Mummy at the School Gate

I have a tots100 badge on my sidebar...I have no idea why as my three are no longer tots. It just seemed like a good idea at the time!  However, I wonder whether I should remove it as I'm not in the 100 mark, or even the 200 mark...it's way, way lower.  I think it's off any scale that has been devised.  Why would I be proud to be 588th?? It's made me giggle all morning.  I think I may have to do a little bit more cleaning...of the blog; the home is filthy as it is and doesn't need any more help. While it's a great idea to find out where you are score wise and who you are reaching, it is linked to Twitter and Facebook, which may give you an idea of the work involved but it's a great way to find other blogs to add to your rss reader.  Don't add tots100 to your page if you are a sensitive soul, as it will have you reaching for the tranquillisers!

Smells evoke memories of a time and place. I say this because recently I lost my sense of taste and smell for a while, and despite not being able to smell or taste anything I could imagine and remember what they were like.  I pondered the idea of just eating just lettuce and pretending that it was chocolate.  Having tried the experiment on cottage cheese, I soon realised that it really wasn't going to work.  Cottage cheese does not have the texture of cake...it has the texture of cottage cheese! I have a candle on my desk. It's in a tin and was bought for my birthday by Bart.  I haven't lit it.  But every now and then, I lift the lid off and breath in the beautiful smell of a bluebell wood. I'm sure it doesn't smell like a bluebell wood. I'm not even sure I've smelt a bluebell wood, but it says so on the tin.  Now that spring is here, I open the door and smell the wonderful fresh distinctive smell of new beginnings. Walking the beasts, I smell growing gras

Friday started pretty much the same as most days. Get up, get dressed, kids dressed, breakfast, shout, school run, chit chat at the school gate, back home, walk the beasts...then a quick glance at t'interweb. However, the quick glance turned into a marathon 6 hour visual, visceral, disseminating experience...and I'm not sure I actually enjoyed it. You see, I have recently joined up to Twitter..(so I suppose I'm either a twit or a tweep), and let me tell you, it's shattering! Twitter is a social experience. Twitter expects interaction, after all that is its purpose, but I find  it has stolen huge chunks of my day. My phone receives tweets; my ipad receives tweets, but why do I feel this need? I've actually stopped answering my phone and text messages, in case I miss that tweet.  Why, for gods sake?  I didn't even tweet with anyone!. For the second time this week, I've read a post which explained why they "unfollow" on Twitter. "Admirable,&q

"Cup of tea?" "Yeah" "Get a move on" "Later" "Taking the dogs out!" "Stay" "Peewee! No!" "Tired" "Later "I said later!" "OK" "What did you have for lunch?" "Good day at the office?" "Oh?" "I said later!" "Bed!  Now!" "Not tonight...I've got a headache!"

I once tried not to buy anything new for a whole year...I lasted 5 days! So much for my year of austerity.  I caved in because I saw an eyeshadow that I knew would change my life. I love recycling, it gives me a sense of doing something worthy.  We've always brought second hand furniture (BH says Antiques), but the effect is the one we're always after.  A great afternoon for me is a wander around the Junk (antique) shops, in the hope of a great find. It's not for me, the expedition to Ikea, although I do like their napkins....and the meatballs with gravy and cranberry sauce!  BH gets palpitations in Ikea, and pulls at the neck of his shirt.  I can tell he's getting a bit angsty, so I divert him with a plate of herrings and smoked salmon. Years ago, I was a regular car boot attendee.  I'd take a fiver, and give Bart £1, and off we'd go on a Sunday morning (before rugby took over our lives), I'd find great books, great dresses, and great crap...I once boug

I watched something quite awful unfold on Twitter last week, and I began to wonder whether we are being a little bit too open about our personal lives?  I have nothing to hide about my personal life (except my identity!), and  my personal details are there for all to see. There are "crazies" out there, that we can be sure of, but I never expected to see such vitriolic abuse targeted at one individual. To cut a long story short, an individual, for reasons of their own decided to target a particular lady who had been campaigning and raising awareness for different charitable groups.  This lady had been open and honest and had suffered her own personal tragedy, but for some reason " the crazy" had decided that she was a charlatan.  Over a period of a week her "friends" had become the subject of a barrage mad tweets and saw the lady being reduced to a  quivering wreck and trying to explain to friends what had happened in a very moving audio boo .  Subsequent

We're not a morning family.  Our ride to school is generally quiet.  We don't talk.  Bart commandeers the radio as we make our 30 minute journey to the beat of drum and bass.  There's no arguing or fighting.  It really is quite peaceful apart from the thud of the radio. We pass two lollipop people on the way.  One elderly man and one elderly woman.  The lollipop man always waves as we pass and the kids wave enthusiastically back.  For some reason we call him Bob.  He's wiry and small and his bike is always propped up against the lamppost. A further 10 minutes into the ride is the other lollipop person. The lollipop lady never waves back. She never smiles. She too, rests her bike against the lamppost. We call her Miserable Madge.  The kids think that she maybe blind as she never sees them waving.  I've tried to tell them that it would be impossible to have a blind lollipop lady, but they're not having any of it.  We've been doing the same journey for the pa

                                                      

I think I've been bullied...well not exactly bullied but chastised for not doing something the wasn't in my remit!  How did I handle it?  Badly I think.  Initially, when he approached me, I apologised for not doing that thing I wasn't supposed to do. I apologised and remained calm and took responsibility for the error/oversight. But he kept on going!   Tell me once, and it goes in, but tell me a second, third and fourth time it becomes a little bit irritating. I'm not three! Sometimes I'm an adult.  It really was no biggie.  However, it was for him.   I think it may have been his passive/aggressive stance on the matter that raised the hackles. Stern faced, enunciated, clipped words, I declared,  "I will repeat myself, yet again...I apologise!" and with a toss of the hair I flounced off in the direction of the loo's where I had a weep at the anger mounting in me!  At that point I really wished I was a ninja! "Breath in, breath out, he's a