Willows

Life Cycle of a Blog

2007-03-11T15:20:00.000Z

This blog was born, had a very active life, slowed down and is now in semi-retirement (but then I did tell you that I was a bit like Toad of Toad Hall)! 'Willows' has mostly been a personal journal - a diary of events and thought-processes. Whilst I continue to experience events and to think, I seem to have lost the ability to make the time to record all of this on my blog.

I have been reading some of my previous posts today - it's great when you read something that you've forgotten you'd ever written. Sometimes I've come across posts that make me think 'crumbs, did I really admit to that' - and they make me feel a bit embarassed.

Anyway, I'm torn between occassionally posting on this moribund blog and declaring it officially closed and starting a new one - I have ambitions to begin a new and different style of blog - one that's less centred on 'moi'. It was vital to me that 'Willows' was 'me-centred' as I wanted it to provide an insight into 'me' as a 'leaf' on my family tree (and not because I'm a total egotist)! 'Willows' is a snapshot of the life of Ruth in her late 30s. I'll look back and read it as you read an old journal.

But for now I'm going to leave it at least for a while, I think.

I have relished every single comment that I've ever had on this blog and thank you all for contributing. I'm not saying 'goodbye', because I'm not stopping blogging. I'm just giving this particular blog a rest. So 'toodlepip' and I'll maybe see you round at your place / space / blog!

The hand that rocks the cradle....

2007-02-28T13:23:00.000Z

If you read this:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/6402933.stm

you'll learn that women with young children face more discrimination in the workplace than disabled people or those from ethnic minorities.

When I read this, I had expected to learn that jobs were simply not tailored to suit mothers with young children, deterring them from applying for posts in the first place (indirect discrimination). I thought I'd read, for example, that employers were reluctant to employ part-timers, or to reduce the need for overnight travel in jobs, but, no. Recent research cites a survey of 122 recruitment agencies that revealed more than 70% of them had been asked by clients to avoid hiring pregnant women or those of childbearing age. So we're talking 'direct discrimation' against women - they are being sifted out of the workplace purely on the basis of their gender. That alarmed me.

Lots of my friends work (some have children, others don't). Many of them offer an unsurpassable service to society - as teachers, doctors, nurses.... (I know lots of teachers, doctors and nurses, for some reason...)

I, on the other hand, am a 'stay at home mum'. I am a SAHM simply because that is what I wanted to be when I had children and we are darn lucky enough to be able to survive (just) on one income. Sometimes I wish that I worked part time - I sometimes think that I'd have more energy for the children if I had a little 'time off' at work (!!!), and I'd like to add to the coffers. Furthermore, though, there are times when I feel that my role is undervalued. I feel undervalued by the apparent lack of recognition of how difficult it is to find child-care that equals or beats the care I can give my children, as their mother. And also by the number of times people expect that I might be able to volunteer to do things (like clean the church) because "I don't work".

In the light of the article above, news commentators have been saying that highly educated and competent women are being denied the opportunity to contribute to society by workplace discrimination. That statement is true, but don't under-estimate the contribution to society some of us are making by devoting our energies to bringing up children.

And, even more importantly, could we be given real choice, please. It is seen as a privilege now to be able to stay at home with children if that's where your vocation lies. Not everyone can marry Rockerfella, and I'd like to see something done so that all mothers have the option to be the sole-carer for their offspring if that's what they want.

I'd like to thank the Lord for gift of being able to lie

2007-02-27T14:51:00.000Z

.... but I'd better not as, clearly, he'd rather we didn't.

What a shame. I think that the art of being able to lie convincingly is a wonderful way of keeping the waters calm in a relationship.

'Do you like my new dress?'

Now, I don't know about you, but I'd much prefer a blatant lie - something along the lines of:
'it's a stunning dress and you look gorgeous', to this kind of truth:

'It's a beautiful shade of yellow'.

There's lots more I could say, but I'm sorry, I must dash - and that's no word of a lie!

The Harsh Lessons Of Life

2007-02-27T14:35:00.000Z

My dear son (aged 5) was looking down at heal. I asked him why and he replied, in a sad whine, that his woodlice had died. (I didn't correct his grammar; I also call them woodlice when they are singular, as I don't like the word 'louse'', and I say 'a dice' too).

I'd seen him frollicking around with a woodlice in the living room the other day (in sofar as you can frollick with an insect). I didn't realise he'd adopted it as a pet. But he had. He'd put it in a tray in his bedroom and tended to its every need for a period of about 48 hours.

'It died in the night', he said. I nodded sadly. I wanted to share in his grief, but at the same time 'move him on' very quickly.

'Never mind. You can always find another one.' I said. His face lit up.

'Yes!' he exclaimed. 'Or I could find a beetle!'

As long as he remembers that in my house '0 - 6 legs: good; 8 legs: bad', we'll all be ok! (Seven legs also = bad. I take 'seven legs' as a spider that's lost a leg, not a beetle that came with an extra one).

Oh, Such a Perfect Day

2007-02-20T19:51:00.000Z

Dear Diary..

I just want to record a little piece about yesterday, for posterity.

It was such a lovely day.

Michael had an inset day - no school. Mario had taken the day off work and he looked after Isabel, allowing me to take Michael into town. First, the Science Museum (floors 4 and 5 - always totally deserted, amazingly, as these are by far the most interesting floors of the museum - maybe people suffer from altitude sickness up there)! He marvelled at the 'blood, bones and body bits' (as he called them) in the medical and veterinary sections - finding the mock-up of the nineteenth century dentist's surgery most interesting. I noticed that nothing of any of it scared him - he doesn't seem to get spooked.

The basement of the museum, where the children can 'learn through play', was jam-packed with crowds (I'd expected a quiet day, but clearly there were lots of 'inset days' going on yesterday)!! So we abandonned the museum and went for a McDonalds (groan - it was what he wanted and it's a very rare 'treat'. I had to look for the silver lining - it was cheap and quick). And then off, on a double decker bus, to ...... Chappells music shop. It turns out that we BOTH love it in there! He had lots of goes at playing lots of electronic pianos (with earphones) and drum kits (with earphones) - and we spent ages in there - they even let him use the staff loo!

It was now ice cream time and then home. Or so I thought. I just knew that Selfridges would have an ice cream parlour - and it did. And imagine my delight when my sister rang to say that 'her meeting had been cancelled and she could meet us for a pizza after work'! Another double decker bus ride to Westminster with time for a walk along the Thames before spending some considerable time in Dr Sister's office, examining her super-dooper, multi-headed hydra, I mean, microscope. Was ever a boy entranced?!

I over-heard Michael in the playground this morning, raving to a classmate about the microscope. It was the last thing he mentioned to me before going to sleep last night, and it was the first thing he mentioned to me this morning. I heard him talking to himself at length about it this evening as he was getting ready for bed.

I'm not going to mention that we returned home later than planned, that he was totally whacked and that, consequently, he has been the grumpiest of all bears this evening! It was a one-off - and there's nothing like making memories...

I wonder...

2007-02-16T14:09:00.000Z

....I wonder whether I oughtn't to be doing more with my life. I think that I'm 'happy' and I know that things could be worse. I'm grateful for everything that I have - from the water in the tap to the husband whose currently fixing said tap.

But I am a bit bored, if the truth be known. Now, I know that excitement's not always all that it's cracked up to be (we've had a fair bit of the wrong sort of excitement around here in the past few weeks, what with one thing and another - think gastro-enteritis and you'll be not far wrong). But, to be quite honest, being in a total rut is not much fun either - and a rut is what I think I'm in at the moment.

I'm bored.

In the past, when I've felt in a rut, I've changed my job, my boyfriend, taken myself off on holiday or found a new hobby. I've been in ruts before, but I've climbed out of them.

But I'm a married, stay-at-home-mum now - and I'm delighted to be so. It does make climbing from a rut a little more difficult though. Today's method of dealing with my rut is to shout at everyone -and that's not good. Not good at all. Tomorrow, I may have a couple of hours to myself and I've tried to find a concert in London that I could attend (lunch-time), but to no avail (I've this strong desire to sit on a uncomfortable chair and not even notice that my bottie's gone to sleep as I'm transported away by voilins, cellos and kettle drums - extra 'brownie points' if the drummer's stick accidentally whizzes out of his hand and towards the conductor, and even more 'brownie points' if the conductor is the type whose dripping perspiration showers those on the front row!!)

Oh I don't know what to do. Have my hair cut, perhaps?

Isabel's filled her nappy. So before I do anything, I'd better get that changed!

And it's Brennon on the Moor...

2007-01-20T16:13:00.000Z

Radio 4, 5.55pm yesterday, gave the best 'and finally..' ever to a news programme. Listeners were treated to a hefty snippet of the old school-children's favourite programme: "Singing Together" (from 1967). We were invited to repeat the lines of a song once or twice so that, I feel certain, when the programme closed, everyone listening was giving a rousing rendition of:

"And it's Brennon on the moor,
Brennon on the moor,
Bold, gay, dauntless, stood
Young Brennon on the moor"

Maybe you 'had to be there', but it was grand! And following our national chorus of this fine Irish ballad (albeit from our many and varied and separate kitchens and dining rooms), the news-reader simply closed the show with the words: "singing together".

Big Brother

2007-01-18T21:06:00.000Z

Hah. Two Orwellian blog-post titles in a row.

I watched snippets of Celebrity Big Brother when it began a week or so ago - I switched off for good when the editors allowed one very unpleasant contestant, who decided that she was unable to pronounce Shilpa's name, to hog the limelight.

Apparently many celebrities who take part in this so-called 'social experiment' (an experiment that really did not need repeating more than once, in my opinion) enter the show so that the public can see 'what they are really like'. Well, we've seen that now, haven't we!

Room 101

2007-01-09T20:42:00.000Z

I'm pretty sure that in George Orwell's novel '1984', Room 101 contains the one thing that most terrifies you. In Paul Merton's TV programme 'Room 101', celebrities (of the type you might hear on Desert Island Discs rather than see on 'I'm a Celebrity...') nominate 4 things that most irritate them. Paul then decides whether to consign these tings to 'Room 101" and 'banish them for ever'. So you get things like 'post office queues' and 'serving suggestions' going for a burton.

Here are my nominations: four things for Merton's Room 101. (Orwell's Room 101 would contain spiders, for me. Or, possibly, deep water. Shudder.)

(And I'm going to have to be quick here cos 'Judge John Deed's on at 9).

1) Church fetes - boring, smelly, horrible things. I try to be our of the country when ours take place - not always possible, esp. now children at school

2) Turning right in the car - there are so many parked cars round here (massive ones because it seems that if you have children you can't possibly fit them in anything other than a 8 seater tank). I rarely turn right now, for safety reasons. I only ever turn left. (Mario's just had to go out to buy petrol...)

3) 'What's in the public interest' - I find the media so intrusive and unkind

4) Feedback TV-style (whether it's Simon Cowle, Gordon Ramsey, 'The dragons'....). Such feedback from celeb to 'average person' goes along the lines of "that was ****king crap &c). It's neither acceptable, constructive nor necessary to speak like that to someone - and yet it's paraded as being the right way to 'criticise' if you 'want to get to the top'.

You will see that it is now 9pm here and I've the living room all to myself and just time to get a cuppa and before my programme starts.

Ooh, I want a fifth - BBC News correspondents. Why do they nod ferociously these days before they say anything to camera???

Happiness is...

2007-01-06T22:09:00.000Z

...(actually I'd prefer to define 'contentment'): where reality meets or exceeds your expectations of what reality should be.

That's my opinion, anyway.

And on that note, I'm off to bed. And I do not expect to enjoy an unbroken night's sleep!

(And I'm not talking "how's yer father", by the way. I'm talking little girl with bad cough and cold who needs frequent cuddles day _and night_ at the moment)!

What in the World's Going On?

2007-01-06T21:07:00.000Z

I won't bore you with the whys and the wherefores, but every Saturday I spend an hour in a 'caff', trying to avoid buying more than one latte, and reading the tabloids that are scattered about the tables.

I know very little about who's really who and what they're up to in the big wide world. If it were down to me OK and Hello magazines would be 'not at all OK' and 'goodbye'. But this evening, as a result of spending 60 precious minutes reading tabloid upon tabloid, I know that a world-famous singer with a 'girl-next-door' image may or may not have had a drink or two on New Years Eve, someone called Fiona Philips never really took to 'The Vicar of Dibley', and some rock star who's quite a maverick used to, in fact, act in school plays and was, apparently, a very well behaved pupil.

But what I don't know is what happened 30 meters down the road from where I live at 10pm the other evening (I turned into our road after an evening meeting to find an ambulance and police cars, and to see one person lying face-down on the pavement). Furthermore, I have no idea why two police cars drew up and called at the house next door but one at 3.30 am on New Years Eve.

The Road to Nab End: A Lancashire Childhood by William Woodruff, (excellent book) describes how in the early 1900s neighbours would drop by your house incessantly of an evening, for a chat or a game of cards. Within that neighbourhood, people would have known the full tale of 'the accident down the road' before it had happened! (This type of community spirit remains alive and well in parts of the country; I know. My mother enjoys something of it in Wales). But here in the big city, I might easily know so much more about the identity, family, habits and traumas of a singer in LA or Sydney Australia, than I do about the people next door, with whom I share a drive.

The book mentioned above is an excellent and thought-provoking read. My favourite story of the moment, though, is the fairy tale 'Emporor's New Clothes'. I've seen so many photos in the papers today of totally talentless, celebs perched on stick-thin legs with hair ironed straight, and I've read so much about 'Celebrity Big Brother' and other - oh gosh - wait for it - 'celebrity reality shows' that, upon finishing my, by-now-stone-cold latte, I just wanted to shout out at the top of my voice 'NONE OF IT MATTERS' and 'IRONED HAIR LOOKS AWFUL'.

Why write it? Why read it? I'll take me laptop to the caff next week and read blogs instead.

I'm not really here. I'm somewhere over the rainbow.

2007-01-05T21:04:00.000Z

This week, I am passionate about Hollywood 1900 -1950. I have read a biography of Louis Mayer (of MGM) and last evening, after a pretty grotty day, I sat up and watched my newly acquired DVD of Easter Parade, starring Judy Garland and Fred Astair. And now I want my house to look like the set of an MGM movie and I want to wear beautiful Judy Garland clothes and to have an Easter bonnet, and to break into song next time someone accidentally bumps into me in Asdas and things....

I have always taken films slightly too seriously. I really expected, having seen Grease in 1979, that my life at secondary school (which began that same year) would be something along the lines of the Sandy and Danny experience. I could not understand why the boys at my school were the same height as me, or smaller, wore anoraks instead of leathers and looked about 11 - 16 years old. Reality was a bit of a let-down. It was a long time before I learned that some of the cast of Grease were actually in their late-20s and 30s when they took the parts of 17 / 18 year olds!

Perched on top of the telly, I have two more DVDs to enjoy: 'The Big Sleep' (thanks again Catherine!!) and 'Meet me in St Louis" ,which I adore. But this evening, I treated myself and my dear son to a bit of Laurel and Hardy. I'd tried Laurel and Hardy on him before and he wasn't really ready. But this evening, he 'got it'and was laughing his little socks off. Great! This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Naked

2007-01-01T18:14:00.000Z

That's how my house looks now that I've taken down the Christmas decorations. I 'go for it big time' (gosh, I bet that phrase is, like, well dated) with the Christmas dex - and they do add a touch of magic to the house (thanks, primarily to the tree lights and candles I dot about the place). I felt sad at boxing them all up for another year..... or 11 months, really, if you think about it...

I love the magic of Christmas. I love the excuse not to face reality for a few days. I love the films and the music and the food and the drink....

....I love the way Christmas forces you to look back on years gone by (with sadness and joy). You just can't help it. (Some of the baubles on our tree, were hanging on the tree when I was a child, and were hanging on mum's tree when she was a child).

All over now - the magic, baubles and all, is packed away in the loft, and I've got to have the children's feet measured before school starts, take Isabel for a vaccination on Friday, go to the dentist, get Michael's hair cut, paint the skirting boards (please tell me how to do that with a two year old in the house), and, finally, re-visit my spending habits to see if there are any cut-backs I can possibly make because, at the moment, we can fund bills, car, food and ... everything - except clothes. We've no allowance for clothes. And I, for one, do not want to be still wearing this turquoise jumper, that didn't suit me much when I bought it three years ago, this time next year!!

Come on, Ruth, just think of a story. Something along the lines of Harry Potter, but obviously not Harry Potter. Just think of a story and write it down, get it published, and cast that jumper into the re-cycle bin for ever!!!

We've had ourselves a merry little Christmas

2006-12-30T17:36:00.000Z

.. 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

2006-12-03T15:47:00.000Z

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

2006-11-28T16:45:00.000Z

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.

2006-11-27T16:24:00.000Z

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

2006-11-27T14:03:00.000Z

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!

2006-11-16T16:13:00.000Z

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!

2006-11-11T16:09:00.000Z

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

2006-11-11T09:26:00.000Z

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

2006-11-04T22:47:00.000Z

....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.

2006-11-04T20:21:00.000Z

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)!!!

???

2006-11-02T10:14:00.000Z

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...

2006-11-01T13:37:00.000Z

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!)

2006-11-01T13:21:00.000Z

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...!

2006-11-01T13:17:00.000Z

My Very Short Strory

2006-10-31T08:15:00.000Z

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....

2006-10-29T10:01:00.000Z

Hardelot Sur Plage, Sept. 2006

These are a few of my least favourite things

2006-10-28T17:59:00.000+01:00

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

2006-10-19T14:45:00.000+01:00

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

2006-09-27T23:04:00.000+01:00

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

2006-09-22T13:00:00.000+01:00

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

2006-09-21T08:19:00.000+01:00

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....

2006-09-15T18:05:00.000+01:00

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…

2006-09-06T18:00:00.000+01:00

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!

2006-09-06T10:00:00.000+01:00

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

2006-09-03T15:49:00.000+01:00

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...

2006-09-01T13:15:00.000+01:00

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

2006-08-31T23:24:00.000+01:00

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

2006-08-31T18:19:00.000+01:00

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

2006-08-28T17:56:00.000+01:00

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

2006-08-23T18:20:00.000+01:00

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....)

2006-08-23T08:47:00.000+01:00

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

2006-08-20T17:58:00.000+01:00

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

2006-08-18T18:12:00.000+01:00

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

2006-08-17T22:47:00.000+01:00

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...

2006-08-12T17:56:00.000+01:00

...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

2006-08-11T18:28:00.000+01:00

"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

2006-08-09T18:23:00.000+01:00

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

2006-08-08T18:25:00.000+01:00

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

2006-08-08T15:59:00.000+01:00

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

2006-08-03T15:16:00.000+01:00

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...

2006-08-01T17:08:00.000+01:00

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

2006-07-30T18:30:00.000+01:00

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

2006-07-25T21:08:00.000+01:00

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

2006-07-23T20:57:00.000+01:00

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

2006-07-22T18:18:00.000+01:00

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

2006-07-18T20:18:00.000+01:00

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?

2006-07-16T22:01:00.000+01:00

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

2006-07-15T19:48:00.000+01:00

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....

2006-07-15T08:50:00.000+01:00

... 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

2006-07-14T14:18:00.000+01:00

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

2006-07-11T17:49:00.000+01:00

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?

2006-07-11T07:42:00.000+01:00

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

2006-07-10T13:18:00.000+01:00

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

2006-07-09T12:54:00.000+01:00

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

2006-07-07T09:07:00.000+01:00

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)

2006-07-01T09:21:00.000+01:00

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

2006-06-29T13:45:00.000+01:00

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.

2006-06-29T13:15:00.000+01:00

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

2006-06-28T17:42:00.000+01:00

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

2006-06-28T15:42:00.000+01:00

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

2006-06-27T10:27:00.000+01:00

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

2006-06-26T17:40:00.000+01:00

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...

2006-06-23T21:36:00.000+01:00

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!

2006-06-23T21:12:00.000+01:00

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?

The Mouth Says It All

2006-06-23T15:56:00.000+01:00

I went to the dentist for a check-up today. For many years I had a phobia about going to see the dentist. I don't know why that began, but by the time you've not been for a check-up for 16 years, you have good reason to fear going for one! I conquered my fear of dentists 6 years ago and I am rather proud of that - because it was a very deep-rooted fear. I still become nervous before a visit - doesn't everyone? But it is totally manageable now.

I was driven to seeing a dentist in the end because of the extreme pain that I was suffering as my wisdom teeth came through. These were rather painlessly removed and on top of that I needed just two (very large) fillings. So I was lucky. Today I escaped scot-free but for the bill.

Prior to visiting a dentist 6 years ago I searched the internet for ideas to help me conquer my fear. I found sites containing details of why other people were afraid to go to the dentist. So I was not alone. This helped. I also found details of many practices that specialised in treating nervous patients - using everything from hypnotherapy to soft-music, aromatherapy, counselling, pre-consulation visits, mild sedation... I realised that at the end of the day, regardless of whatever music was playing in the background or whatever scents filled the air, I was going to have to lie flat and allow a dentist to look in my mouth (I hate the lying flat bit -it makes me feel so vulnerable). So I skipped all that and just went.

I am now considering a little cosmetic work. It has been suggested by my dentist that "teeth straightening and whitening would make all the difference". My mouth, when relaxed, looks like a squashed tomato that someone has thrown at my face and my chin manages to be strangely none-existent and yet, at the same time, double. My husband feels that I need no longer concern myself too much with my appearance as I am married now, and I can see his point in a way. (So nothing at all to do with the cost of these ventures then, dear husband!) But I rather fancy entering my 40s with something of the Cameron Diaz about my looks...

But, who cares! I'm alive!! I've conquered a fear!!! If you never have, you MUST. You must develop a fear right away just so that you can conquer it. It's WELL WORTH IT! (If you have difficulty thinking of a fear, please feel free to contact me. I have a few more that I could lend you).

(I'm sorry, Kathryn, if you are reading this. I know you told me to stop saying horrible things about the way I look and I will. From now on I will. I promise. OK. The truth is: I think that I, like many, many people, can look everything from $1m to 1 euro, depending upon an awful lots of things (make-up, mood, month-time - I wonder if I can make them all begin with "m"? I also think that a kind, smiley face is worth its weight in botox).

Anne and Louise have this and it's only right and proper that I should too.

2006-06-23T11:29:00.000+01:00

The idea is that you copy and paste this into the comments section and then answer the questions. I'll put my body armour on! (Re question 4, I would love it if a man were to answer this. I used to wish that I could invent a computer into which you could type a name, press "return" and it would reveal whether said person "fancied you or not"!! I had so many crushes as a young person. I kept very quiet about most of them. Mine was very much a tale of unrequited love ... at least I think it was. I have been tempted to list all my crushes on my friends reunited entry so that those listed could tell me now what they thought of me then!! - go on, dare me!!)

01. Who are you?
02. Are we friends?
03. When and how did we meet?
04. Do/Did you have a crush on me?
05. Would you kiss me?
06. Describe me in one word.
07. What was your first impression?
08. Do you still think that way about me now?
09. What reminds you of me?
10. If you could give me anything what would it be?
11. How well do you know me?
12. When’s the last time you saw me?
13. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn’t?
14. Are you going to put this on your blog/journal and see what I say about you?

And off he went into the tunnel, leaving me with just his cap....

2006-06-23T10:35:00.000+01:00

My dear son, Michael, will start "big school" in September. Yesterday, all new parents and pupils paid his new school a visit. The parents were to sit through an info session in the hall, and the new pupils were to go into their classroom for an afternoon of play, stories and whatever else.... to sample what was to come, I suppose.

The headteacher introduced herself and then asked our offspring to follow Mrs Davis out of the hall and into the corridor that would lead to their "Reception" classroom. My friend was sitting next to me with her daughter. Her daughter wasn't totally sure that she wanted to follow Mrs Davis out of the hall. "Go on," said her mummy, "perhaps you can hold Michael's hand. Michael. Will you hold hands?" So off he went, one hand holding onto his friend, and most of the other stuck inside his mouth.

(as an aside: how do I stop him with this terrible habit? If it's not his hand in his mouth, it's his sleeve and if it's not his sleeve then it's a cussion/ sofa / chair arm.... anything??).

I was left in the hall with the other parents, holding onto his little cap. My friend next to me was left holding onto her daughter's comforting teddy bear. "Off they go into the tunnel", said my friend. "It's really sad," she added, looking at teddy. "Mmm," I agreed. "Off they go into the tunnel, to emerge age 21, clueless as to what to do next".

But it's a lovely little school. It is very friendly, cosy and calm. The children there are happy, as are the teachers and the parents. It is a C of E school and I am glad that each of his days there will begin with an assembly with some religious content.

Mikey is really ready for this now - he was upset at having to leave the school yesterday and couldn't sleep last night because he is so excited about: his school tie (we had to buy his uniform yesterday); plimsoles and shoe bags; and school dinners. He was also very excited about all of the technical equipment that was in the hall (sound centres and lights and stuff).

All I could think of during the info session though was how similar it was to the ante-natal classes I had attended only the other day - or was it 5 years ago? - mums and dads sitting in a semi-circle and listening. Except now it's school...

Conversations with my husband

2006-06-22T18:01:00.000+01:00

He was sitting on his sofa and I was sitting on mine, and we'd just caught the last 4 minutes of the England Vs ??? match (I like to hear the match analysis following a game, as coaching and people-management interest me - kicking balls doesn't though - so we switch on for extra time and the natter. Pretentious? Moi?)

Me: Who decides where the world cup takes place?

Husband: [answered question. don't remember answer. I think it contained lots of "Fs" but I don't know how many because I'm no genius (see previous post)]

Me: So which sporting competition is it where the winner hosts the next event?

Husband: That's the Eurovision Song Contest

Me: Oh yeah.

Husband: (eyes fixed on TV) shheeesh

Me: (eyes also fixed back on TV) hng

My scarf and other animals

2006-06-09T18:26:00.000+01:00

It's growing. Slowly I'll grant you, but it's growing!

By law, every one who has a child in Britain must purchase a toy car like this. You will not enter a British law-abiding household with children and no such vehicle.

I look as if I am saying my prayers - but actually I dislike having my photo taken and my hands are clenched through mild anxiety. A quick poem about this photo:
I can only do a grin, never a seductive pout,
If I try a seductive pout, I look a bit a like a trout.

Boy I love this scarf.

Michael's patch of the garden. He waters it every so often ... in fact whenever he's playing outside and needs a pee.

Karate and Personality

2006-06-06T11:44:00.000+01:00

I am going to be brief here - could write a book on this. (for knitting and a question about the bible, please see below - lots of posts from me today and I'd hate my question on the OT to go unanswered!!)

This post follows on from a recent discussion on Supergroup7's excellent martial arts blog.

It is a brief summary of the findings of a single, small scale study of women shotokan karateka. I do not know which psychomtetric assessments or other methods were used. Significant findings were:
1) the shotokan karate women (SKM) were significantly more extravert than females who did not do karate, and more extravert than male karateka
2) SKW were more impulsive than the average male, and than the average male karate-ka
3) SKW were as "tough minded" as male karateka, and more so than non-karate women (where tough-minded means aggressive, hostile, generally troublesome, cruel, insensitive, have difficulty making friends) - but they were still low scoring in this trait
4) SKW scored much lower in "mental well-being" than non-karate women (where mental wellbeing is measured using indicators such as insomnia, fatigue, depression, loss of confidence, suicidal thoughts and so on) :-(
I have to say I'm confused about point 4 - I'm not sure how we are meant to interpret "scored much lower in"? I may have to speak to the original author about that, which may be possible....

Source: Layton, C and Randall, M (1998) "A Shotokan Book of Facts, Vol 3"

More is written in Vol 1 about research into the effects of karate upon the personality. I am interested in finding out more about the personailty traits of those who become interested in the martial arts... The above research was carried out using a small sample of women. It appears that there may be scope for more research here.

This is for Anne, but....

2006-06-06T11:37:00.000+01:00

- a better one will follow when I get myself sorted, and
- the scarf is now a lot longer than this (nearly onto ball 3), and
- for absolutely wonderful pictures of knitting, go to Anne's blog

The Old Testament

2006-06-06T11:28:00.000+01:00

I have a question (Anne, give John a nudge!)

Maybe everyone in the whole world knows this, except me. If so, apologies for being stoopid.

Here goes:
What is it about the writers of the Old Testament that means we should either believe what they wrote or follow any of the advice contained therein?

I hope that question makes sense - and I do not mean to imply any criticism of the OT or its writers. I would just like to know the answer to the question (in the same way as I like to know the qualifications and credentials of my doctor or health visitor before I take their advice etc.)

And whilst we're on the subject of the bible: what is one to make of:
a) the bits in the NT where people follow advice that comes to them in dreams (e.g. where the angel appeared to Joseph in a dream).

And
b) the bits that begin: "and the Lord spoke to him and said...."?

Photos

2006-06-05T17:45:00.000+01:00

I know that I promised more photos today but I am unable to deliver on this owing to a broken shutter at Asdas. I apologise for the delay in showing my photos and can assure you that they will be appearing as soon as the problem with the shutter at Asda's is recitified.

Ideas Please

2006-06-05T17:36:00.000+01:00

You may wonder how I've managed to bring this upon myself but, unless anyone more capable volunteers, I am probably going to be opening Michael's nursery school fete, dressed up as a character from a fairy tale (or as something else that will delight the children). Any ideas as to who, what and how???

(I need to be unrecognisable to the children, including my own, if that is at all possible.....)!!!!!!!!

Clip Clop Clip Clop Clip Clop

2006-06-03T22:14:00.000+01:00

... that's the sound as I lead this particular horse from her stable. Foot in stirrup; grab hold of saddle (Louise'll correct me if I'm wrong in my mounting procedure); one, two, three UP - she must be 17 hands, this horse. But I've made it up. Yet again. Yeap. I'm on my high horse. (Was that paragraph beginning to sound a little odd and unsavoury...?)

This time, it's the news. It really tees me off when news reporters try to go all poetic like this (from Channel 4 News yesterday, but they all do it far too frequently - BBC's the worst offender):

There is to be a by-election in Bromley (London) following the death of their MP. It's a Tory safe seat. Cameron hopes that one of his "A-listers" ("modern Conservatives") will win the seat. But Bromley is likely to elect more of a right wing traditionalist. News Reporter: "So, are the traditional Tory's here in Bromley safe as houses" (camera shows the handle and lock of a front door and pans out to show a house), "or is it not all wrapped up yet?" (camera shows a large box being wrapped up with ribbon)

Here's another recent example: a news report on problems associated with rural living ended with:
"... or is it all too woolly?" (camera panned from close up to long shot of a sheep).

I hate it when they do that. It's really contrived and it's just so patronising to the viewer. They always pause for a micro second before they lavish the visual punn. It REALLY ... gets my goat (camera shows goat chewing grass).

Now then let's see if I can get this to work....

2006-06-03T18:36:00.000+01:00

Here are some photographs.

This is the bed that Mario and I recently planted. In time it will hide his (beloved) shed. He sees no reason to hide the shed. But I do. We dug and planted this bed one evening whilst the children were asleep in bed (can not garden properly when they are awake). We were still digging and planting at 11.00pm, but we enjoyed a good bottle of bubbly in the process. We couldn't see our finished product until the following morning as it was really dark by the time we'd planted the last shrub!

And these are the knitting needles that my friend Anne sent me in the post today, as a reward for persistence in her caption competition (made in USA and painted in Russia and then returned to USA for assembly). I have fallen in love with these knitting needles - in fact it was a case of love at first sight. My next knitting venture will definitely make use of them. You can just see a tiny bit of the scarf that I am knitting to the left of this photo. It's there to tease you... I have a proper photo of it but I can't get it to appear upright. I'll have to fathom that out and get back to you...

You blog, I copy...

2006-06-03T18:14:00.000+01:00

Thanks Sarah for this. It's very interesting.

www.sarahcontrary.blogspot.com

You fit in with:
Spiritualism

Your ideals are mostly spiritual, but in an individualistic way. While spirituality is very important in your life, organized religion itself may not be for you. It is best for you to seek these things on your own terms.

60% spiritual.
60% reason-oriented.

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

Try this

2006-06-02T09:22:00.000+01:00

ALZHEIMERS' EYE TEST

Count every " F" in the following text:

FINISHED FILES ARE THE RE
SULT OF YEARS OF SCIENTI
FIC STUDY COMBINED WITH
THE EXPERIENCE OF YEARS...

(SEE BELOW)

HOW MANY ?

WRONG, THERE ARE 6.
READ IT AGAIN !
Really, go Back and Try to find the 6 F's before you scroll down.

The reasoning behind is further down.

The brain cannot process "OF".

Go back and look again!!

Anyone who counts all 6 "F's" on the first go is a genius.

Three is normal, four is quite rare.

More Brain Stuff . . . From Cambridge University.

Olny srmat poelpe can raed tihs.

cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The
phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy,

it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm.

Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if
you can raed tihs psas it on !!

Tales of the Unexpected

2006-05-31T18:27:00.000+01:00

Some of life's biggest, longest journeys can start without you ever realising that they're about to. You are totally unprepared for them. At 6.45 am on 23 April 2003, I was preparing myself for a journey. I thought that I might take my 18 month son to visit my mother and father in Wales. I wanted to leave London for a while and spend a few days up there surrounded by hills - it's so beautiful. I arose and started to pour a bath for myself, hoping to have a wash before Michael awoke.

The phone rang. "That'll be mum and dad now". I thought. Then, "It's a bit early. I hope everything's alright." Mario answered the phone and I could hear him talking downstairs. I could tell by the tone of his voice that something was not right. I walked downstairs. "Ruth's here now", he said. "No, you should tell her". And he asked me to sit down.

Mum then told me that my dad had died during the night. And I felt my self shatter into a million pieces...

Over time the pieces reassemble, but in a different way to how they were before. I miss dad hugely but I carry this sadness like a rucksack - it's on my back so that no-one can see it from the front, but I can feel its weight. And I am comfortable with its weight too. The wonder of a rucksack is that after a while, you barely notice that it is there.

So I did begin a journey on 23 April 2003. A journey that I have to take without the wit, wisdom, friendship and comfort of my wonderful dad. Except that I still feel his wit, wisdom, friendship and comfort every day. Thank goodness for that.

I want this for my blog

2006-05-30T17:42:00.000+01:00

I'm not sure how naughty this is, but I've just lifted a post, lock, stock and barrel, from someone else's blog and I'm going to place it right here (I mean, fortunately, of course, the post also remains on the original blog so it's not that bad, but...)

yearning for the sea

‘If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up the men to gather wood, divide the work, and give orders. Teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea’

-Antoine de Saint Exupery
www.thedeepend.squarespace.com/journal

You can see why I just had to have it, can't you.

To Wee or Not to Wee. That is the Question

2006-05-29T09:05:00.000+01:00

My first relationship lasted four years. It ended dramatically and disastrously when I was 24 years old. I figured that one of the numerous things that had contributed to the downfall of this partnership was that we had become so familiar with one another as to saturate all romance. There was no air of mystery or excitement in our relationship. This manifested itself in many ways. One manifestation of this was that we had no qualms about going to the toilet in each other's presence. I thought nothing of taking a wee whilst he cleaned his teeth in the same room. I decided that all future relationships would be conducted wholly outside of the bathroom door.

So, I always ensured that I'd been to the toilet before meeting up with boyfriend number 2 and it was months before I could bring myself to go to the toilet in the same building as him, never mind the same room. It had become a bit of a thing for me. This relationship fizzled out, neither helped nor hindered by my lavatorial policy. It made way for liaison number 3. Again, no weeing together. It ended and I met the man to whom I am now married (although not necessarily in that order).

Mario and I will celebrate our 6th anniversary this year. He has seen me wee, poo, vomit, give birth, laugh my head off, cry my eyes out, drunk as a Lord, sober as a judge (I used to work for a chap who was both a Lord and a judge - don't know anything of his drinking habits though), be totally reasonable, be totally unreasonable, overweight, underweight, angry, calm, depressed, contented... there is not a side to Ruth that he has not seen. He is the only person on this planet and beyond who could put up with me, but he does far more than that. He encourages me to be me. "You do it", he says. Quite often. And I say the same to him.

We have two sofas in our living room. He sits on one in the evening and I sit on the other. We watch old comedies together and laugh hysterically in totally different places. He says potato and I say tomato and there is no one I'd rather be with.

My conclusion: I think on balance it's better to save weeing together until after marriage.

Communication Problems

2006-05-26T13:06:00.000+01:00

How does it affect us to receive the depth and breadth of news that is now broadcast?

This morning, I continued to spread my toast when I heard the news on the radio that 8 people were killed in Iraq yesterday by a car bomb. News of 8 innocent deaths? Shouldn't that bring me to my knees in horror? I am immune to tragedies that do not personally affect me or those I love. Maybe people always have been immune to the tragedies of others, but it is only recently that we have started to receive news of them on a daily basis.

A hundred years ago I may have heard of a death in my village or town. I would have heard very little of occurrences beyond that. My sphere of influence, if you like, would have been, say 5 miles in radius and, say 2,000 people. Now, we each have a sphere of influence that is global. We hear of tsunamis in the Pacific, hurricanes in the States, genocide, terrorism, shootings... We also hear of a 13 month old baby who lives in a far away town who dies in hospital because he is mis-treated by the staff there. We hear of the death in a car crash of a celebrity. And via the telephone we hear that someone we worked with 10 years ago and did not know very well has died suddenly of a stroke at the age of 39. And via the internet, we know of the life's work of all those we were at school with. Are our minds designed to cope with all of this information?

But are we subject to more tragic news today than were our ancestors 100 or so years ago, when infant mortality was up to 50% and when we ourselves could expect to lose babies to stomach bugs, whooping cough, measles? Is it the case that our own lives are, on average, less tragic than those of our ancestors, but to make up for this we hear a whole lot more about the tragedies of others around the world.

What concerns me is that a century or so ago I may have heard, first thing in the morning that Mrs Miggins from the pie shop down the road had died in the night (were I Black Adder). I would then have ceased to spread my toast and run to the rescue of Mr Miggins and their children, with offers of comfort and practical help. Now, we hear news of terrible things and do absolutely nothing about it. The Morning News washes over us like the soap we used moments earlier in the shower.

When I did hear by telephone, fairly recently, that someone I had worked with 10 years ago had died suddenly of a stroke at the age of 39 I was dumb-founded. I could not stop thinking about it for 48 hours. I had to counsel myself about this and the only way that I could let it go was to tell myself that I ought not to know about it. This was information that had reached me via modern-age technology. It was information that I could do nothing with - I did not know her family; I could neither attend the funeral nor offer help. I had to put it out of my mind (impossible, of course, and I think of her family who I do not know at very regular intervals).

What a jumbled post this is. I'm not sure what point I'm trying to make other than to say that I am fascinated by impact of the "global village" on our psyche. I am intrigued that I know more about Tom Cruise and his wife's birth, Jade Goody and Paris Hilton than I do about my next door neighbours.

I'd do well to save this post as a draft and come back to it when I'm less tired, but I'm terrible for not doing that. I'm gonna stick it up the flag pole and see who salutes. And then I might come back to it and clean it up another time.

London: A Large Village Surrounded by Beautiful Countryside

2006-05-25T13:39:00.000+01:00

That's what the estate agents would have us believe if they could. Have a read of Louise's life-style up there in Scotland www.gemini-scotblog.blogspot.com In her most recent post she describes how she drops the children off from school and then goes bird-watching for half a hour or so before getting on with her day. This sounds idyllic to me.

I could not believe it when I first came to London (having spent my teenage years in the middle of nowhere, 12 miles from the nearest town) that people would pay a hefty, and I mean HEFTY, premium down here to live in a house that did its best to pretend to be in the middle of nowhere - e.g. on the edge of Wimbledon Common. And people called part of Wimbledon (where I lived at first) Wimbledon Village. Village???? It's in the middle of one of the largest conurbations in the world.

This morning I took a drive to one of London's satellite towns (which the estate agent's brochure also describes as a village!!!!) to look at a brand new 4 bedroomed house. This house is tucked away amongst a load of other new-builds, each of its rooms as tiny as they can possibly be without totally preventing you from exhaling. It'll cost comeone half a million notes to live there. They'll save themselves ten-thou if they opt for the identical house opposite, as that one does not enjoy a view of the "river": green swampy canal with corrugated iron sides to it. Oh, and there's a footpath nearby, through one field. So this location is almost rural....

Apparently where we live now is "semi rural", according to the estate agents. But we're on the Piccadilly Line! Twenty minutes from here and you're into Central London!!

What price a view, eh?

Sin and Sunday School

2006-05-24T16:36:00.000+01:00

As you will know if you've ploughed your way through previous posts in this blog, I am new to the wonderful world of Sunday School teaching. I lead the group one week in six - nothing too arduous - and, in fact, rather enjoyable. I've not been able to take on these light duties, however, without much soul-searching and to help me along with this, the vicar has started to host monthly meetings where I and other leaders can voice questions: anything to do with Sunday School (which I'd prefer to call Sunday Group, but I've not told them that yet.... some of them may in fact read that here for the first time, which will allow them time to arm themselves against that bit of "political correctness gone mad" (except please don't let's use that phrase, as it'll only make me worse).

At the most recent meeting, I voiced my concerns about the issue of confessional prayers. These are prayers that, for children, might begin with "Let us now call to mind all of the things that we have done wrong". I do not say these prayers with my children, nor do I relate any of "what they do wrong" to God, Jesus, Christian beliefs, church or morality. I have a four year old and, oh, I "tell him off", yes! I do a lot of that. But I try to stick to three rules:

1) If he is doing something to jeopardise the health and safety of himself or others, or if he is doing something that will have a tangible effect on his or someone else's property, tell him to stop and why.
2) Keep it short.
3) Move on. Do not rake over it again at a later stage. And certainly not at prayer time.

Sometimes, my four-year-old tells lies. I tackle this, despite it falling outside of rule number 1 (I mean you didn't think for one second that I actually succeeded in adhering to these rules, did you?) I am very careful to request that he tells the truth because otherwise it confuses mummy, or it wastes a lot of time. I do not tell him that "lying is wrong". Not yet. Maybe never...

"Why so woolly and liberal?" I hear some of you cry, whilst the rest of you shout "carry on like that and your son'll end up a knife-wielding axe-murderer."

Here are my fears. There are two of them. First, if a child's appreciation of what is right and what is wrong is founded primarily upon a moral code, such as the Bible, then if they let go of that code, they may well let go of their appreciation of what is right and wrong. So, let's say a child flies the nest at the age of 18 believing that promiscuity is wrong because the bible tells them so (can't say for sure whether it does or not, I'm afraid, but many Christians oppose sex outside of marriage so there must be something about it somewhere in there). They go, let's say, to university where they question the bible; their beliefs; the moral code with which they were brought up (all very healthy), they decide to reject it (maybe for a time, maybe for ever) and they no longer see any reason for not joining the rest of those in their Hall of Residence bonking the night away till kingdom come. Far better, in my opinion, for a young adult to reject promiscuity on the grounds of the emotional turmoil that it could bring about and, of course, on the grounds of the sexual diseases that can result from it if they do not use protection or if that protection fails them.

My second fear is this. I fear that too much talk of sin and confession can bring about a sense in a child, as they grow into a young adult, that they are, in fact, a "miserable sinner" and unworthy of being loved. I fear that may have repercussions on their ability to formulate healthy and loving relationships with others. I am concerned that unless it is handled very carefully, a focus on sin and confession can leave a child with a guilt complex that may take years to unravel.

I am open to opinion on this. Am I wrongly denying my poor Sunday School attendees, one week in six, of their opportunity to receive God's forgiveness for their sins, innocent as they are? We do say the Lord's Prayer (and I have not gone so loopy as to omit the "forgive our trespasses as we forgive those" bit). My concerns come into play not at the mere mention of sin and repentence, but when one dwells on it for any length of time. And I am not certain about the age at which I believe confessional prayers should be introduced.

I'm 37 years old and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up

2006-05-23T14:34:00.000+01:00

I'm a "full time mum" now and I'm very happy. Today Isabel clapped in all the right places during a rendition of "Wind the Bobbin Up" at her "Monkey Music"class, and that gave me as great a sense of "job satisfaction" as anything ever has.

But this phase of my life will come to an end. Isabel will not be 18 months for ever (give it another month ....) Soon she'll go to "big school" and I'll be back to where I was having graduated at age 21: clueless as to what to do.

Prior to motherhood I was a management trainer. In many ways, that was good and suited me, except that it didn't. Ohhh, what am I here for???? I have considered becoming a career's adviser, which begs a whole new take on that well known saying regarding teaching: "those who can find their ideal career, do; those who can't become careers advisers".

And of course I am not in the same boat as I was when I was 21 and had just graduated. Lots of career doors have now closed to me on the grounds of age and flexibility. I do not want that job on a North Sea oil rig, thank you very much, as I wish to be home every evening to feed, bath and bed the little ones. I enjoy hearing the slamming sound of those career doors closing actually - less choice makes for easier choosing.

In the past, BC (before children), I attended career seminars, read books, completed psychometrics, gazed long and hard at my navel and still did not know what I should do job-wise. I had hoped that during this extended baby-making career break some vocation or other might make itself apparent to me. But no. Retirement appeals. I know that much. But what's to do between now and then....?

Dear Denise Robertson (oooh, I do like her advice. I'd love to talk to her)
I'm a 37 year old has-been who needs to re-train into something exciting and well-paid with lots of time-off. What do you recommend?
Confused of london.

Of course, my plan is to return to not thinking about this for at least another 12 months.

It's just that I visited pastures old this weekend and realised that everything had changed and decided that it was time for me to change too. The village where I lived as a child just did not feel like home at all any more. It was like Trigger's brush in the comedy "Only Fools and Horses". Trigger was the road sweeper who won a prize for making his brush last for 12 years. "That's amazing, Trig", cried his mates down the pub. "You've really made the brush last as long as that." To which he replied "Yeah, Dave. Well, of course, I've changed the handle on it 8 times and replaced the head every year, but other than that, it's the same brush". And my old village was about as much like my old village, as Trigger's brush was his original brush.

So people are right when they say there's no going back, I concluded on Sunday evening. Time to look to the future.

Right. Time to bath the children. Except no can do. The water's off owing to a burst pipe somewhere. Remind me not to work for the Water Board.

Out With The Old

2006-05-19T15:55:00.000+01:00

It's the time of year when (other) people do their spring cleaning and this year I'm going to do some too. Noooooo, not the house, silly, my blog-profile of course. If it's an interest that I have not pursued in the last three months, then it has to go from the list. So out goes "performing magic tricks" (read one book, learnt one trick); out goes learning Italian (tho' it'll have to come back soon as we're due over there this summer and I've promised relatives I'll be able to communicate with them this time); out goes reading about history (sorry to see that one go - "miss you loads - I'll be back"); and out goes "running toddler prayer group" (I'm Sunday School teacher now instead). Hmmm.

One friend suggested that I should remove "over-weight" from my "About Me" bit but that's because she's not seen me for a few weeks now. It has to stay, I'm afraid.

Movies, music and books can stay the same, even though to admit to liking hymns is "so, like, not cool". I wish my "likes" were a bit less mainstream and I was more mysterious and interesting. But there we go.

If you are reading this today, why not go to www.rivendellfi.blogspot.com and wish Fi a happy birthday!!

Thank You

2006-05-16T17:38:00.000+01:00

Thank you for your comments and responses to my theological questions below. What wise and supportive friends I have, both "real" and "virtual". I really did find your thoughts helpful. I also find it very encouraging that not one of you comes across as being a bible-wielding nutcase (sorry, I should have phrased that differently but I can't think of how else to put it at the moment). I do fear that "any member of the public who learns that I go to church" may think that I am either:
a) going to try to convert them
b) going to quote chapter and verse willie-nillie, like Dot Cotton off Eastenders, or be in some way like any of the other vile "religious" stereotypes they place in Soaps that are watched by a third of the population
c) going to be anti-gay, anti-cohabitation outside of marriage, anti-divorce or anti a whole host of other wonderful freedoms that allow us to live our lives to the full in a way that no previous generation has been able to

I don't know why I feel this need to question the issue of faith at the moment, but I do. One of the reasons that I can not simply dismiss it all and turn away is because I have known some really wise and intellectual people who have devoted their lives to the church. A friend of mine who is an atheist responded to that comment from me recently by saying that she knew a host of really wise intellectuals who are atheists (Mario's reading this from over my shoulder and he thought I'd typed anaesthetists there; GO AWAY HUSBAND. He's still there: GO AWAY ). Yes. So do I. A lot of my friends are atheists and very clever ones too. (He's just thrown a hankie at me: GO AWAY). But my counter-argument is you don't devote your life to being an atheist. It's not just that these people believed in God; they became priests or monks, rather than lawyers or doctors or whatever. And I think that if they believed in it all so much, then there must be something in it, or at least, it has to be worth exploring. So once again, thank you for helping me with those questions.