Supreme Court (earlier this year) to the effect that statutes that limit marriage to a relationship between a man and a woman violated the equal protection clause of the California Constitution and held that persons of the same sex were entitled to marry. The proposition was passed by 52% to 48%, a margin of approx 500,000 votes. (Although it has to be said that these figures did not include the as-yet-uncounted absentee and provisional ballots which may total as many as 2.7 million).
What this result means is that an entire section of the community, gay men and women, are denied in the constitution the same rights as their heterosexual counterparts, the right to marry. You might wonder what that has to do with me as I am heterosexual and I don’t live in California. Well my answer is that it has everything to do with me because I am a human being and this is an issue for humanity.
Humanity is an amazing thing. Look at us! We come in all shapes and sizes; we have widely differing belief systems, traditions, cultures, abilities and we come in a variety of hues and sexual orientations. We are a diverse lot and, I feel, all the better for it. However we are also a naturally suspicious lot and we’ve managed to incorporate these suspicions of people, who are other than us, into our culture. For thousands of years we lived culturally separate lives and our entrenched ways of thinking became part of those separate identities. But in the last couple of hundred years this world has become a mixed up place. Given the seismic shift in the way humanity now lives, there has needed to be a seismic shift in attitudes and behavior. I think that this marks a huge leap in the evolution of humanity. It requires of us to throw off the entrenched suspicions of yesteryear and embrace tolerance and respect of those around us, regardless of perceived differences.
I should put my cards on the table here before I go any further. If I were a Californian I would have voted an emphatic NO to the proposition. And I would not have had to think twice about it. To me the fact that gay people don’t automatically have this right is ridiculous. Think about it. Two people who love each other, who want to live a life of monogamy with each other, who want to give each other financial security, who want to be each other’s legal next of kin and want the protection offered by the law for the right to do that– surely this is something to be encouraged. This is an endorsement of loving relationships and of family stability. To me it just makes sense.
What has upset me most about the campaign and the result is the depth of hatred I have witnessed. There have been slurs and lies printed, TV campaigns that preyed on the fears of the ignorant and huge quantities of intimidation used. And mud was slung in every direction. I think it was shameful. As a Catholic I have to say how ashamed I am of the way that the Catholic Church and certain Catholic associations have conducted themselves during the campaign. Let me say right now that I do not believe that Churches and affiliated organizations should have the right to finance campaigns on a matter of law and the constitution. If they feel that it is an issue of morality then they should issue guidelines through their churches to their members. “This is what your church believes and this is why….” And then leave the voting down to the individual’s conscience. The Catholic Church and its affiliates had no moral right to spend millions of dollars in order to influence a ballot on a point of law and I am offended that they have done so claiming to represent me. That point of view does not and never will, represent me.
I live my life by The Golden Rule: “Love thy neighbour as thy self.” It’s a good way of thinking – I would encourage everyone to give it a shot. It encourages you to walk in the shoes of another and consider their point of view. I find if I just think - “How would I feel if that was me … or my child?” - I think it generally clarifies my feelings for me.
So here’s the thing – if I was gay and I was in love and wanted to spend the rest of my life with that woman – then I would want to get married to her. I know this because I am married and I love being married. I found a fundamental and beautiful change evolved in my relationship when we married. Promising to love someone for the rest of your life, to share everything you own, to take care of each other in good times and bad, in sickness and health, is a huge thing to do. You really have to have total trust in each other and if you’re as lucky as me, you feel bound to that person – I was going to say on a deeply spiritual level but I think that’s wrong – on a deeply, impossibly, human level. And I could never deny someone the chance to have this experience simply because the person they love is the same sex as they are.
What prompted me to write about this issue was reading Sarah Laurenson’s blog where she so eloquently shared with us her devastation at the result of the vote. She married the love of her life on June 27th this year. It was a beautiful ceremony and all her bloggy friends threw cyber rice and wished them love and happiness in their life together. The hurt she now feels knowing that more than 50% of her neighbours voted to invalidate her marriage has left her questioning whether or not they should leave the state and move somewhere the law is more accepting of them. I feel so sad and angry that human beings can be so intolerant of each other. Is it so difficult to be accepting of people’s differences? I hope that Sarah and her wife decide not to leave their home that they love because I feel sure that the proposition will not be allowed to stand because it seeks to include discrimination in the law which in itself in unconstitutional.
Is respect and tolerance too much to ask? I hope not because I think that humanity in all its diversity is amazing. Look at how happy Sarah and her wife are. What is there to fear in that? For goodness sake – it’s only love.
California voted this week to add the phrase
"Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California."
to the constitution, effectively overturning the ruling of the California Supreme Court (earlier this year) to the effect that statutes that limit marriage to a relationship between a man and a woman violated the equal protection clause of the California Constitution and held that persons of the same sex were entitled to marry. The proposition was passed by 52% to 48%, a margin of approx 500,000 votes. (Although it has to be said that these figures did not include the as-yet-uncounted absentee and provisional ballots which may total as many as 2.7 million).
What this result means is that an entire section of the community, gay men and women, are denied in the constitution the same rights as their heterosexual counterparts, the right to marry. You might wonder what that has to do with me as I am heterosexual and I don’t live in California. Well my answer is that it has everything to do with me because I am a human being and this is an issue for humanity.
Humanity is an amazing thing. Look at us! We come in all shapes and sizes; we have widely differing belief systems, traditions, cultures, abilities and we come in a variety of hues and sexual orientations. We are a diverse lot and, I feel, all the better for it. However we are also a naturally suspicious lot and we’ve managed to incorporate these suspicions of people, who are other than us, into our culture. For thousands of years we lived culturally separate lives and our entrenched ways of thinking became part of those separate identities. But in the last couple of hundred years this world has become a mixed up place. Given the seismic shift in the way humanity now lives, there has needed to be a seismic shift in attitudes and behavior. I think that this marks a huge leap in the evolution of humanity. It requires of us to throw off the entrenched suspicions of yesteryear and embrace tolerance and respect of those around us, regardless of perceived differences.
I should put my cards on the table here before I go any further. If I were a Californian I would have voted an emphatic NO to the proposition. And I would not have had to think twice about it. To me the fact that gay people don’t automatically have this right is ridiculous. Think about it. Two people who love each other, who want to live a life of monogamy with each other, who want to give each other financial security, who want to be each other’s legal next of kin and want the protection offered by the law for the right to do that– surely this is something to be encouraged. This is an endorsement of loving relationships and of family stability. To me it just makes sense.
What has upset me most about the campaign and the result is the depth of hatred I have witnessed. There have been slurs and lies printed, TV campaigns that preyed on the fears of the ignorant and huge quantities of intimidation used. And mud was slung in every direction. I think it was shameful. As a Catholic I have to say how ashamed I am of the way that the Catholic Church and certain Catholic associations have conducted themselves during the campaign. Let me say right now that I do not believe that Churches and affiliated organizations should have the right to finance campaigns on a matter of law and the constitution. If they feel that it is an issue of morality then they should issue guidelines through their churches to their members. “This is what your church believes and this is why….” And then leave the voting down to the individual’s conscience. The Catholic Church and its affiliates had no moral right to spend millions of dollars in order to influence a ballot on a point of law and I am offended that they have done so claiming to represent me. That point of view does not and never will, represent me.
I live my life by The Golden Rule: “Love thy neighbour as thy self.” It’s a good way of thinking – I would encourage everyone to give it a shot. It encourages you to walk in the shoes of another and consider their point of view. I find if I just think - “How would I feel if that was me … or my child?” - I think it generally clarifies my feelings for me.
So here’s the thing – if I was gay and I was in love and wanted to spend the rest of my life with that woman – then I would want to get married to her. I know this because I am married and I love being married. I found a fundamental and beautiful change evolved in my relationship when we married. Promising to love someone for the rest of your life, to share everything you own, to take care of each other in good times and bad, in sickness and health, is a huge thing to do. You really have to have total trust in each other and if you’re as lucky as me, you feel bound to that person – I was going to say on a deeply spiritual level but I think that’s wrong – on a deeply, impossibly, human level. And I could never deny someone the chance to have this experience simply because the person they love is the same sex as they are.
What prompted me to write about this issue was reading Sarah Laurenson’s blog where she so eloquently shared with us her devastation at the result of the vote. She married the love of her life on June 27th this year. It was a beautiful ceremony and all her bloggy friends threw cyber rice and wished them love and happiness in their life together. The hurt she now feels knowing that more than 50% of her neighbours voted to invalidate her marriage has left her questioning whether or not they should leave the state and move somewhere the law is more accepting of them. I feel so sad and angry that human beings can be so intolerant of each other. Is it so difficult to be accepting of people’s differences? I hope that Sarah and her wife decide not to leave their home that they love because I feel sure that the proposition will not be allowed to stand because it seeks to include discrimination in the law which in itself in unconstitutional.
Is respect and tolerance too much to ask? I hope not because I think that humanity in all its diversity is amazing. Look at how happy Sarah and her wife are. What is there to fear in that? For goodness sake – it’s only love.
Friday, 7 November 2008
In Which My Dog Is A Real Girl.
Thanks everyone for the lovely birthday greetings yesterday. You sure know how to make a girl feel loved. My family knows too and we had a lovely dinner last night made for me by Hubby at which I ate my fill and then some. When I was surprised with a birthday cake for afters I could not even contemplate a slice. So as I left for work this morning my birthday cake was on our island unit back in the box only missing three slices (about a quarter).
"Goody," I thought, "there'll be something chocolatey for me to tuck in to with my tea this afternoon."
I returned home at about quarter to one to be greeted by Pooch in her usual bouncy manner. She went into heat a few days ago and being cooped up inside is making her stir crazy.
"Hello Sweety. Get down. Are you all excited to see me? Get down. For God's sake dog - these trousers are cream - for the love of all that's holy WILL YOU GET DOWN!!!!"
Suitable reprimanded she bounced off ahead of me into the kitchen. As I came to the door I realised with a sinking feeling that the floor was covered with debris. Bits of purple and silver everywhere.
"You didn't? What? The whole cake? All of it?" She so knew that she'd done wrong. Peeking up from her cowering position she gave me a look I recognised.
"I'm hormonal! Don't judge me - you of all people know that sometimes you just need chocolate."
She has a point.
Just in case all you dog lovers are horrified, I am aware that chocolate is toxic to dogs. I've been keeping a close eye on her and she has suffered no side-effects whatsoever. Makes me wonder just how much chocolate was actually in my chocolate cake!
Also can I briefly draw your attention to the little posteen I wrote below.
"Goody," I thought, "there'll be something chocolatey for me to tuck in to with my tea this afternoon."
I returned home at about quarter to one to be greeted by Pooch in her usual bouncy manner. She went into heat a few days ago and being cooped up inside is making her stir crazy.
"Hello Sweety. Get down. Are you all excited to see me? Get down. For God's sake dog - these trousers are cream - for the love of all that's holy WILL YOU GET DOWN!!!!"
Suitable reprimanded she bounced off ahead of me into the kitchen. As I came to the door I realised with a sinking feeling that the floor was covered with debris. Bits of purple and silver everywhere.
"You didn't? What? The whole cake? All of it?" She so knew that she'd done wrong. Peeking up from her cowering position she gave me a look I recognised.
"I'm hormonal! Don't judge me - you of all people know that sometimes you just need chocolate."
She has a point.
Just in case all you dog lovers are horrified, I am aware that chocolate is toxic to dogs. I've been keeping a close eye on her and she has suffered no side-effects whatsoever. Makes me wonder just how much chocolate was actually in my chocolate cake!
Also can I briefly draw your attention to the little posteen I wrote below.
Just Letting You Know
There are things that I wish to say about the Proposition 8 vote that was held in California this week. I've been working on a post all day but the more I wrote the more issues that I came up against that I couldn't ignore. I really want to do a coherent post and what I have right now is all over the place. I'll continue to work on it and hopefully I will produce something over the weekend that's worthy of being read.
Thursday, 6 November 2008
And More Importantly...
At 10am, forty two years ago, as the bells for Mass were tolling in the distance, I was born. Weighing in at eight and a half pounds, I was my mother's heaviest baby, the fifth in a brood of seven. Apparently I was born in about 20 minutes. Prompt and considerate from an early age - Jane Hannan had arrived. Since that moment I have pretty much been late for everything and almost guaranteed to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. So I started off enthusiastic but lost momentum quickly.
Aha! This explains so much! (NaNo is goin' slow!)
Anyhoo Happy Birthday to me.
Aha! This explains so much! (NaNo is goin' slow!)
Anyhoo Happy Birthday to me.
Wednesday, 5 November 2008
Yes We Can!
What a rallying statement. I thought that the speech was inspiring and moving. I cried. I watched the results come in for as long as my eyes would permit me. Once Ohio came in and I was fairly confident of the result I nodded off at about 3.15 GMT. At 6.30 when I woke up I caught up on the three hours I missed. The BBC called it as soon as Washington State came in. I wish I had been able to stay awake.The first speech I watched was John McCain's concession speech which I thought was wonderful. He conceded with amazing grace and dignity. A fellow blogger commented that "the guy has class" and I have to say I thought that was one classy speech. That said I couldn't be happier with the result.
Thank you America. I hope that the next four years see a change in global politics, greater cooperation and a peaceful solution to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. That's a hell of a weight to have on your shoulders - but if anybody can I believe that Barack Obama can.
Tuesday, 4 November 2008
November 4th
November 4th. November 4th. That date's important for some reason. It's my friend's birthday... but no that's not it.... there's something else...
Oh yeah! The fate of the world is being decided today. In the USA.
I know that sounds a bit OTT but let's face it it's true. Whatever the voters in the US decide today has huge and far-reaching effects on the rest of us.
On November 6th 2000 I went to sleep thinking I'd had a good birthday. The candidate I most wanted to win, Al Gore, had won and the world had been saved from George W Bush. I slept well that night. I was more than a little suprised the next morning to discover that nobody knew what was going on.
What would have happened if those Florida voters had been permitted to vote - if those dodgy ballots with their hanging chads were capable of being read?…All the exit polls said Gore. In the end it came down to just over 500 votes and we got Bush. Maybe I'm naive but I'm sure that post 9/11 the Iraqi preemptive invasion would not have taken place. The world may have looked very different today.
So I'd just like to encourage those of you who can, to exercise your right to vote. Because every vote counts and polls can be wrong. I wouldn't presume to tell you how to vote just please, if it is your right to do so, then please do.
Oh yeah! The fate of the world is being decided today. In the USA.
I know that sounds a bit OTT but let's face it it's true. Whatever the voters in the US decide today has huge and far-reaching effects on the rest of us.
On November 6th 2000 I went to sleep thinking I'd had a good birthday. The candidate I most wanted to win, Al Gore, had won and the world had been saved from George W Bush. I slept well that night. I was more than a little suprised the next morning to discover that nobody knew what was going on.
What would have happened if those Florida voters had been permitted to vote - if those dodgy ballots with their hanging chads were capable of being read?…All the exit polls said Gore. In the end it came down to just over 500 votes and we got Bush. Maybe I'm naive but I'm sure that post 9/11 the Iraqi preemptive invasion would not have taken place. The world may have looked very different today.
So I'd just like to encourage those of you who can, to exercise your right to vote. Because every vote counts and polls can be wrong. I wouldn't presume to tell you how to vote just please, if it is your right to do so, then please do.
Monday, 3 November 2008
What a Beepin' Racket!
Everything beeps.
Recently I was laying in bed about to drop off to sleep when the dishwasher started beeping. "I'm finished" is what it was telling me but honestly I got the message the first time - it really didn't have to keep it up for 15 minutes. By that time I was experiencing the anticipation of the beep and that was keeping me awake. When at last it didn't come I began to relax and nod off again only to be woken by a different beep - this time much more insistent - from the washing machine. It was behind two sets of closed doors and had I not been awake it wouldn't have bothered me but even though it was distant it bugged me till I got up.
Then I really was awake. As I lay in my bed busy not sleeping I began to think about the insidiousness of the electronic beep. It's all around us - reminding us, cajoling us, keeping us on our toes.
The first thing I hear in the morning is an alarm going off in my daughter's room which, despite the fact that it is right next to her, she ignores. Occasionally she will turn it off but normally only after I've shouted like a demon to "turn that ***sted thing off!"
By that time I'm attuned to the other alarm (of Big Son) going off. His one has a snooze function and also a beep that becomes louder and more annoying the longer you ignore it - up until it's a continuous tone. He normally sleep through it.
My two older children get up earlier than me as they have to leave to catch a bus. It's a busy time downstairs as Hubby and older kids make lunches and breakfast and the microwave is busy making porridge and softening butter. It beeps for a good half hour off and on. Big Son's digital watch beeps every half hour to keep him focussed on the time and Daughter then has an alarm on her phone to remind her when it's 8am so that she doesn't miss the bus. If there are any text messages to be sent there is endless beeping and buzzing too until at last at about 8.05 quiet returns. Small Son and I manage to get ourselves sorted without recourse to a single beeping thing before we head out the door.
Driving through town there are something like seven sets of traffic lights, each with a pedestrian crossing, which beep when the green man (WALK sign) is showing. It's very seldom a drive around isn't interrupted by sirens (even in my little backwater). You pop into the shop on the way to work and the tills beep, the bar-code readers beep, the card readers beep, the ATM beeps as if objecting to you withdrawing your own cash and when you get back to your car the remote control central locking beeps at you.
By the time I have arrived into work to sixteen hyperactive four/five year-olds I am already on edge from the cacophonous world around me.
Craving quiet and solitude I revel in the walks I have with the dog in the clean country air. Is it any wonder then that I scream with fury at the air force chinooks that regularly pass across this green and pleasant land (probably taking Prince Wills to another party).
Everything we own these days is on keypads (phones, alarm systems, remotes) and every one of the beeps to let you know that you've pressed a button. The piece de resistance is when I come to make the dinner at night. We don't have any gas in my village so my hob is an electric halogen hob. It is completely flat. All the controls are touch sensitive and, you guessed it, every time it is touched it beeps. If your vegetables boil over and hot water gets on these controls it screeches an error message at you. Beep! Beep! Beep! Bloody Bloody BEEEEEEEEEEEP!
By the end of the day I'm frazzled. I put on the dishwasher and go to bed. With any luck I'll already be asleep by the time it starts to beep.
Recently I was laying in bed about to drop off to sleep when the dishwasher started beeping. "I'm finished" is what it was telling me but honestly I got the message the first time - it really didn't have to keep it up for 15 minutes. By that time I was experiencing the anticipation of the beep and that was keeping me awake. When at last it didn't come I began to relax and nod off again only to be woken by a different beep - this time much more insistent - from the washing machine. It was behind two sets of closed doors and had I not been awake it wouldn't have bothered me but even though it was distant it bugged me till I got up.
Then I really was awake. As I lay in my bed busy not sleeping I began to think about the insidiousness of the electronic beep. It's all around us - reminding us, cajoling us, keeping us on our toes.
The first thing I hear in the morning is an alarm going off in my daughter's room which, despite the fact that it is right next to her, she ignores. Occasionally she will turn it off but normally only after I've shouted like a demon to "turn that ***sted thing off!"
By that time I'm attuned to the other alarm (of Big Son) going off. His one has a snooze function and also a beep that becomes louder and more annoying the longer you ignore it - up until it's a continuous tone. He normally sleep through it.
My two older children get up earlier than me as they have to leave to catch a bus. It's a busy time downstairs as Hubby and older kids make lunches and breakfast and the microwave is busy making porridge and softening butter. It beeps for a good half hour off and on. Big Son's digital watch beeps every half hour to keep him focussed on the time and Daughter then has an alarm on her phone to remind her when it's 8am so that she doesn't miss the bus. If there are any text messages to be sent there is endless beeping and buzzing too until at last at about 8.05 quiet returns. Small Son and I manage to get ourselves sorted without recourse to a single beeping thing before we head out the door.
Driving through town there are something like seven sets of traffic lights, each with a pedestrian crossing, which beep when the green man (WALK sign) is showing. It's very seldom a drive around isn't interrupted by sirens (even in my little backwater). You pop into the shop on the way to work and the tills beep, the bar-code readers beep, the card readers beep, the ATM beeps as if objecting to you withdrawing your own cash and when you get back to your car the remote control central locking beeps at you.
By the time I have arrived into work to sixteen hyperactive four/five year-olds I am already on edge from the cacophonous world around me.
Craving quiet and solitude I revel in the walks I have with the dog in the clean country air. Is it any wonder then that I scream with fury at the air force chinooks that regularly pass across this green and pleasant land (probably taking Prince Wills to another party).
Everything we own these days is on keypads (phones, alarm systems, remotes) and every one of the beeps to let you know that you've pressed a button. The piece de resistance is when I come to make the dinner at night. We don't have any gas in my village so my hob is an electric halogen hob. It is completely flat. All the controls are touch sensitive and, you guessed it, every time it is touched it beeps. If your vegetables boil over and hot water gets on these controls it screeches an error message at you. Beep! Beep! Beep! Bloody Bloody BEEEEEEEEEEEP!
By the end of the day I'm frazzled. I put on the dishwasher and go to bed. With any luck I'll already be asleep by the time it starts to beep.
Sunday, 2 November 2008
In which JaneyV is Reverting to Type
One day in and I'm already behind. Story of my life. I'm supposed to do 2000 words a day and yesterday I did 1268. I thought I'd done 2268 so I stopped because I was trying to pace myself. (And the dog needed a walk and it was getting dark (It starts to get dark at 4pm now)). Turns out I need to practise my subtraction.
So today I need to do a minimum of 2732 words (I double checked this time) in order to catch up.
Better get on with it.
So today I need to do a minimum of 2732 words (I double checked this time) in order to catch up.
Better get on with it.
Saturday, 1 November 2008
NaNaNaNaNaNo or Blo
So November seems to be a month for crazy people forgetting they have lives and setting themselves ridiculous challenges. Last year, along with a friend, I did NaBloWriMo where I studiously blogged every day in November. I remember the writing got very thin around the third week and there was even the odd evening where I was desperate for my bed, it was ten to midnight and I still dragged myself in to that freezing cold back room in the house we were renting in order to get some words down that day. We did have another friend who started with us but gave up far too easily (dig,dig)! So when my friend emailed me about doing it again - I completely ignored the email. Sorry. But I did give it due consideration (only I then never fed back to you).
The reason why I didn't immediately go "YEAY - count me in!" was because I was thinking about NaNoWriMo. This little cookie challenges the mentally unstable to write an entire novel in the month of November. 50,000 words in one month. And no - you are not allowed to write the same word 50,000 times. Variation in words is important. The idea is to get the words and ideas on the page - to go for quantity NOT quality. This is is very important for me because The Project (which is what I have erstwhile nicknamed my Work In Progress (or WIP)) has faltered so very often because I was looking for perfection in my first draft and kept editing as I went along. The upshot of this is that I have dumped (I think) five beginnings to my book. (The total trashed word count is somewhere around 80 or 90,000 over those 5 starts - a book's-worth in fact). Frankly they were crap and I am happy to have gone for the start I currently have, but that's not the point. The point is that the story, the plot and the characters have never progressed further than that point because I was too busy being picky. I am now desperate to finish it. NaNoWriMo essentially gives me permission to go past the dodgy bits so I can get the meat and two veg of the thing down. I can then go back and trim the fat and add the intricate and delicate sauces later.
Now my novel is for older teens (say 14+) and the main character is Poppy - hence the wordcounter in the sidebar is labelled Poppy's Progress (I have a habit of mistyping her name so unfortunately she may occasionally end up being Poopy - this has nothing to do with how I feel about her, it's purely because the 'O' and 'P' are next to each other on the keyboard). I am going for about 80,000 words at a maximum of which I have already written about 20K. For the mathematically slow if you that actually means that I've challenged myself to write 60,000 words this month.
BWAHA -HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA! HA!
And to blog every day.
Have I bitten off more than I can chew? Absofragginlutely! But my goal is progress - getting past this hump and developing my story. Getting finished would just be the start - the real sweating will be in the editing but that will be another challenge again.
So there you have it. I haven't officially signed up for either. Being 20K in already is a bit of a cheat see and the blogging thing is just a ruse to keep me focussed on the novel thing. But I am psyched up and ready for it. I hope that you will tune in and cheer me on. I'd like to thank Natalie who is taking this month off from writing (seriously - that's going to be a big challenge for her - she's a writing cyborg) and who has kindly lent me her prolific Muse to shoo me along. And if you want to see how my blogging friends are doing in their efforts why not check out Aerin, Pete, Ello and Precie (who like me is doing her own version). Good luck to us.
We're all mad.
The reason why I didn't immediately go "YEAY - count me in!" was because I was thinking about NaNoWriMo. This little cookie challenges the mentally unstable to write an entire novel in the month of November. 50,000 words in one month. And no - you are not allowed to write the same word 50,000 times. Variation in words is important. The idea is to get the words and ideas on the page - to go for quantity NOT quality. This is is very important for me because The Project (which is what I have erstwhile nicknamed my Work In Progress (or WIP)) has faltered so very often because I was looking for perfection in my first draft and kept editing as I went along. The upshot of this is that I have dumped (I think) five beginnings to my book. (The total trashed word count is somewhere around 80 or 90,000 over those 5 starts - a book's-worth in fact). Frankly they were crap and I am happy to have gone for the start I currently have, but that's not the point. The point is that the story, the plot and the characters have never progressed further than that point because I was too busy being picky. I am now desperate to finish it. NaNoWriMo essentially gives me permission to go past the dodgy bits so I can get the meat and two veg of the thing down. I can then go back and trim the fat and add the intricate and delicate sauces later.
Now my novel is for older teens (say 14+) and the main character is Poppy - hence the wordcounter in the sidebar is labelled Poppy's Progress (I have a habit of mistyping her name so unfortunately she may occasionally end up being Poopy - this has nothing to do with how I feel about her, it's purely because the 'O' and 'P' are next to each other on the keyboard). I am going for about 80,000 words at a maximum of which I have already written about 20K. For the mathematically slow if you that actually means that I've challenged myself to write 60,000 words this month.
BWAHA -HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA! HA!
And to blog every day.
Have I bitten off more than I can chew? Absofragginlutely! But my goal is progress - getting past this hump and developing my story. Getting finished would just be the start - the real sweating will be in the editing but that will be another challenge again.
So there you have it. I haven't officially signed up for either. Being 20K in already is a bit of a cheat see and the blogging thing is just a ruse to keep me focussed on the novel thing. But I am psyched up and ready for it. I hope that you will tune in and cheer me on. I'd like to thank Natalie who is taking this month off from writing (seriously - that's going to be a big challenge for her - she's a writing cyborg) and who has kindly lent me her prolific Muse to shoo me along. And if you want to see how my blogging friends are doing in their efforts why not check out Aerin, Pete, Ello and Precie (who like me is doing her own version). Good luck to us.
We're all mad.
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