We've had ourselves a merry little Christmas

.. actually, it seemed to begin in October this year - with the baking of this. It was fed fortnightly with brandy, and iced in time for a little do that we hosted here on the evening of the 23rd Dec.

Next year, I shall feed my Christmas cake each week - it needed more! At least, that's what we all thought at 1.30 am, as our little do came to an end....!

(My photos of the iced cake have yet to be developed, I'm afraid).

And now, two nativity plays, three 'nine lessons and carols' and one visit from Santa later, it's all over and we're looking ahead to 2007. I've no new year's resolutions - I do resolve to do new things or call a halt to doing old things from time to time - but not necessarily at the turn of the year.

Things I'm really looking forward to in 2007 are:

- having Isabel all to myself for one more year (she'll begin half-days at nursery in a year's time)

- visiting friends and family

- reading to myself (current interest is the 'Golden Age of Hollywood')

- reading to Isabel (current favourite is 'The Tiger who came to Tea')

- reading to Michael (he had 'Fantastic Mister Fox' for Christmas - looking forward to re-living that one)!!

.... and tomorrow...

- going to the aeroplane museum.

I LOVE museums, I really do - places that house old stuff. I love the smell of the old stuff, and the dim lighting and wondering what the old stuff would say if it could talk. (Now I sound as I've been ON the brandy, and I haven't, so, on that note, I'll sign off and see what all the noise upstairs is about, and try not to add to it (sounds very much as if one of the children has emptied a very large box of something all over the landing....)

Name Dropping

So there I was, manning the 'second hand toy stall' at the annual church Christmas fete and wondering how I'd survive the next one and a half hours without collapsing in a heap with boredom, (no-one wants to buy second hand toys at this time of year), when who should appear before me? Jonny Vegas! Yes. THE Jonny Vegas. At OUR Christmas fete. I realised that I knew him before I realised how I knew him, if you know what I mean, so I chirped a very cheery "hello", as if greeting a long lost friend. And he responded, and he was lovely.

That's not my only claim to fame though. Oh no. I can't believe I haven't told 'my blog' this before, but for several months I lived with (i.e. we lodged in the same house - separate rooms; all very platonic) Alan Biley. Go on, google him. He's worth a google - the hair's just priceless!

And the other week I saw Ricky Gervais in a hotel bar (have I mentioned that before?) and I'm forever bumping into Chris Evans, of all people.

Mince Pies

The only thing I love more than one mince pie is two mince pies.

I'm seeking the perfect pastry recipe. My recipe contains the usual pastry ingredients, plus some ground almonds, grated rind of lemon and an egg yoke. It's good, but it's not superb.

I'm sorry that this post is not very gluten-free-friendly, Anne. I hope that you are able to make or otherwise get your hands on gluten free mince pies....?

That's about right, I think.

You are 97% English.

Congratulations! You may now take your place as a subject of Her Majesty.
"And did those feetIn ancient times,Walk upon England's mountains green?And was the holy Lamb of GodIn England's pleasant pastures seen?"
Well, no, but it's a cracking good tune.

How English are you?
Create a Quiz

Bad Day

Today's a bad day. It's 2pm and I've just decided to write today off as a bad day and hope that tomorrow will be better (which is bad because days are precious and should be savoured to the full).

Both children have bad colds- therefore Michael's at home and not at school. Both are very volatile as they feel ill, and I estimate that at least 50% of the day so far hs been spent listening to Isabel screaming.

Today is a day when I have to work hard at remaining sane. At the moment, I am thinking the following and it is helping: in 5 hous time, they will be in bed and I can have a nice glass of red wine and a bath.. hey... I can even watch my James Bond DVD (forgotten which one I bought now...(!)... double 'o' heaven. Great escapism!

(I now know why I couldn't comment before. I won't bore you with the details, but it shouldn't happen again...)

No Comment!

I don't know WHAT I've done now, but I can't comment on my blog, or on other people's blogs.

But I wanted to thank you for your comments on diet below - extremely interesting. I've read a lot about what to eat and not to eat for a healthy heart and to avoid cancer etc. - and what to feed my children to achieve maximum IQ and the whole lot.

Well. My Aunty D lived into her 90s on a diet of moderation in all things, except laughter, which she enjoyed in excess! I think I'll go with that!

(She was staying with us once - I was in my teens - and I was frying up some popadums. "What are those?", she asked. I told her. "Hmph,", she shrugged, "the only goodness in those is the fat you're frying them in")!!

If you don't like party politics, look away now!

Roughly half of the USA's voting public might well be feeling pretty euphoric this weekend following the mid-term elections.

I felt nothing short of total euphoria in May 97 when New Labour finally knocked the Tories from their perch over here in GB. I enjoyed reading newspaper after newspaper, that weekend, to absorb every last bit of post-election analysis.

Anyhow, I doubt I'll ever be able to feel such optimism again as result of an election victory.

That's not to say that I've been totally disappointed by Labour's record of achievements. Their failures are obvious and much reported. But here are some of my favourite Labour successes:

1. Longest period of sustained low inflation since the 60s (I like that because there was this strongly held belief that a Labour government would not be able to manage the economy)
2. Introduced the National Minimum Wage and raised it to £5.35 (anecdotally, this has caused problems for some individuals, but on the whole, it's a good thing)
3. Written off up to 100 per cent of debt owed by poorest countries (I should jolly well hope so too)
4. Dads now get paternity leave of 2 weeks for the first time (and I'm pretty sure that women get a better deal on this too, but not checked my facts)
5. Introduced the Disability Rights Commission
6. All workers now have a right to 4 weeks’ paid holiday (Labour'srecord on addressing injustices within employment law is pretty remarkable and goes rather unreported a lot of the time - they've almost done the unions out of a job, but not quite!)
7. Banned fox hunting
8. Five, six and seven year olds in class sizes of 30 or less (that should read 'fewer' - clearly the original writer went to an over-populated primary school under a conservative government!)
9. Free entry to national museums and galleries (I like that a lot, but wonder whether it benefits all within society and not just member of the middle classes who happen to live within reach of nationals)
10. Free fruit for all four to six-year-olds at school

Labour has also scrapped Section 28 and introduced Civil Partnerships. I was rather surprised when David Cameron spoke in favour of this at the Conservative Party Conference, and amused to see zombified members of his augience applauding him and then 'sucking on lemons' as they realised exactly what it was they were applauding!

Food Programmes

I watched Hugh again the other evening. He is attempting to convert people who eat lots of ready-made meals into people who do not. He grows his own produce - meat and veg. His cohort of ready-made-meal- fantantics help on the small farm and learn to cook from scratch. Each week, we are shown an animal being slaughtered. This tends to convert at least one of his group of half a dozen to vegetarianism.

It seems plain to me that you can not justify eating meat with the argument that an animal does not suffer when being killed - and you can be certain that the programme is showing the most humane methods of slaughter. The process is fairly quick but not instantaneous, and the animal appears distressed.

So I am re-thinking my dietary habits - again.

But away from Hugh now, and onto other celebrity chefs. The message of the celebrity chef tends to be that home-cooked food is the healthy option. It is, of course, when compared with nutrition-leached ready-mades. But what intrigues me is the perpetually high fat content of the foods they prepare. I'll leave Hugh, with his butternut squash laden with feta cheese, and turn my attention to Jamie Oliver, who recently publishd a book called 'jamie's dinners', which I purchased (because I am a fan of his - given all he's done to improve school meals). Again, his book promotes home cooking - it is aimed at the maker of family meals and he adds a twist to staples like bangers and mash, lasagna and the humble multi-million pound business-inspiring sarnie. But he seems to me to turn a blind eye to the saturated fats that each dish contains. With my drive to eradicate saturated fats from my diet (unless they occur with beneficial fats - e.g. in olive oil), there's nothing in his book I can cook.

Given heart disease is the biggest (or second biggest) killer in this country, it's time that the chefs jumped onto a new band-waggon.

With Reference to Previous Post

....and the disadvantage of living where we do is that we get to_hear_ every single firework that goes off within The Thames Basin. Amplified.

Loads of Stuff - well two things actually.

One of the best things about our house is that from the upstairs back room window, we can see for miles and miles. I love a view, me. We can see right over to Docklands - and Canary Wharf. This is especially good when fireworks abound. We've watched a whole load of spectaculars this evening - and stayed warm at the same time!

The time has come, the walrus said, for me to actively boycott supermarkets. There is so much about them that I dislike. Sadly, though, it has now reached the point, in this part of London, at least, where to boycott supermarkets leaves you with few other outlets in which to shop.

I used to say that the redeeming feature of supermarkets was that they offered you a great choice and range of food - ingredients from around the world - sushi nori is hard to find in the corner shop. But that argument doesn't hold water.

Deep in the midsts of Wales, where mother lives, there is but one small branch of a crumby supermarket - plus a health food shop which sells sushi nori and a good deal else), an iron mongers, a butchers, a bakers, a new-agey-nic-nacky shop (which sells Welsh love spoons and I want one), a great bookshop, plant shops - etc. Choice abounds in that town - far more than here; the staff who work in these shops are happier because they get to chat to each other and to you - they can even have a lovely cup of coffee and serve at the same time.

Yeap - supermarkets not only provide a disservice to us customers, they're a mind-numbing hell on earth for those who scan there.

(See, L and A? I'm still off that fence)!!!

???

Anyone know how I can get the right hand bar back onto my blog. It's gorn. Gorn. Gorn, I know not where. It's given me nothing but trouble since the day it walked into my life, but now that it's gorn, I rather miss it!

No-one knows the secret...

My blog is soon to have a little sister blog (ahhhhh). Whilst at mother's recently, I found this.....


It contained, not only this.....


...but also old family photos and things like this....



My new blog will be a 'family history' blog (of little interest to anyone except me and possibly some of those related to me, I know, but I need somewhere to dump all of my research - it's currently lying around all over the place on tiny scraps of paper)!

This IS interesting by anyone's standards, though. It's a wedding that took place during the 39 - 45 war, when wedding dresses were out of the question and the cake was probably hidden beneath a cardboard mock-up:

To The Shops (Better late than never!)

I've missed Anne's deadline (she's a teacher - she'll be very used to that !!) but here are photos of my trip to the local shops, taken pretty much at random, but I did want you to see how the town council is already thinking of Christmas!!

Here, Louise, this one's for you...!

My Very Short Strory

Inspired by a recent post on John's blog (Barefoot in the Wilderness), here is my very short story (no more than 6 words):

They had to marry in prison.

Summertime....

Hardelot Sur Plage, Sept. 2006

These are a few of my least favourite things

Had a good day yesterday. I took my son to central London and we went to a concert for 5 - 12 year olds at the Royal Albert Hall (called Making Tracks). It was absolutely fantastic to hear the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra playing the theme tunes from Superman, Doctor Who, Harry Potter and The Can Can. Not sure what Michael made of it, but I loved it!

We then managed three museums before getting home ahead of the rush hour(!) One of these was the Science Museum - a mixed pleasure for me, as I used to work there and wasn't terribly happy. I remembered, as we gazed at old household items in glass cases, how vacuum cleaners used to frighten me as a child - there were some from the 40s (like my Grandma had) and the 60s (like my Mum had), and they do look pretty scary. I then remembered my other childhood fear: the window cleaner - especially if you happened to look at the window to find him there unexpectedly.... you remember him, don't you, Louise!!

Nowadays, there are two things that freak me out. The first is unexpectedly encountering a very tall building - like the time I alighted the tube at Westminster, reached ground level only to find Big Ben towering immediately above me (or whatever it's called). The second is unexpectedly coming across a large lake of still water - like looking over a wall and expecting to see a field, but instead seeing a reservoir (ugh, just thinking about it....).

My mother lives in Wales, not a million miles away from a heap of reservoirs and, yes, you've guessed it, during periods of drought the steeple from a church that lies within one of the flooded valleys can be seen above water level.....

AAaaaaaggghhhhhhhhhh.

Blog Holiday

I've not blogged for ages. This is because I had started to blog when I should have been reading to or otherwise 'developing' my children. That was bad. In fact, as I blog this, my dear daughter is watching the tv in the next room. That is bad

So, forgive me my absence, but I must limit myself to blogging outside of their waking hours only - and that is a time when I tend to be quite busy with school meetings and 'the like' ('the like' being watching my favourtie tv programmes).

I am a total glutton for praise and a friend of mine just e-mailed me to say that she was missing my blog. Really? Then blog I must! (Some of my pals read my blog during their lunch hour at work - they don't comment but they are there.... ('hello cheese!'). So if you ever comment here, they probably read yours too.....mwa mwa mwa mwa.



Anne has been described as a Domestic Goddess - and so she is (she denies it, but she IS). Anyhow, I'd like to stake my claim to being one too - just take a look at this birthday cake that I made for my laptop-obsessed son. Come on then, marks out of ten...?!

Blimey. Is that the time? I'd better dash and get said son from school....!

Bedtime

It's past eleven o' clock at night. I should go to bed. But I don't _want_ to go to bed. Bed's the last place I want to be right now. Tomorrow morning I'll be tired and regret staying up. This morning at 6.30 _all_ I wanted to do was to stay in bed (and that was not an option - it never is). But right now: I do _not_ want to go to bed.

I
Am an owl
And not
A lark.

I went to my first ever bible study group this evening. It scored 10/10 for being interesting: "I could've talked all night" (now there's a new take on an old song!)

Anyhow, with regards to absolutely nothing, I heard a saying I've never heard before at this bible study group. It came from a wonderful pragmatist of a grandmother - she dealt it out as she might deal advice on how to best bake bread, or when to plant your carrots:

"don't be so heavenly as to be of no earthly use" (she even has the lovely west-country lilt to go with it)!

"Doen't bee so evunllee az to bee of no urrthlee yooss"

Don't read this and think I'm aiming it at you or anyone else - I can't actually see that it applies to anyone I've ever known, real or in blog-world. It may be the best advice ever given; it may the worst; it may figure elsewhere on the scale of good / bad advice. But I just loved the way she said it, and the ensuing silence, as we all wondered.....?

??

Suffering in Silence Here

My blog may be silent for a while as now I have gone down with the stomach bug that has afflicted everyone else in the house over the past fortnight, and I feel DREADFUL.....

Today is our 6th wedding anniversary. I shall celebrate tonight with a glass of 'settlers tums' or something!!

And now, back to bed.

Road Accidents

Just heard the news that one of the presenters of the TV programme "Top gear" is seriously ill in hospital with head injuries followng a high speed car crash yesterday (he was attempting to break the land-speed record, they think, and it was being filmed for TV. His wife is at his bedside - my heart goes out to her, and him. It's always shocking to hear sad news like this.

I don't watch "Top Gear" - its audience comprises so called "petrol heads" and fans of the energetic and controversial lead-presenter, Jeremy Clarkson. I have seen snippets of it and know that it regularly features celebrities driving cars at high speed round a race track.

If you enjoy seeing cars driving at terrifying high speeds, come to my neck of the woods. I can guarantee that after driving for about five minutes around these avenues in the residential outskirts of London you will be rewarded by the sight of some young lunatic risking his own and your life by accelerating towards his own, imagined 'finish post' somewhere along Acacia Avenue.

I am 38 (I may need to update my profile with that sad news). I have lost count, LOST COUNT, of the number of people I have known who have been killed, KILLED, in road accidents. One was a talented musician, aged 21. One was a peer at university who had become a reporter for 'The Times' newspaper, 26. Two were still at school when they were killed on the roads. Only a fortnight ago, a friend's son, in his early 30s, was killed in a car crash. I have known people who have died of heart attacks, strokes, cancer and murder. But the number of people I have known who have died as a result of car crashes probably exceeds all of the above put together. It baffles me when people think Diana 'couldn't possibly have been killed merely as a result of a car crash and that it must have been a conspiracy' - the suggestion seems be that to die in a car crash is to die in some kind of freak accident. It's common. IT'S COMMON. IT HAPPENS MANY TIMES EVERY DAY. SLOW DOWN.

"Top Gear" highlights the thrills of driving at speed. I DO hope that it is in the habit of warning its viewer of the dangers of dangerous driving too.

I love France, but....

Just returned from a week on the coast near Boulogne (photos will be posted when I have gone the stone-age route and had them developed!!!)

The weather was fantastic, the house we rented was lovely, the beach was perfect for the children and we had a couple of wonderful trips to local places of interest (if Boulogne is within reach for you, do visit its Aquarium - it's worth the ferry crossing).

But...

is it just me, or are holidays hard work with small children??? OK, so mine were either recovering from a sickness bug or going down with one (as we were to discover at 1.00am on Wednesday morning). So, when I wasn't cleaning up, I was worrying: worrying that they were going to damage themselves, the house, or the garden; worrying that they were barely eating a thing (other than shed-loads of baguette); worrying that my French might not be up to conversing with the local doctor if they became any iller....

I'm exhausted, and in a few minutes, I shall be retiring to the living room to do something that I have not done at all for the last 7 days: relax!

I DO love France though - and I can't wait to show you my photos.

One book…

Thanks for tagging me John. I'm gonna enjoy this!

1. One book that changed your life:
'Making History' by Stephen Fry - it made me read lots more books about the Second World War and holocaust, and I then I took myself off to Eastern Europe to see places that had featured in what I'd read. Then it all got too distressing and I stopped reading and visiting.

2. One book you’ve read more than once:
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte (it was my A' level text, but that's not the only reason for re-reading it - I mean I've read it many times since)

3. One book you’d want on a desert island:
OK, this will seem odd. It's more of a pamphlet than a book. It was produced for the memorial service of a family friend called Hugh Bishop - it contained a few of his sermons and some of his writings. Lots of wisdom. A great, charismatic and joyful person. Enough to turn you to religion! I turn to it often, when in a crisis. Actually, I don't turn to it any more. I lent it to a curate and haven't had it back - but I believe he has used bits of it in his sermons and I'm delighted about that. (Mum has a copy though)

4. A book that made you laugh:
Second From Last in the Sack Race - David Nobbs - and I was in labour when I read it. Anything that can make you laugh when in labour HAS to be funny!

5. A book that made you cry:
Flambards by ??? (sorry, should know that, c'mon Ruth, I can almost see it on the book cover..... doh). I was quite young.

6. A book I wish I’d written:
All of the Harry Potters....... $$$$$$

7. A book I wish had never been written:
The Harry Potters - then I could have done so (like, as if). Actually there are lots that I think are roooobish. I once wrote to M&S to complain about the grammar in one of their children's books (and, I mean, mine's not good but this....)

8. A book I am currently reading:
Loads: Here's one: Elizabeth the Queen by Alison Weir. I'm making hard work of this one. I'm sure it's brilliant - her other books are, but ....somehow.....it's not exactly light, bedtime reading

9. A book I’ve been meaning to read:
Man on a Donkey, by Hilda Prescott

10. A book I wish had been written:
Something that covers what life was life for women in England in 1500s and 1600s (including child-birth and child-rearing, and living with the knowledge that child-birth would probably kill you , if something else didn't first). I want to know about the minds of those women. Isn't it funny that we're all older now than we would have been when we died, if we'd lived 500 years ago. If you have come across such a book, please let me know. I THINK it's something that's not been written about. And I've searched high and low.

And

Six Wierd Things About Me (come one Anne, you've not done these, but I think John wanted us to do both!!)

Well, actually, there are no wierd things about me. I am the Man on the Clapham Omnibus. I think that my lack of ability to make polite, trivial conversation means that lots of people might THINK that I'm wierd. But I'm not. I just don't do "the price of bread" conversations. (If you don't want to know about my haemarrhoids, then why did you ask me how I was?)! - and I am not spell-checking that.

So here are 6 wierd things about my husband:

(1) he married me, for heaven's sake.
(2) he is an electriciany type person (hang on, I've not finished yet). He is an electriciany, engineery, phone-mendingy type person and yet: nothing blumin works in this 'ouse. Our phone - now that's wierd. We have 4. I pick one up (if ANY are in the mood for ringing, and the other three continue to blinkin' ring. So I'm on the blower, and I can't hear myself think because I've three phones ringing in the background. And it's not just the phone. The telly's on the blink, the bath only runs hot if you've the skills of a safe-cracker with the hot tap, the computer takes for ever and a day to boot up (cos he's installed that many anti virus things) and, ooooooooh, REALLY
(3) his second toe is a lot longer than the rest - but he tells me that's normal (mine graduate from longest to shortest, the big toe being the longest. He says THAT'S wierd!!!!!!)
(4) he laughs at random, for no apparent reason. And when I ask him what's funny, he says 'nothing'
(5) If you were to ask him to remove the wallpaper from a really massive room, and then re-decorate it, he'd do it. No problem. He wouldn't get bored after 45 seconds. Nope. He'd do the lot. Day in. Day out. Till the job was completed. Then he'd move to the spare room, er, I mean the next room, and do that one too.
(6) He takes the same packed lunch to work EVERY DAY. I kid you not. It doesn't vary one iota. And he'd love for us to have a weekly rota of evening meals...

Gawd, he is one adorable wierdo!!!!!!

(And he never reads my blog)

!

Oh GREAT. Absolutely BLOOMIN' BRILLIANT!

8.00am, and Mikey's still not out of bed (unusual, mind you he did seem restless during the night)

"Come on now, Mikey" I call. "We've a fun day at the fair today - AND you'll be getting a tractor ride" (I've been looking forward to today for ages - friend and I plus children all off to a farm-type theme park).

I hear a cough from Michael's room. But it's not an "I've got a cold" type cough. Oh no. It's that other sort of a cough. That "I'm about to throw up everywhere type cough"

Before I know where I am, I have him in my clutches, standing before the loo. I'm thinking "OK, that's the next week written off now - first him, then her - she'll inevitably catch whatever it is; I'm thinking: minimum 4 days of vomitting". (I also felt tremendous sympathy for my little boy, really I did. It's THE most unpleasant thing, isn't it).

Back to bed he went, with lots of lovely cuddles, plenty of towels and a bucket ("No, not that one Mario, that's full of bits of plaster and DIY gunge - isn't there a clean one....?" (Husband's working from home this morning and was looking forward to a bit of peace whilst we were out!!!!))

"I hope I'm better by Friday" said Michael.

"Why?" I replied.

"Because we're going on holiday on Friday," he reminded me.




Oh yes.







We're meant to be going on holiday in 48 hours time.











Update: he's asleep on the sofa.

We Understand

My little daughter is at that wonderful age when only I, my husband and her brother understand what she is saying. So, if I ask her whether she wants to play outside and she shouts "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO", we know that she actually means "YES". And if we're indoors and she wants to play outside, she'll say (or shout, because that's what she does): "HIDE", with a wonderful, throaty, 'cat spewing up a fur-ball' type sound just before the "H". And we know exactly what she means. She's got "apple" down to a fine art, though. She says "apple" clear as a bell. The only problem is that every fruit that is not an orange or banana is an apple. Even grapes are apples....

I do love this stage. In fact, the "terrible twos" are when I really begin to enjoy my children!

Summer 2006, and haven't they grown...

My children have grown...
(don't ask!)


My husband's tomatoes have grown....


My collection of 'works of art' has grown....


Michael's sunflower has grown....



And so has his fertile imagination: this is a house of books...



and this is a playground (can you see the slides?)...

Modelling

Airfix are in administration. According to the BBC News at One today, the reason for their demise is that children now spend their time watching TV or playing computer games rather than building Airfix models.

I built one or two Airfix models as a child - plastic aeroplanes, assembled with glue and then painted. I especially enjoyed tugging tiny plastic pieces from their mould without losing them - some were teeny

Anyhow, I must remember to stock up on a few models whilst they are still in the shops - for Mikey for the future. I bet everyone will do that now - they'll fly off the shelves and sales will never have been so good. (The same thing hapened when C&A announced that they were closing - sales reached record highs in their last 6 months).

Exercise

I was once present at a discussion between two vicars (this is a true story). They seemed to be struggling to get the conversation going. In an attempt to do so, one said to the other, in a very measured way and with a lot of emphasis on the verb, "have you exorcised lately?". It really made me laugh (but not out loud). You know how things do.... sometimes......tickle you.....

I think you probably had to be there.

I have exercised lately. I wonder how you'll react to that statement of fact. You see, if I am doing something amiss or not doing something "I should be doing", I feel a whole lot better if a friend admits to sharing the same problem. So, for example, if I were to say to a friend that my left leg was falling off, I'd feel a whole lot better if she were to reply that hers was too. For some reason, the fact that my left leg's dropping off becomes much less of a problem to me if someone else's is too. So when I'm not exercising at all, for months on end, I feel a whole lot better if I learn that a friend is also not exercising. The LAST thing I want to hear, when I'm not exercising for months on end, is that someone else is...

Anyway, after months of doing very little, I have now bitten the bullet (thanks to my blogging pal Supergroup and her readers who've given me lots of lovely encouragement and support) and I've (a) returned to karate and (b) started to do sit-ups and press-ups every other day (on account of being too stiff to do them on the off-days - recovering from the on-days).

My husband is also encouraging me with this - although I draw the line at having him present when I press- and sit-up. No way. (For a start, I don't want anyone telling me my press-ups are "not", as my arms barely bend and my nose shifts a mere millimetre up and down as I do them).

I feel better for all this, I really do - much happier. And the more you exercise, the more you want to exercise. I was doing hand-stands in the park the other day (I love being nearly 40 - all inhibitions have now just about vanished).

When I posted about my proposed dietary regime a short while back I thought that my proposal number three (which was basically 'do some exercise') was the one I'd fail to achieve. As it is, it's the other two resolutions (whatever they were...!!!????) that I've probably fallen down on...

The Average Englishman is Born A Double Whiskey Below Parr

I have just consumed 4 units of bubbly wine which means I'm up to parr - and I have to say, it feels totally wonderful! I wish that I always felt this way. All smiley and relaxed. Of course, I now have to do battle with my desire for another couple of units. That would be bad news - all silly and slurry and, tomorrow, all dehydrated.

Last night's Proms was wonderful (but then I'd enjoyed a glass of champagne on the way in). Mmm, do I sound like a bit of a...

Three great things about yesterday evening:
(1) Glass of champagne in fabulous company before the concert began
(2) Mozart's Requiem. Now, anyone who goes to the Proms has probably heard this Requiem at least 20 times and sung in it at least twice, and it was performed with this attitude: "we know you know it; we know you love it; we're not going to dwell on it; we'll merely remind you of it; here it is, at quite a pace." wwwhooooo - they whizzed through it - it was brilliant!!!
(3) My dear, dear husband collected me from the Royal Albert Hall, with two sleeping children in the back of the car, which saved me from the scary journey home on the tube late at night and meant that I got to see London at night - all lit up!

That's it for me, proms-wise. I have to wait for next year now. But I am so grateful to my sister for taking me to three of them this year. I had forgotten how fantastic and magical live orchestral and organ and choral music is.

Urban Jungle

Today, whilst walking down the road, I saw a fox. It ran across the road ahead of me. "Did you see that fox?" I asked Michael (age 4), who was with me. "A fox?" he replied. "Without its owner?" Sometimes they surprise you with what they know; at other times they surprise you with what they've yet to learn....

The fox then re-emerged and ran really quickly up the opposite pavement. I was a little scared. It didn't look like your standard fox - it was smaller, leaner, had a white tail-end and its nose was odd. I wondered if it might be a jackal. Sometimes I surprise myself with what I know; at other times I surprise myself with what I've yet to learn...

And spell-check that jackal. Oh, I was right. And publish.

P.S. Are foxes dangerous?

We're blogging along (to be sung to the tune used in 'Bits and Bobs" - Anne'll know what I mean....)

There are some things in life that I'll never be able to do. I don't think I'll ever be able to dive into the pool off a board, I'll never win the X-Factor, and it seems I'll never be able to produce a nice list of links to my favourite blogs down the right hand side of this blog. It's just not happening.

Lately, I've come across a fair few good'uns, most of them theological. Now there are one or two blogs that are havens of tranquility. They attract only a few comments - they are peaceful places; inciteful, intellectual, informative, but peaceful. And I love you all, really I do, but you're a rowdy lot sometimes and I'm afraid I'm not going to take you to these - not without first asking the permission of the authors!

Anyway here are four others and if you DO visit them, I want best behaviour please! (Seriously, I do love you all and I'm learning a lot from your debates - I'm also developing quite a passion for all things theological and biblical):

www.faith-theology.blogspot.com
www.bigbulkyanglican.typepad.com
www.absolutewisdom.blogspot.com

and finally, none of you will want to visit this one, but it was quite a find for me:

www,corrieblog.TV

One - Oh - One

This is post number 101 and I'll be glad when I'm through with it because I hate the number 1. If I look at a digital clock to see the time and it's 'something - oh - one', I feel it's bad luck and I have to wait till 'oh - three' before I can break the spell. If it's on the hour when I look at the time, that's good luck.

So let's get on with this post and get it out of the way.

I have had three pleasures this weekend.

One was going to The Proms at the Royal Albert Hall with that culture vulture of a sister of mine. A Russian orchestra played Russian music and, by golly it were good (and I had a swivel chair on row 1 of the stalls - quite the best thing ever - a swivel chair!!!). This, in particular, was quite the best piece of orchestral music I've ever listened to: Sibelius, Violin Concerto in D minor (33 mins). It was pure wellie from start to finish and the violin soloist had to bow like billeo, but in doing so he produced, along with the orchestral accompaniment, quite the most exquisit piece of music I've ever heard. It was frantic and yet profound all at the same time, and so melodic, soooo soooooo melodic, - and we were off to a fine start thanks to the woman right next to me (presumably Russian) who SHOUTED OUT, just as the conductor lifted his hands to commence the magic: "PLAY, MAESTRO, AND REMIND US OF WHY THOSE DEAD RUSSIANS ARE ALL IMMORTAL". (You see they also played Shostakovich: Symphony No. 13 in B flat minor, 'Babi Yar', a harrowing choral symphony inspired by the Nazi-led massacre of Jews at Babi Yar in September 1941 - a work which implicitly also questioned the ethics of the Soviet state.

It was shown on BBC2 - you may have seen me clapping my head off on the front row there....

Two: visiting said sister in new and gorgeous little flat just off Goodge Street, a stone's throw from Telecom Tower, Oxford Circus and a cluster of the most diverse and gorgeous looking restaurants I've seen in a long time, if ever. Oh yes - what a pad, what a location!

Three: and I'm going to whisper this because I'd planned to steer off religion on my blog for a little while - I read Rowan Williams "Silence and Honey Cakes". Desert Fathers and Mothers spent years in solitude in Egypt, comtemplating life and God - and we can glean some of the wisdom they derived from this (which is still very much applicable to us today) via the lucid and highly acclaimed theologian and ABC, Rowan Williams. A gem from start to finish (it ends with some very illuminating Q and As). I'd been meaning to read it for ages and thanks in part to my blog mates who feed my desire to know more about theology (even if it's an uncomfortable ride sometimes), I read it yesterday.

And she scores her century

This is my one hundredth post! And I'd like to use it to say thank you to everyone who has ever commented on any of my posts (except, perhaps, the spammer who wanted to sell condoms). I have met some really lovely people through blogging and I have received some absolute pearls of wisdom - I always visit the blogs of those who comment on me - and I can categorically say that you are a WONDERFUL CROWD!

Now here's a thing: any of you watch "The F Word" with Gordon Ramsey (sorry if you live abroad - you won't get the programme I don't think - although that doesn't preclude you from joining in)?

GR needs teams of 4 people to cook in his kitchen whilst he effs, blinds and belittles them - there's a sort of competition week on week to see which team produces the best three course meal for his restaurant guests (as scored by the restaurant guests). It's a test of (1) culinary skills, and (2) most importantly - ability to function under pressure. I'd love to take part but need three others - and we have to have something in common (so you get: brothers, nurses, etc.) How about 4 bloggers???

Lots of love from me, and here's to another 100 posts!

Yeah but no but yeah but no but ... I don't rightly know, Rita

I'm surprised my backside isn't chaffed, I spend so much of my time sitting on the fence. I am one of life's 'don't knows' really.

I'm not sure whether I'm a Christian, a humanist or an agnostic. Apparently I need to condemn homosexuality to be a Christian; I can't bring myself to join an organisistion that (a) doesn't believe in God and (b) has Claire Raynor as its president, so I can't be a Humanist; and so maybe I'm an agnostic - God knows what I am.

I'm not quite sure of where I stand on many of life's important issues. Most importantly (to me) I'm not sure whether I'm bringing my children up correctly (do I expect too much of them (sometimes I think I do), do I expect too little of them(sometimes I think I do - like every time Michael leaves the table without asking to be excused), do they see too much TV, do I pressurize them into reading too much, do I pounce too heavily each time I see them express the slightest bit of interest in anything (this is the mother who bought her 20 mth old daughter a trampoleeeny type thing today because she likes jumping and I can see her being a future olympic gold medalist trampoleeeeeny type person (do they do trampoleeeeeeeening in the olympix???. I mean sport is really not my thing, but at this early stage I really think it might be hers and I'm out to enable and encourage....)

Food and nutrition - read widely on this subject, but still don't know whether brazil nuts are good or bad for you

Jobs: would like to contribute to the family income(and will have to at some point as dearest husband will retire in the not too distant future and I must, by then, be earning a crust) but want to be home when the children are, in order to provide them with motherly tlc and a square meal (if I can be certain of what a square meal constitutes)

Keep fit - not quite sure what to do about this one (but my dearest internet friend Supergroup7 is on the case! - thank blog for that!)

The World In General: I REALLY don't know. To what extent are we manipulated by the media? To what extent is any Government so power crazy that they would convince us that we are in grave danger from terrorism / bird flu / AOB just so that they can supress us all / hide truths / pass repressive legislation?

Do I fret about all this? Not really. Yes and no. Sometimes.

But hey. What can you do?

And another thing...

...and then I'll say no more on parenting for a while. I need help: I am finding it hard to cook food that my children will eat. The older and more independent Isabel is becoming (now 20 months), the longer I can spend in the kitchen cooking "lovely stuff" (as I rather enjoy cooking actually) and the longer I spend preparing yummy food, the less likely they are to eat it. Every three days, or even more frequently, I have to revert to my pasta in tomato sauce (you know the one: fry garlic and onion, add tinned/fresh toms plus herbs and simmer)just so that they'll have at least one proper meal from time to time. Otherwise it's just ending up in the bin.

:-(

I have children-related recipe books, but I'd welcome any other ideas on what children love to eat.

In exchange for those, I'll share a totally wonderful, sin-free (nay, actually positively good for you) recipe for a biscuit:

oats (oooh I don't know, about 2 - 3 mugs), 2 x mashed bananas, two tabs olive oil, 1 pkt chopped walnuts; 4 x chopped dates (buy organic - this is an eg. of where organic is def. superior). Blend, "biscuitize" (you know what I mean) onto lined baking tray, and bake for about 20 mins at 200 deg c (in our oven anyway - perhaps less time in yours).

Enjoy.

Soap Box

"Coronation Street" is the most watched TV programme in GB, with an audience of 11 - 13 million. I am concerned about a recent scene.

Teen-mum was being fitted for her wedding dress. Great-Grandma was at the fitting, mother was walking the street and happened to mention to someone that uncle was "out". So who was looking after the baby?

They do this a lot in TV drama. People have babies and then, the next minute, go to the pub to celebrate, without so much as a mention of where the baby is, never mind who's caring for it and feeding it.

Claire (in the same soap) recently gave birth. She was about to take the baby in a pram onto a bus, to do some shopping. "Let me look after him," said a kindly Audrey. "OK," came the reply and the pram was passed from Claire to Audrey and she was off to the bus and away. What about feeds? What about nappies?

I think that popular TV dramas like this dangerously conceal the degree to which having a baby impacts upon your life. Not good when we have the highest rate of teenage pregnancies in Europe.

Being Mum

Before having children, I used to raise an eyebrow (yes - I can do that) when I heard women say "I feel like a really bad mum". No mum is a bad mum. Neither are they a good mum. I mean it's irrelevant. Every mum is the very best mum for their children to have. We all have our off-days but...if you are a mum and you are reading this, then you are the very, very best your children could have, simply because you are their mum.

Now that I am a mum, I realise why mothers come out with that phrase, and I'm ashamed to admit to using it myself from time to time.

How and when, though, can you evaluate your parenting skills? I do so practically every day. However, I believe that no parent can really know how "successful" they have been until .... when? I don't know. Is it when the child turns 18 and leaves home? 21 and graduates? 30? 40? 50? Never?

Anne and I had an interesting discussion about what we want for our children - she gave an excellent response that she has outlined in her most recent post on her blog. She hoped that her children would be inspired; inspired by something. I share this vision for mine. I'll elaborate: I'd like them to be passionate about something, or even lots of things (I'm not extremely passionate about any one thing, but I am quite passionate about a lot of things). The greatest joy of parenting for me is introducing my children to things that they may become passionate about: music, photography, aeroplanes, books, paints, mending things, anything and everything. At the moment, Isabel (age 20 months) loves jumping and Michael (age 4) loves laptops. And if there isn't a laptop about the place, he makes them out of books, boxes, you name it....

Anyway, I am going to give a good deal more thought to this. What are my objectives as a parent? What is my vision? (I'm not talking about what I want my children to end up doing or being as that's not a matter for me). I do know though (from my days as a management trainer) that you can not evaluate your success in any role unless you have established clear objectives against which to measure yourself.

It's hard, being a mum. But I think that thinking that is a good sign!

Action Required

Could I suggest that you visit:

http://sarahcontrary.blogspot.com/

and read her latest post on the situation in the Middle east. It takes no time at all to sign the petition that she flags up.

Many thanks.

The moment I've been waiting for

I always thought that if I became overweight, I'd have no problem whatsoever in simply slimming down. In fact, I thought that it would be a great opportunity to do something positive for myself: to go from being "fat" to being "thin". I didn't put too much thought into how I'd achieve this, but I guessed that eating less and exercising more should do the trick.

So now that my moment has arrived and I'm not happy with my weight, why am I going on and on about it and not taking any action? It really is the case now that "I only have to look at a cream cake and I pile on the pounds". It's time for me to give myself that positive, life-changing experience that I'd always thought would be so easy, and I keep putting it off until tomorrow and going on and on about it.

I realised the other evening, as I looked at my profile in the mirror (it's my tummy that seems to attract the fat), that I should start by thinking less of a "major change in lifestyle" and more of "a bit of tweaking here and there". I'm not enormous - I just look four months pregnant (I'm just waiting for someone to congratulate me and ask me when it's due). I hope I'm not four months pregnant. no. I can't be. Blimey. No. I'm definitely not pregnant.

OK blog. Here's what I'm going to do:
1) eradicate saturated fat from my diet (unless it occurs with "good fats" like in olive oil and oily fish) - so no crisps, chocolates, biscuits, cakes, quiches, cheese etc,.
2) only ever use the car if we are going further than 1.5 miles
3) this is where I start to think 'it's not going to happen', so I'm going to be careful with this one: sit-ups and press-ups each day (undisclosed number) - I'm a firm believer in not joining gyms - you can do all the exercise you need without props.

Right. We'll stick at that for now. I'm not going to weigh myself (10 and a half stone on Anne's "generous" scales the other day - so perhaps nearer 11 stone really). I'm just going to hope that my waistline reappears.

I'm hoping that having committed myself in writing to these resolutions, I might stick to them.

I might not even keep you posted, as it's a boring topic of conversation really!

There are some things that we could do without

My adorable friend Louise is getting rid of her car. One of the many things that I love about Louise is that she is up-front, honest and open - she has announced on her blog that she is doing this in order to save some pennies. She will have done her maths and I'm sure she'll be more than happy to comment on how much money she hopes to save by no longer running a car (and that will save me doing the maths and coming to the wrong answer about how much we might save if were we to become car-less!!).

I'd never thought of ditching our car - that is until I read Louise's blog yesterday. What a fantastic idea. Here is what we could gain by losing the blasted thing:
1) more money
2) a cleaner environment
3) a healthier life-style
4) one less thing to clean (or neglect)

The car is useful at holiday time - but then we could hire one (and a bigger one than we currently have so that we could actually fit our luggage into it).

The car is also useful when it is raining and you need to go somewhere - but it's also more dangerous to drive in the rain and, people seem to forget this, rain is only water. No-one's ever dissolved through standing out in it, certainly not en-route to the nearest bus stop anyway.

To become without a car now, with two young children and a life-style that has become rather too car-dependent (or seemingly so), would be a challenge. But not an insurmountable one. I'd just need to leave the house earlier to get to where I needed to be, that's all.

Imagine a world with no cars ........ fantastic. (It'd probably put Jeremy Clarkson out of a job too - weyhey!)

Four Year Old Plus Camera Equals...

If you ask me, the incidentals in an old photo are every bit as fascinating as the main subject. So, when I see photos of myself as a baby in the '60s I am as interested in the old-style car, oxo-tin or flower-power kitchen tiles in the background as I am in the podgy-cheeked toddler, gazing with some suspicion at the camera, in the foreground.

I love the photos that Michael takes because they usually feature as their main subject some random object that would normally be consigned to the blurred edges of a snap, if it were lucky. Here is a selection of his latest works, which I shall entitle "The Back Garden" (although many contain details from next door's back-garden - he must have stood on a chair and leant over the fence to take them).

One Snow White and No Dwarfs

I'm afraid that this is the best photo I have of myself as Snow White at Michael's school fair (Hello Magazine weren't there; I'm sure they would have done better)! Funnily enough, that's Michael in the photo with me.

At this precise moment, Michael is behaving as if he is on a sugar high. He is being over-noisy, over-lively (to say the least) and is hyper-excited. This is unfortunate. I have counted to "2". Once I count to "3", it's "time-out" and he has to stay in his room alone - usually for 4 minutes, but this time it'll be till morning (as it's nearly bedtime anyway). The throuble is, this computer is also in his room, which means that if and when I reach "3", I'll suffer as much as he does - computer will have be turned off and no more blogging!

OK. That's it. "THREE".

Sigh

I can think of nothing to blog about. This is unusual for me. Normally there's loads I want to spill out onto my blog. But today and of late, nothing. So I'm going to indulge myself in this meme which I found here www.repressedlibrarian.blogspot.com

1. Have you ever been searched by the cops?
No. I was once stopped (on suspicion of driving without L-plates shortly after I'd passed my test - I mean how insulting is that!) but it all came to nothing.

2. Do you close your eyes on roller coasters?
Yes I do.

3. When's the last time you've been sledding?
I can't remember - probably early teens (there was a hill behind our house)

4. Would you rather sleep with someone else, or alone?
Depends upon the weather.

5. Do you believe in ghosts?
No

6. Do you consider yourself creative?
yes - but not today

7. Do you think O.J. killed his wife?
Probably - but I know very little about the case.

8. Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie?
I'm sorry, I don't know who Angelina Jolie is. So Jennifer Aniston

9. Do you stay friends with your exes?
No.

10. Do you know how to play poker?
Yes. And I have played strip poker. Twice.


11. Have you ever been awake for 48 hours straight?
Yes. I have two children

12. What's your favourite commercial?
The prize would have to go to this one, because it's years since it was on our screens and I still remember the words:

We're here on a picnic
You can join us if you be quick
We've got lots of tasty goodies
And of course Country Life

It's fresh and it's English
It's better than you could wish
You'll never put a better
Bit of butter on your knife...

13. What are you allergic to?
Lots of types of make-up cause my eyes to water and swell.

14. If you're driving in the middle of the night, and no one is around do you run red lights?
No.

15. Do you have a secret that no one knows but you?
Yes. I have a birth-mark that's so well hidden that not even I knew about it until I was 15 years old. So make that answer "no" now.


16. Boston Red Sox or New York Yankees?
Red Sox (only because Mum recently visited Boston and bought a Red Sox T-shirt home for Michael. Otherwise I'd never have heard of either.

17. Have you ever been ice skating?
Yes

18. How often do you remember your dreams?
Frequently.

19. When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried?
Too long ago.

20. Can you name 5 songs by The Beatles?
Yes.

21. What's the one thing on your mind now?
It's hot

22. Do you know who Ghetto-ass Barbie is?
No.

23. Do you always wear your seat belt?
Yes.

24. What cell service do you use?
No idea.

25. Do you like sushi?
Yes.

26. Have you ever narrowly avoided a fatal accident?
I don't think so

27. What do you wear to bed?
T-shirts (belonging to husband) He pretends to find it annoying.

28. Been caught stealing?
Yes. Sigh.

29. What shoe size do you have?
6

30. Do you truly hate anyone?
No.

31. Classic Rock or Rap?
Classic Rock

32. If you could sleep with one famous person, who would it be?
No-one. I'd like to dine out with Stephen Fry.

33. Favourite Song?
I'll plump for "The Long and Winding Road"; but there are loads - I mean I love Judy Garland's classics

34. Have you ever sung in front of the mirror?
Oooh yes.

35. What food do you find disgusting?
A lot of what I cook is disgusting

36. Do you sing in the shower?
Yes

37. Did you ever play, "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours"?
Yes

38. Have you ever made fun of your friends behind their back?
Yes. I went through a phase of imitating people's voices and mannerisms whilst at school. People would laugh. I thought I was being simply amusing. In fact, I was being pretty horrible.

39. Have you ever stood up for someone you hardly knew?
Not for anyone I hardly knew, I don't think.

40. Have you ever been punched in the face?
I was punched in the mouth once whilst doing karate. I was day-dreaming at the time. (serves me right for #38, don't you think)

Parental Disapproval

My mother used to hate the coats I wore. They never "did up to the top" and therefore exposed my chest to the wind which put me at risk of "catching pneumonia". (How've I done with 'pneumonia' there, only I can't get the spell-checker to work on this thing..??) Mum still counsels me about what to wear on a cold day, when she comes to stay. She usually concludes this fruitless advice with "toilet anyone?" just as we're about to leave the front door. I mean: ???? I never remember to remind my 4 year old to try for a wee before we leave, and she's still remembering to remind me.

Last time she was here, she enquired as to what I was doing at the computer - I was spending a fair amount of time with my eyes glued to the screen. I had a choice: my response could be either (a) "nothing", or (b) "blogging". I was in the mood for a little parental disapproval at the time, so I plumped for (b). And then explained a bit about what "blogging" meant.

"Hmmmm???", she replied. Yes! I wasn't going to be disappointed in my quest for a hearty debate / row. "Isn't it better to meet people for real than to communicate with them like that? You don't know who you might be talking to. It doesn't seem right to me to communicate with people you don't know. I mean, you never know who might... Is this your blog? Can I read it?"

Anne introduced me to the idea of blogging at a time when I was ensconced in researching my family tree. My thoughts were provoked and I was slightly saddened by the fact that when I traced ancestors, all I had on them was a date of birth, a date of death and, sometimes, a date of marriage. I wanted to know so much more. I wanted to know how they felt about life; what their ordinary days were like; what thoughts travelled through their minds. And that's why I blog. So that the www is left with more than just my date of birth, marriage and death. I know that I could record a private journal - I might probably divulge so much more about myself in a private journal. But I'm never motivated to keep a private journal (I've tried it in the past - I've many a diary that ends on 3 Jan).

There is something thrilling about communicating with the world. I love the fact that I've met people from around the world - I can visit people any time, any where. And I never know who might visit me. I've even made new friends. I'm very much myself on my blog though. I don't want to leave the www with someone who isn't me, for heaven's sake, that would defeat the whole object. Nope. This is me.

And, if I say something stupid, hey, I can delete it!!! (soooo much better than "real life", don't you think?) Wish I could spell-check it though. I wouldn't mind leaving my ancestors with the illusion that I could spell.

Playing Away from Home

I haven't posted on my blog for a little while as I have been embroiled in discussions elsewhere. I'm half-tempted to write a post on 1 Corinthians 6, v 9 - 10, but I am not going to:
a) in case I provoke a repeat of a debate that is in mid-flow somewhere else and
b) because when it comes to matters of theology, I am wearing L-plates - lots of them, so as they are clearly visible. I'd be plagiarising left, right and centre (or, as some readers would assert, left, left and centre-left)

So, I'm sorry that I am not able to present you with the programme I had planned. Instead, I give you:
http://www.hamsterdance.com/classorig.html

Education, Education, Educ-air-con

I have conducted a straw poll of a very small number of British state schools and discovered that none of them has air-conditioning. We always had air-conditioning when I worked in (public-sector) offices. On a day like today (33 deg c) it is impossible to work productively without it. One school that was included in my straw poll has south-facing classrooms - the sun streams in and everyone melts.

This is ridiculous. I demand that we either
a) introduce air-conditioning to schools, or
b) allow our children to stay home on hot days.

Come on! If we can afford it for our HQ-based civil-servants, we can afford it for our SATs-sitting, curriculum-bound school-attendees.

Eh?

Am I going bonkers or has the font on my blog changed? I was trying to put something in the sidebar and failed. And when I republished, it all looked different. Has it changed? Was it always "times new roman"? I can't remember now.

Oh well.

I've just visited Louise's site and seen photos of horses, and now I've got the "Maybe it's a big horse" song on the brain - you know the one:
Maybe it's a big horse I'm a Londoner, that I love Lon... no?

I'm off to bed now.

Cutting Remarks

I would like to have long hair. My hair has never been long. It's fine hair and, as it grows, it's gets untidy. So I have it trimmed. And then sometimes I have it cut short.

I want my daughter (19 months) to have long hair. Sadly for her, she's inherited my hair. It's fine and fly-away. She had her second trim yesterday.

Now, hairdressers tell me that in order to grow hair, you need to have it trimmed regularly. But I once knew someone, when I worked at the Science Museum, whose hair went from being quite short to being quite long within the space of a year. "How do you do that?" I asked her. "You don't have it cut," she replied. And she was clever. She had a degree from Cambridge University. She should know.

Long haired people past and/or present: how do you do it?

Forget Housework....

... over on this blog:

http://teamhammer.blogspot.com/

we're debating "homosexuality and the bible". The Church is divided over this at the moment. If you are interested in hearing both sides of the argument, laid out coherently and in full, you may like to pay it a visit.

(I'm sorry I can't get my links to work, but I'd still urge you to go there and have a read of the post and the comments that follow it).

I hope that TeamHammer don't mind me drawing your attention to their blog. I'm assuming not. I mean I just love it when I have a new reader!)

Housework

This...



... is not meant to be happening. We spent-up and over-spent recently when we re-furnished our dining room. "From now on," I said "surfaces are to remain clear and CDs MUST STAY ON THE CD RACK!"

And once I've finished blogging, I'm going to go downstairs and make a start on tidying up...

Holiday Snaps

Italy, June 2006:

Fields...


Cherries...


Step out of the front door and what do you see? (And sometimes, when there's low cloud, you see nothing, and you are alone for the day)


Highlight of Michaels' holiday...


And (because I wanted to finish the film) my favourite drawing of Michael "as a wise man" (hence the head-gear) produced spontaneously by him after taking part in the church nativity play, Christmas 2005

Where's my heart?

Oh. It's ok. It's right there. On my sleeve. Where it always is.

Over the past three weeks, I have had a number of rather demanding tasks to perform, in addition to the exceedingly demanding task of being a mummy. I had to take a very deep breath before embarking on all of this. In short, and in addition to ferrying little people to and from nursery, toddler groups, music groups, french groups and baby-gym groups, I had to run three sessions over three weeks on strategic planning for the teachers at Michael's nursery (something I knew a lot about 5 years ago in my previous life as career-woman), help organise a school fair and be Snow White at it and run two Sunday School sessions. You may say "and...?", but for me, that was stretching, and to be quite frank, I didn't want to do any of it. You see all of it could have gone totally to pot. The fair and the sessions on strategic planning were especially liable to go pear-shaped.

But week 1 went well, week 2 went well - the nursery fair was a great success and raised loads of money for the school - I'd hoped (in my wildest dreams) that we might raise £1k - we topped it by at least £300!!!!!

My final task was yesterday evening: session 3 on strategic planning at the nursery. And, to be honest, it flopped. I'd not prepared it well enough, I was de-mob happy after the fair on Saturday and I just could not carry it off. It was embarassing. But it was ok in that I was free of charge, I'd not taken up too much of their time and we've almost achieved what we set out to achieve during these sessions (I'd been over-ambitious in my goals). We can fix it (with a little help from my friend: FIONA! FEEE-OOOO-NAAAA!)

So what would you do? Put things in perspective and say "I did really well to run 2 out of 3 good sessions after all this time away from work?" Or feel totally inadequate and fret about it all evening and then go to bed to dream about having to re-sit your finals, going into the exams knowing only what you know now about your degree subject.

How many more times am I going to have that dream?

Feeling A Bit Left Out Today

Well, you see, I'm the only one in this household who didn't win the World Cup yesterday. My husband, Mario, is, well, Italian. Therefore our children are half Italian and I'm English and useless at football.

BUT, I could become half-Italian by virtue of our marriage. A bit of form-filling (yeah right) and I'd be there. I'd never really considered this until recently (when England were knocked out of the World Cup and Italy weren't, if I'm honest). "Get me sorted!" I said to Mario, "Immediately!" Wow. I was to become half-Italian. I really liked the sound of that.

And then I went off the idea. I went to bed that evening and, with my head resting on the pillow, realised that this was not a good idea at all. It didn't feel right. Not one bit. Why? My reason for nudging Mario awake and saying "forget it, I don't want to be half-Italian after all... and by the way sorry for waking you up -I know you've an early start tomorrow" had nothing to do with my feelings about Italy, Italians or being Italian, but more to do with how very English I feel and how not at all Italian I feel. I realised, there and then, that my country has shaped me, to some extent, and that Italy hasn't (I mean that's not surprising - I'd never been there until 6 years ago). Now, if we were to move to Italy and I were to start feeling influenced by the fact that I lived there, then that would be different.

Anyway, here are some of my favourite things about England (I am not going to list my least favourite things - not today). I'm going to be honest here. I'm not going to include things that I feel I should include but actually know nothing about, like "great works of art":

1) London - magnificent buildings (like the Law Courts on the Strand, where I worked for a time), tiny networks of roads and alleys around St Pauls - all Dickensian in their Geography, theatres, museums, parks, shops, wine bars in cellars. Favourite bit of London? Probably Green Park / Victoria.

2) Historic buildings and all that come with them (including cream teas in their "tea rooms" and lavender bags in their gift shops - can't remember the last time I purchased either of those, but I just like to know that they are there) - so we're talking Windsor castle, Warwick Castle, etc. etc.

3) Yorkshire - well, you know, it's where my roots lie. I know that for a fact. I've studied my family tree.

4) proximity to loads of other great and very diverse countries - (including Wales and Scotland, of course)

Just going to pause here. This is quite difficult. I do not want to have to save this in draft. I NEVER do that. I MUST publish it. but I might come back and change it. I'm in danger of two things with this post:

i) sounding patriotic in a right wing sort of a way - don't want that. It's always difficult to talk about good things in England for fear of sounding like a total nationalist

ii) producing a list of twee "English" things that feature heavily in any holiday brochure aimed at enticing Americans to come over (I assume) but that actually never feature in the life of anyone who actually lives here.

OK - let's swiftly finish this post:

5) Coronation Street

6) Radio 4

7) The Times letters page - but only the amusing letter that they always publish at the bottom right

8) M&S food

9) This tiny and very ancient church in Wales that I fell in love with - worthy of a post all of its own. You have to walk through fields to reach it and it sits in a small round Norman churchyard. I'll do a proper post about it, one day. Actually it was the church where my father took his last service on Easter Day 2003.

But that's not in England, Ruth. Oh crumbs. Let's leave it there. I've strayed over the border. That must mean I've reached the end of a very uninspiring list of things that are good about England!!!

Right. I'm off to get meself a nice cuppa tea.

Tattie-bye.

Oooh, hang on:

10) History. Especially 18th century social and economic history and places you can visit to explore relics of that, first hand - e.g. Manchester, Ironbridge.

The Sermon on the Amount

The church I attend has been turning its mind to money, of late, and recently, traditional sermons have been replaced by presentations on giving (money to the church). I have missed all of these, as I've either been teaching at Sunday School or wandering around the churchyard with Isabel in order to spare the congregation from her screaming, running, jumping, singing and other attempts at disruption.

I have, though, read the vicar's piece on stewardship in the church magazine and, as well as providing me with the lovely bit of wit that I half-inched (pinched) for the title of this blog, it has given me a little food for thought. Our church was built for £12k in the late 1800s. It is now insured for nearly £9m (berlimey). It's a beautiful church. So anyway, if we were starting from scratch as a parish, we'd need to find rather a lot of pennies in order to build a church like the one we have. I suspect that if we were all to chip in, we might be able to afford a large tent somewhere.

Aren't we lucky then, that our ancestors made this investment in fabulous church buildings when they did? I mean, religious or not, I think most people would be heartbroken if these historic buildings were to disappear from our cities, towns, villages and hamlets.

So it's BDDGHSS

I may be quizzed on this tomorrow at 11.00am, when I become Snow White for 100 eager children (who can't WAIT to meet her - OOOOHHHHHH HEEEEEELLLLLLLPPPPPPPP). (Michael has asked me to repair his torn Snow White book, so that he can show it to "the real Snow White" - OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLPP)
So it's:
Bashful, Doc, Dopey, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Sneezy.

I'm off now, to collect my costume. Michael's coming with me (how will I explain this???? "Mummy offered to have Snow White's costume cleaned and ironed for her and we're just going to pick it up....?")

Oh what a tangled web we weave
when first we practise to ....open the nursery school fair as Snow White.

Wish me luck. I have to say, I'll be offering one of my more bizarre prayers up to the Good Lord at 10.57 hours tomorrow!! If you, too, can bear to say a quick "Lord, make Ruth a good Snow White, Amen" it'll be much appreciated!

Heigh Ho

Perhaps I should be Postman Pat (... and HELP)

But when I tried on the Postman Pat nose, glasses, hair and hat, I looked just like.... Ruth wearing Postman Pat's nose, glasses hair and hat. So I opted instead for the Snow White outfit which seems, thanks to the black wig, to hide the real me to a greater extent (and I get to wear false eye'lashes for the first time!). And that's how I shall open Michael's school fair next Saturday.

But Snow White? What kind of a role model is she? I had a quick think about her and other female fairy tale characters last evening and realised that they all seem to send out the same attrocious message: "Girls. Find your Prince Charming (or better still, get fairy god-mother or 7 dwarfs to find him for you) and you shall live happily ever after". So now I really wish I'd opted for Postman Pat instead (despite the poor cover-up job). "What's so good about Postman Pat as a role model", said Mario last night? "Dunno. Have you seen Michael's library book?" came my reply. Oh we just love to debate these things, Mario and I. Sometimes we spend 30 - 60 seconds discussing the major issues that affect the modern age.

Anyhow, it's impossible to change my costume now (don't make me bore you with details of why - ok - if you, like me, hate minor details, go to the next paragraph now - woman who runs shop's on holiday from 5am this morning till the morning of the school fair and will already have ironed my dress and adjusted the choker).

So I am Snow White, minus dwarfs. I must say I did laugh at myself in the costume. I'm to be the Disney-cartoon version of Snow White and two things stand out when you wear a female Disney-cartoon costume:
1) the fact that your waist-line is greater than 10 inches
2) the fact that your eyes are not gigantic and your mouth isn't minute (is that how you spell my-newt? But it's the same as minute... hmmm. Oh well)

(It also looks very odd if you adopt anything other than a "shoulders back and breath in" stance - I caught myself slouching "Rigsby-style" in the mirror and made a mental note not to do that on the day!!)

But HELP: what am I going to say? How am I going to open the fair? Do I put on a Snow Shite (sorry, but I am leaving that typo there!! There's no way I'm removing that typo!!) type voice? If so, is it girly and pathetic or should I work to improve the role model and try to sound a little, oooh, I don't know, intellectual or something? What if the children point at me and shout "That's Michael's mummy"? How am I going to carry this off?

A stiff drink beforehand is not the answer - I considered that for a brief moment and decided swiftly against it...later, yes. At 8pm that evening I'm meeting a good old pal of my mine and a stiff drink'll definitely be my number 2 priority.

Lessons learned: never volunteer to do anything. Ever again.

As thingy as a wotnot

Many's the time, during conversation, that I need to call upon a witty or, at least, original, simile to add a bit of fizz-pop to what I'm saying. And never can I dream any up on the spur of the mo. Never, that is, until the other day when blogging,and my "like dust to a Dyson" flowed off the tip of my tongue (or fingers), like something from I don't know what, to describe beautifully how, every 4 years, I'm "sucked into" the World Cup. Yes. I was rather proud of that one. OK, it would have been better had it not contained a brand name, but "like dust to a vacuum cleaner" was both lengthy and lacking in alliteration. And, let's face it, nothing sucks like a Dyson.

What I like about my new Dyson simile, if I may make so bold, is that it aint funny, so it can be re-used. Funny similes are only funny once - they do not re-cycle. Not at all. As useless as a chocolate fireguard / ashtray on a motorcycle / one-legged man in an arse kicking competition are all, quite literally, one-hit wonders.

My favourite simile of all time was included in an edition of the dire BBC soap "Eastenders". It amuses me a little that in British soapland there is but one accolade worth achieving for all characters, be they great or small, and that is to get their "name above the door" of the local rub-a-dub (pub). The pub in Eastenders is called "The Queen Victoria", or "The Vic". Dirty Den was especially obsessed with this haunt (he'd travelled the world but returned to Walford, so eager was he to see his name above that door). I don't remember what he was bleating on about or to whom in the particular episode where he chimed in with something along the lines of "... and she'll be out of this Square faster than you can say Queen Vic". Great! What a pricelessly rubbish piece of script-writing or ad lib.

I use the phrase all the time now!

Ah yes. Neil Kinnock. I'd forgotten all about him.

Just been reminded of a lovely line from a Kinnock speech from yester-year (when everything was being privatised):

"The thing about Tories is they begin by promising you the earth and end up selling you water."

[Sigh] We've had some good Labour leaders in the past.

Another "Oh bother, I wish I hadn't started this" type scenario

I was running a training course (.... oh the number of times I, as a management trainer, e-mailed course delegates to tell them that I would be ruining their course, but that's a subject for a future post all about funny typos!). Anyway, as I was saying, I was running a training course for managers, and I'd bought a "business game". I'd not tried the game out before "going live" with it. I'd barely even read the instructions or guidance notes. Had I done any of the aforementioned, I might have realised straight away that the game was not going to provide the lessons in team-building and project management that it promised it would on its box.

The game was long. The course delegates had to split into three teams and spend hours doing something under certain conditions, having first designed a map of "their island" and a "national flag" (to improve team cohesion). They were meant to barter and negotiate with other teams, but using communication-styles that were dictated in their mammoth instruction pack, styles that they would never actually use in reality. We broke for lunch and returned to the game. "No-one will solve the riddle", promised the game's blurb, and the idea was that the group would spend ages after the game had finished discussing why this was. Well, my course delegates did solve the riddle. They rather enjoyed playing the game too. But I could think of abolutely nothing to say in relation to team building or project management when the game was over. I mean that's not necessarily a problem at all. The job of the trainer is to pose good questions, not answer them. All I had to do was to re-convene the group and ask them "what lessons have we learned in team building from this game?" But really, the game provided no lessons whatsoever.

So, moving swiftly on...

It gets me EVERY time

The World Cup. I always groan when I realise it's a World Cup year and humph at the sight of the England flags strewn all over the place (NOT cars as well - prriiee). And then, I'm sucked in, like dust to a Dyson.

I am ashamed of this fact. I'm not ashamed of the fact that I get hooked on the Olympics 2 years later. But I am ashamed of being a closet World Cup fan. I am, by now, even watching non-England matches when I can. And I am enjoying them. Enormously. I really loved the Portugal match the other evening (already forgotten who they were playing) - the ref. was the most comical character I've seen in a long time - he had the temperament of Basil Fawlty and the sleight of hand of Paul Daniels. He couldn't produce the cards from his pocket quickly enough! It was hilarious!

Here is what puzzles me about football (and I am not going to list "the off-side rule" here - that's quite simple):
1) players' earnings
2) the fans: they seem to leave a match with the idea that they themselves have won or lost the game. No! It's the 11 men down there on the pitch who have won. Not you! By the look of most of you, you couldn't even walk the length of the field, let alone run up and down it for 90 minutes plus stoppage time. Oh you may wear the strip, yes, and I could wear a tutu and go and see the Royal Ballet perform, but that doesn't make me Darcey Bussell...
3) pre-world cup parties - No! Parties are for AFTER the event; celebrate when and if you have won..... well, ok, party on while you can, I s'pose...
4) players'hairstyles - they are fabulous, they really are. They are beautifully cut and styled. Now, maybe if you look good, you feel good and you peform well. BUT, if you're having a bad hair day, and we all have them (365 a year, in my case), performance will be affected. Ought our players to be so reliant upon their hairstyle when playing international football? Beckham ought not to be thinking "hope my hair's still holding up" every time he takes a free kick, he should be concentrating on the ball. Sven's mind's clearly on the game - the player's should follow his example and adopt his barber. I suspect that the day "our lads" enter the pitch (or whatever it's called) with hair skew-wiff will be the day we bow out of this championship.

Sirens are sounding and red lights are flashing because I am now going to make a very sexist statement: I wish that their shorts were shorter and I love the bit at the end of the game when they take their tops off. I apologise for any offense caused by that remark, and I would have deleted it from my blog if I lived in a society which disallowed page 3 girls to appear in a national newspaper. Can you BELIEVE that still goes on...? (I know 2 wrongs don't make a right but I'm a desperate housewife and ....doh, I can't think of any excuse really but the comment is staying. I know for a fact that a fair few of my friends will agree with it even if they don't agree with it, if you know what I mean!!!)

Sadly, there's no footie on the telly tonight - I shall knit instead. It's high time I finished my scarf (nearly done) and then I can start project number 2. Anne?! (I wonder if Anne's still reading - this'll test it!!!!) Anne! What next Anne!

Another Fine Mess

You see, I once got myself into a rare old two 'n' eight (state) when I started something that I couldn't quite fin...
The year: 1995
The Place: The bathroom of my flat in Shepherd's Bush - my spinster pad, if you will
And ....ACTION:

Ruth notices a very small flaw in the paintwork above the sink and to the right of the mirror. She peels a small amount of the paintwork off and concludes: "there are too many layers of paint here. The whole room needs stripping down to the plaster and then re-painting".

Further peeling ensues until Ruth decides that "peeling's not the way forward. Sandpaper is needed".

Ruth has sandpaper in her kitchen drawer, fetches it and begins sanding. 45 minutes later Ruth realises that sanding is:
(a) very hard work
(b) going to take for ever

There is now a 30cm square patch of exposed plaster above the sink and to the right of where the mirror should be. Ruth repeatedly looks from plaster patch to the rest of the bathroom, as her heart slowly sinks. "How many hours of my life is it going to take to remove the paint from this room?" Ruth regrets ever touching the paintwork in the first place.

Ruth leaves the room and "sleeps on it".

At work the following day, people are amused to hear of Ruth's exploits. One keen DIY-er offers to lend her his electronic sanding machine. "Problem solved", thinks Ruth! Chap turns up to work with the goods the following day and Ruth happily carts the thing home on the tube - "can't wait to start with this!"

No time for tea, certainly no time for reading any instructions, switch on, sandpaper pressed to the wall, whizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz and "****fire there's a hole in the wall. Ok. That's bad. It's powerful. Slow down." But all that I could produce were several more, smaller holes in the wall.

Abort mission.

Ruth returns, yet again (had several previous minor disasters when trying to hang pictures from the wall) to her stock of polyfilla. Out it comes, on it goes. It's way from smoothly applied - "think outside of the box, think outside of the box, buy a gigantic mirror and cover the whole think up"

There we go. All done and dusted.

Why didn't I just use paint-stripper? I don't know. There will have been a good reason, but I can't remember what it was....

Politics

David Cameron plans to replace the Human Rights Act with a British Bill of Rights. The legislation contained within the European Human Rights Act is three things:
(1) lengthy
(2) complex
(3) vital

It may well contain flaws and could well need tweaking, but if David Cameron starts tampering with it - trying to pull it apart and improving upon it, I just know that he'll end up in the same sort of predicament as the poor soul referred to in this blog: www.yarnharlot.ca/blog under heading "Out of Words", June 23rd, 2006. It's well worth a look; even if you know nothing about knitting, it's an amusing read!

These things are worse than pringles...

You Will Die at Age 82

Congratulations! You take good care of yourself. You're poised to live a long, healthy life.

What Age Will You Die?

Your Bumper Sticker Should Be

Buckle up - it makes it harder for aliens to suck you out of your car

What Bumper Sticker Should Be On Your Car?

Your French Name is:

Marcelle Bernier

What's Your French Name?

What Your Sleeping Position Says

You are calm and rational. You are also giving and kind - a great friend. You are easy going and trusting. However, you are too sensible to fall for mind games.

What Does Your Sleeping Position Say About You?

Lots of blogging from me today!

You Are 32 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?