Truly Madly Christmas

Christmas things that drive me mad . . .

1) Coloured Christmas lights all over the house that flash
2) Anything that dances and plays a festive tune
3) Tinsel in all shapes, sizes, colours and thickness
4) Miserable staff wearing santa hats
5) Massive discounts on your guaranteed for Christmas sofa
6) Christmas outfits for pets
7) Same ten Christmas songs in every shop since October
8) Christmas earrings, especially if they flash or play a tune
9) People who queue from 3am in their sleeping bags outside Next
10) The generic soap cliff hanger, like I give a shit.

The Top 100 Questions My Three Year Old Asks Me Every Day

Is it time to get up yet?
Can I come in your bed until it is time to get up?
Why have you got your eyes shut?
Can I jump on your bed?
Why can't I jump on your bed?
Is it nice in hospital?
Can I jump on the beds there?
Can I wear your shoes?
Can I have an icecream for breakfast?
Why can't I have an icecream for breakfast?

Why do we need to go to the shops?
Do they sell toys?
Can I drive the car?
How big do I have to be to drive the car?
How big am I now?
Do dogs drive cars?
Are we at the shops yet?
Are we at the shops now?
Is this a toy shop?
Why do you need money?

Where does the money come from?
Is there a man inside there giving out the money?
Does he not get bored?
Does he want some lunch?
Is it time for lunch?
What am I having lunch?
What are you having for lunch?
Can I have what you're having for lunch?
Can I have crisps with mine?
And then what?

What can I have after my lunch?
Is it in the fridge?
Can I look in the fridge?
Is it a jelly?
Can we make a jelly?
Is the jelly ready yet?
Can I touch the jelly?
Can I go round the block on my bike?
Will you peddle it for me?
Do dogs ride bikes?

Can I go to nana's on my bike?
Can I have a bourbon biscuit at nana's?
Can I have two?
Can I have things on the tele that are not boring?
Can I play in the garden?
Can I play bubbles in the garden?
Will you blow the bubbles?
Can I blow the bubbles?
Can I drink it?
Why can't I drink it?

Will bubbles come out of my nose?
What about out of my bum if I pump?
Is that a worm?
Can I pick it up?
Do worms bite?
Can I take the worm to nana's?
Does nana like worms?
Why not?
Can I take her a slug instead?

Can we go to the big park?
Can we go to the little park?
Can I have an icecream after we've been to the park?
Can I have an icecream after my lunch?
Can we have lunch at the park?
Can we have lunch and then go back to the park?
Why can't you go to the park when it's dark?
Can't we take a torch?
Can you hold the torch?
Will you carry me home?

What are we having for tea?
Is that what I'm having?
Can I have a turkey dinosaur?
Can I have more sauce?
What can I have after?
Can I have an icecream?
Can I dip my icecream in my sauce?
Can I dip my icecream in your sauce?
Can I eat it in the lounge?
Can I have a tissue?

Do I have to have a bath?
Are you having a bath?
Can we get in the bath together?
Can I wear your pajamas?
Can I have a story?
Can I have three stories?
Will you clean my teeth for me?
Why is it still light outside?
Can I come down and watch the football?
Do I have to go to sleep, it's boring?

Classy!

Things I Remember

1) Climbing up the foot of my parents bed, squeezing between them at some ungodly hour of the morning then spending most of the time poking my dad's eyelid open with my thumb to see if he was really asleep.

2) Picnics on the moors with a flask of tea, beef paste sandwishes, bags of KP crisps and my mum's special canvas fold out chair.

3) Photograph albums full of various relatives stood in front of their cars.

4) Washday, also known as 'Mangle Monday' when, during school holidays, I was tasked with turning the handle while my mother fed and my brother held the basket.

5) My father's shot gun, displayed on the arch above the dining table.

6) A blackbird's nest in the bush by the shed with five bright yellow, expectant mouths reaching up like ceramic pie funnels.

7) Picking pretty flowers that turned out to be thistle heads.

8) The ceramic dray horse and barrels that stood on my great uncle's hearth, and his collection of old frying pans in case anyone needed a coal skuttle mending.

9) A jack russel who used to like to ride in the wheelbarrow.

10) The smell of my dad's shed, the sawdust under the lathe, the petrol for the strimmer, creosote and PVA.

Free Amusement

Now some folk find it hard to amuse kids on rainy days. I think I have an advantage, I think like a kid. So when faced with a rainy afternoon, a bored three year old and a mountain of toilet roll cardboard innards, I was possessed by something that would make Mister Maker wake up in a cold sweat (now if I discovered something to wake Sportacus up in a cold sweat, I think I could bottle it and become very rich indeed) The result was a kind of animal skittles game that kept her amused for ages and she kept going back to again, and again.

Added bonus, it cost nothing.

Other ideas for amusing kids for free.

1) Dress up in your best winter hats and scarves and go mountaineering to the landing, set up base camp and eat rations in a tent (saves on heating too)

2) Go to your local library, you can read as many new stories as you like and you don't even have to buy one out of guilt (like I sometimes do in Borders)

3) Play indoor rugby with a soft toy (a fluffy chicken works best)

4) Sort out your wardrobe (it's surprising how much fun kids can have trying on mummy's shoes and laughing at her big pants)

5) Put empty icecream tubs on your feet and go ice skating on the hall carpet

6) Make spaceman helmets from cornflake boxes and turn the kitchen into a shuttle with dining room chairs for seats and a cushion control console (you can then explore strange planets in your own living room such as Jelly-moon and the Bum-wiggle planet where the bot spiders come from)

7) The rubbish orchestra, now I know most three year olds don't need musical instruments to make a dreadful racket but you'd be surprised what you can do with elastic bands, bottles, rice, spoons and pans (other than make your neighbours write to the council)

8) Sock puppet theatre (it helps if the socks are clean, odd and have names like 'Wuzzlefuzz' and the 'Gum-gum Botty Wot')

9) Play shark attack (bit like pirates at school) put cushions on the floor and use the couch as a base. Take turns to be the circling shark in the water trying to catch the unwary sailors who fall in before they make it to safety.

10) Bake a cake. You don't need to be Nigella to follow a simple recipe (our favourite is banana cake - which is fortunate as I always seem to have a hand of slightly brown bananas begging not to be wasted) and you get to impress folk with your efforts. If it turns out crap, tell everyone the three year old did most of the work and they'll be full of nothing but exuberant praise as they bite into cake wrapped egg shell.

Unique, Like Everyone Else

Two in the Bush

You can tell the Spring Bank Holiday is approaching. You can't get parked within a five mile radius of Homebase, every guy you pass in the street has a growbag over his shoulder, you are awoken every morning by some guy trimming his hedge and kept awake every night by him cutting paving slabs.

Yes, it's that time of year again when we start to feel guilty over our long neglected gardens and make that weak and short lived commitment to do something about it. We pull out the worst offending weeds, take some wire wool to the grotty barbeque and then buy enough beer in the hope that folk will be too sloshed to notice the state of the garden.

And so we don our gardening gloves (that we buy fresh every year because we can never find the pristine pair we bought last year) and smile sheepishly at our neighbour over the fence - the one who has been griping none-too-quietly about the weeds coming through from our garden - ready to tackle the triffid that has taken over one side of the garage, or the mass of dandelions and field buttercups that used to be a lawn.

After several bank holiday weekends (they bunch them together in April and May to really give you good swing of the scythe) we seem no further forward and resort to the slash and burn teqnique which is quickly followed by swearing, getting nettled, nearly poisoning the dog with innappropriate use of weedkiller and then tossing three tonnes of gravel on it in the hope it won't grow back.

And all because Charlie Dimmock wasn't free and we were too scared that Irish bloke would put a great metal fin in the middle of the drive and make us pretend to like it.

I can poke fun all I like. I am no different.

We have had an overgrown ivy that is determined to consume our shed. It had grown thicker and thicker which each passing year and no matter how fast we hack it down it seems to grow back like Kirsten Dunst's hair in Interview With a Vampire.

I was determined this year would be different.

Rather than cut it back to something manageable, I decided I was going to have the whole plant ripped out at the roots never to return. I was fully aware that I may have to demolish the shed in order to achieve this but, at this point, I am expecting heavy casualties.

Starting on the farside, where it overhangs the pavement and tries to snatch passers by off the street like Audrey II, I discovered a bird's nest and all work had to come to a halt. As desperate as I was to attack the plant, I wasn't going to destroy some poor bird's house while their eggs were in it.

So I moved to the other side and was there on a ladder happily hacking off great chunks and throwing them in our newly aquired brown bin when I saw something furry in the undergrowth. Being a country lass I was not frightened by the prospect of something climbing up among the thick branches and gasping its last. I had convinced myself it was a rat or a weasel when it turned it's head and looked at me.

My three year old, playing happily in the yard, was aware that mummy had gone still as stone and was holding her breath. The beastie was alive and living in my ivy. Upon further inspection I discovered it was a cat, stray or feral I have yet to determine, but the bloody creature has taken up residence on my shed roof. I shook a branch and demanded it vacate the premises. A second, smaller head popped up in front of it and started to whimper.

The cat had crawled in there to have her kittens.

I am now left with the dilemna of having a mother cat and three kittens (at last count) living on my shed roof, a husband who has an allergy, a three year old who I wouldn't want to expose to a feral cat and a garden that still looks like the Heart of Darkness. There is no chance of adopting them. I wouldn't chose to have a cat, so I'm sure as hell not getting four by default. We have contacted the RSPCA who have suggested leaving her along until the kittens are bigger and she may move them to a more suitable home.

In the meantime, we are checking on our guests morning and night to ensure they're doing alright and keeping the backdoor shut in case they make a break for the house.

I blame the ivy, I think it's using the cats as human shield.

Love's Lament

I heard his mournful curses

They came from far above

And when I turned to look at them

I was looking down on love.

He hadn't quite deserted me,

As I was once convinced,

He'd just stepped into shadow

And I hadn't searched there since.

He crossed to stand beside me,

Ran his fingers through my hair

And wet my cheek with love's last tear,

Too late to show he cared.

Birthday Girl

My little teacup turned three today.

A small step on the long ladder of life but in honour of her special day we had a treasure hunt.  It began with a card depicting a fruit bowl, once she found the fruit bowl there was another clue (along with a doll) that lead her on a merry dance through the house before ending up in her room where the final piece of the puzzle was awaiting her.

Her new doll's house complete with mummy, daddy, grandma, grandad, brother, sister, cat, dog and rabbit.

Isn't it great being three?

Fool Hardy

Number One

Two Year Old Wisdom

Q: Have you got a cold?
A: No, I have coughs and snot and my nose is melting.

Q: Why is that baby in the dog kennel?
A: Because the dog needs to drive the ambulance.

Q: Why don't you like boys?

A: Because they have smelly feet and hiccups.

Q: Why is this doll in the teapot?

A: Because that's daddy and he's at work.

Q: Whether you meant to do it or not is irrelevant, isn't it?
A: No, because I am NOT an elephant!

Q: What will we do if you waste all the toilet paper?
A: Use wet wipes instead.

Q: What does that sign say?
A: It warns people that if they let their dog poo on the path and don't clean it up they will get into trouble.
Q: Is it the dog's birthday? Because that poo has three candles in it.

Q: What are you doing?
A: Tidying up.
Q: Why, is Grandma coming?

Watchmen

I have purposefully been avoiding the discussions, reviews, trailers and general hype surrounding this film because, frankly, I wanted to enjoy it. The trailer has been roaming around the net for months with people slobering over it in the hope it will live up to the expectation generated.

Mixed response from me I'm afraid.

The story is sound, surprising and raises some philisophical questions that could keep a pub conversation going for hours. The cast is full of faces that I haven't seen much of and therefore didn't have any preconceptions about. It's gritty, beautiful, hideous and understated in equal measure and worth seeing.

I did look at my watch halfway through.

I wasn't bored, it was just one of those moments when so much had happened, so much had yet to happen and my left arse cheek had gone to sleep. At times like that it is easy to allow my mind to wander onto such things as 'do I need the loo?' or 'where won't be busy, 'cos I'm starving'

Highlights for me were the whole sequence with Rawshack in prison, and Doctor Manhattan's bright blue knob which seemed to follow me round the room like the eyes on painting in a Scooby-do haunted mansion.

Downlight? The worst recording of Halilula I have ever heard (makes those people from X factor look like vocally trained pros) shame as some of the other tracks used are extremely downloadable.

Things Motherhood Has Taught Me

1) That my mother was often right.

2) Ninja-like stealth.

3) Single-handed dexterity.

4) How to stop anyone doing anything using only the tone of my voice.

5) That the world is not easily rationalised.

6) The best tickle spots.

7) To be suspicious of silence.

8) That age is a state of mind.

9) That there is fun to be had, whatever the weather.

10) There are more important things in life than tidiness.

Knowledge

Knowledge, fickle Master.
You tear my brain to line your nest,
And when I bleed to do my best,
You mock me.

Knowledge, tireless leader.
You send me over burning coals,
And when your brand has marked my soul,
You mock me.

Knowledge, valued saviour.
You draw me back from foolish lengths,
Expose my weaknesses and stengths
And Mock me.

What Religion Did for Us

Working Girl

I go back to work full time as of next week.
This is my attempt to keep us financially afloat while husband is inbetween contracts with his agency. It's been a tough year for him with departments being axed, work being sent to India, temporary contracts being too temporary and recruitement agencies advertising positions that do not exist. The immense emotional pressure of knowing he is the major bread winner for us as a family has only added to his frustration.
And so I do what I can.
It has come at a good time for the company I work for. Our consultant has been struck by a strange malady (no I haven't poisoned her!) and is unable to work in the department while the doctor's try to narrow down what could be causing her swollen face and itchy skin. While she is quarentined it is up to we few who remain who are trained to work with the machines and chemicals of the photographic lab, to fill her shoes.
At this point in time I'd clean the netty for extra cash.
The truth is, however, that I love the photo lab. I would swap two days doing what I do (I think my official job title is 'dogsbody') for double that in the lab. The work is straight forward, the girls are fab, and our regulars are a hoot. If I had to go full time anywhere, it would be here.
I will, however, miss my little girl.
I will miss her something rotten. What will become of my social life if I have no playgroups to attend, no messy time, no toddler swim sessions or trips to the park? How will I cope without her cheeky face at my elbow every minute of my day? How can I eat my lunch without little hands stealing grapes off my plate? How can I go to the loo without a little voice calling "are you doing a wee or a poo, mam?"
I hope hubby enjoys this time with her as much as I will miss it.

Dreams and Goals

The Bugle Boy's Alarm Clock

The Year of Thrift

Since everyone seems to have been affected by this credit crunch (my credit has been crunching for years) I thought I'd share some ideas on how to save pennies. Some, I appreciate, are sheer folly (others down right dangerous) but they may just save you a packet.

1) walk to work (doesn't apply if it's over five miles and involves crossing a six lane motorway)

2) take a pack lunch (it's cheaper and safer - the spotty guy from Subway didn't sneeze in it)

3) leave your purse at home (it's hard to pick up lunch hour bargains when all you have for currency is a five year old packet of Polos and handbag lint)

4) share a bath (great with your partner/crap if you get the end with the taps and/or dripping showerhead - fun with kids/not so much fun if they poo)

5) visit the library (even if they have to order in the book you want it will only cost you twenty pence - it's also quiet if you're hungover and not full of as many tramps as you'd think)

6) bank your pennies (raking around down that back of the sofa may not be your idea of a good time but a good coin scrounge can sometimes reap £80 in spare change)

7) throw a clothes swapping party (this doesn't work if all your friends are size ten and you're . . . well . . . NOT - but fab if you're bored with your accessories and you have richer friends who shop at nicer stores)

8) walk to the supermarket (you can only carry so much -although I have tested the limits of human endurance - so you spend less)

9) eat out (not false economy if the 'out' happens to be parents house and you called 'to see how they are' around dinner time - can also apply to parents-in-law)

10) colour your own hair (do the math - Saks = £40 vs Boots = £4.99 + free shapers bar with the advantage card points - do not sue me if it goes green, you chose the colour not me)

Motivated?

It has begun.

I have been attending a spinning class at my local leisure centre for a few months now but as places are limited you have to book in advance. I haven't been able to book a place for weeks. It seems that everyone and their Aunt Fanny has decided that this is the year to get their flabby arses to the gym and try something new to shift those excess Christmas pounds.

And every single one of them chooses MY class.

There is hope that after a few sessions they will give up (some will give up after the first session in the saddle) and I'll be able to get my usual slot back. Until such time I will be running in the fresh (is slightly damp and chilly) air and may have to blow the dust off some of my old fitness DVDs.

I should probably warn the neighbours to glue down their ornaments too.

Be Resolute

May 2009 bring you more of what you hope for and less of what you expect (I hope we win the lottery, I expect even if we do, it will be a tenner, divided between a syndicate of 35) Bah, old cynic that I am.

You'd think, with the change in attitude even I can hear in my own voice over the last few years (marriage, a daughter and turning thirty may have mellowed me - the jury is still out on that one) that I would have something positive to say about New Year and, in particular, New Year's resolutions.

Well I don't.

I know some folk see it as a new start, a reason to get off their arses and do something about those nagging things that have been left to fester all last year (some would say that's why men have wives, so the nagging to do these things can continue throughout the year) but we all know it's a crock of shit.

We promise to do things, to be things, to begin things and to finish things, to be people that we are not. The promises we make to ourselves and our loved ones never change. We always want to lose weight, to shape up, to quit smoking, to quit drinking, to solve our money worries, to make a difference, to make our home/work balance actually balance and to be an all round better and more organised person.

And we want instant results and it to be easy as falling off a log. Who are we trying to kid?

Funny isn't it, the way we all eat like pigs at a trough until the 31st December and suddenly on the 1st January we no longer have Jaffa Cakes for breakfast, eat crisps in secret in the car going to work or class exercise as the dash to the Spa in the rain for late night chocolate.

Suddenly our bodies are temples that will only have organic, wholesome nourishment that comes in miniscule portions and costs more than drugs. We attend the high priced gym every night after work, no matter what. And we make lists of things to do, people to call, accomplishments to work toward.

And we fail at them all.

I am not trying to break the resolve of anyone who has made one of these life changing promises and has the determination to achieve it. Let's face it, if you have the motivation to achieve something you want in your life (or out of it as the case may be) you won't wait around for January next year to start on the path will you? You'll decide to get right on it, no matter what time of year, and power to your elbow.

You are the minority.

The rest of us will break our promises, stumble at the first or second hurdle and go back to our old ways with the reassurance to our egos that at least we tried. There's always next year.

I am not imune to the lure of the resolution, I have made the same ones every year for a decade: to be thinner, fitter, richer and generally better off, and I have accomplished, to varying degrees, all of those. Not all the paths began on the 1st of January, not all the paths have reached their destinations yet, but the determination with which I have approached them has never faltered and never will.

So rather than making promises that I'll have disregarded by February, I'd like to publish my accomplishment list for 2008.

Last year I:

1) lost 50lbs in weight

2) got back into running

3) started writing a new book

4) taught my daughter to swim

5) made a dozen new friends

6) lent my voice to a trailer

7) started learning sign language

8) got in touch with some old friends

9) discovered quorn

10) kept a blog