Mummy at the School Gate

This is going to sound contentious. It isn't, but in all honestly I just don't get it.  Let me start by saying I'm all for sustainability, green and recycling stuff but what I saw last week was beyond the pale. Cycling is not the same as recycling. I can see how it helps the environment to a certain extent, but breathing all those fumes is not helping the human race.  Don't get me wrong. I love a bike. I finally bought my Pashley Princess from a lady on eBay. She'd bought it so that she could ride up to the City to her job. She'd done it for a month, but felt it was far too dangerous especially since she'd become a mother, she'd fallen off when another cyclist cut her up and she lost her front tooth.  She now takes an Uber.   I pop up to the shops when I can't get the car out or I fancy a ride around the block...for pleasure. I ride on the pavement. Slowly. The potholes round my way are seriously massive. If I lived in London, I'd often th

It's not often that I make errors but when I do they are almighty clangers They are often funny dinner anecdotes in which I regale listeners with exaggerated versions depending on how extrovert or witty I feel. This tale, however has never been exaggerated or expanded upon. It was a tough decision. The one where you decide to have his knackers chopped off. It's not one to be taken lightly especially when you know he'd make a fantastic father. He has great genes, a beautiful face, and a fab nature. I'm not talking about BH (I'm guessing you realise this already) but our fur baby. Brown Bear.  He'd taken to running after females in heat. BH, Finn and Bart grabbed their privates and winced grotesquely when I'd suggested it, but it was the sensible option considering that he'd escaped from the garden on numerous occasions in search of that elusive scent of the female hound. He was in all senses...a bounder! It came to a head, when walking in the park.

I wish the kids would listen to me....I've been a role model, albeit not a very good one. I don't drink or smoke in front of them.  I try not to swear or use foul language in front of them (which has proven a tad difficult when driving and they're my passengers when I come across a numpty who insists on driving well below the speed limit or who cuts me up with gay abandon!) I used to explain why they couldn't do something and explain in detail the reasoning behind my "no" request...and a request it was.  Now I just say "...because I said so!".   I can no longer be bothered to get into a debate especially as they began to argue back and I seem to lose my bargaining power.  Did I teach them that?  They've become very good at coming across with valid arguments to support their "wants" and are very persuasive these days.  How did that happen? I think it might have something to do with the Debating Team at school. Bart has taught his y

It was a strange conversation to be had at 7am in the morning but considering the topic it was probably better than politics or religion.  I'd seen ‘Four Dog Lady’ many times before and had passed a few salutations when our paths crossed. It wasn't difficult to wave and shout 'Good Morning' and continue on my way, but occasionally I felt the need for a bit of chit chat and allow the dogs to sniff, growl or consider their pecking order before moving swiftly on.  As usual, it was a beautiful morning in the park.  It wasn't an ordinary park found in suburban areas, but acres of beautifully planted shrubbery, paths for runners, and a haven in the early mornings for dog walkers. A spot we'd named Twilight Barking was a point where four paths met at an open space beside a bridge and running stream where dogs could cool down and clean off the mud from the walk before they returned home. Dogs and owners would converge at this point, either starting or finishing th

I'm not being morbid here...or am I? Morbid curiosity? But what happens to those blogs of people who've passed away? It's something I've wondered about for a while...but not too deeply. However, recently it came to the fore when I heard about an old colleague. The reason I remembered her so well was that I was about to leave my son for a few days and was waving him off outside our offices.  I was upset and a few tears were running down my cheeks. She was waiting for her husband to collect her. "Don't cry" she called over "you'll start me off...and I'm going to see my boy!" I laughed tearfully, pushed the lump in my throat back down to my chest where it sat like painful knot and went on my way. I'd heard about her in the following years, after she'd left the company we boy worked for. Her son had beome incredibly ill and after a couple of years past away at the age of 14.  She had her love and religion to help her through

Ok, so I'm a bit late with the 'out with the old' but I've been terribly busy doing very little. However, the new year is well and truely 'in' and I'm dragging all of the 'old' in with me! I have so much 'stuff' that I literally cannot see the good stuff or the stuff I like.  I end up using only the 'stuff' I can see, which isn't always a good look. I popped over to sis's place the other day as she'd had a whole brand new kitchen installed. Y'know, the one with the massive island, bifold doors, boiling water tap, copper lighting and oh so expensive beaten leather dining chairs. The whole place is clutter free with clear surfaces. Not a kettle in sight! She can even put the oven knobs in the drawer! She took me up to her swish dressing room. A home for everything. Shoe shelves. Neatly folded t shirts in coloured piles. She even had a chaise for trying on her multitudes of shoes!  I came over all faint for a momen

I don't watch a lot of TV. OK, I'll admit it...I watch a  teeny weeny bit but its usually a drama on catch up or something staid and dull like The great British Sewing Bee or How neat is my Garden. I don't do 'Big Brother', 'I'm a Celebrity' or even 'Strictly'. I don't really do much reality if anything at all...but Love Island has seriously grabbed my attention...if only for the drama and the utter craziness of the world, young adults and social media. Why has my world been so small?   @loveisland - Twitter There is absolutely no way that I'm going to admit watching in public(and I follow all the contestants...eek!) so when BH has caught me at it I told him it's down to the social experiment research that I need to do for my book.  Watching how young people interact with one another in groups that piques my curiosity and that we'll need this info for when the kids get older. Seriously! Each night he'll catch me

The kids are all grown up...or at least that's what they think. Living with teenagers is a blast...not! We're in the midst of choices, exams, school changes and whatever the world can try and throw at us.  I'm ducking it all and letting them each make their own decisions....a cop out I know, but try talking some sense into an obstreperous 15 year old who thinks gaming is a career choice and a 14 year old who believes that university is not the bee all.  And there was me thinking that in a very few short years, I'd be free of their smelly feet, the 'Perry' effect,  so that me and Mimi would have some quality time and do girly things together. It seems like Mimi has other ideas too. Apparently she asked my child free sister for ideas to make money as "Mummy won't pay pocket money". Sister was aghast and took her down to her studio where she makes all manner of crazy stuff from junk and gave her a few ideas. I'm a bit cheesed off as I thought M

Cast of BBC's War and Peace - photograph Mitch Jenkins/BBC Go on, admit it. You haven't read War and Peace, have you? I hadn't, but after the beautiful epic of the recent televised drama, I decided that I should....so I am!  The BBC drama ended all too quickly, and by rights should've had a further 20 episodes, and that would've given me then opportunity to lust after the stunning James Norton for a few more weeks. I'm not sure what had put me off all these years. I can't understand why I put it aside in favour of a lesser tale. I think it might have been the thought of lugging the thick tomb about that had put me off (it's seriously thick!) or maybe the thought of the flowery descriptions...and the war bit. I didn't think I'd understand it; that it might be too intellectual.  But it's not like that at all. It's bloody excellent. It's a descriptive piece, but the characters are full of life and I can see each one of the

Standing at the crossroads of life, do you ever wonder where that other path may have taken you? You know...the one that you stood at, looked down and thought '"Nah...I don't like the look of it"?  Do you regret the choices you've made or worry about those missed opportunities that might have made the life you live so very different? I'm pretty happy with my lot. Last night I did something that I don't regret. Generally, I'm someone who always looks forward, tries not to look back and gets on with the task in hand. I don't look over my shoulder, and I know that the grass is never greener on the other side or if it looks it, it's usually the same as the grass on this side. It's all grass. I have no idea what made me do what I did and I had no intention of doing anything about it. I looked on Facebook for an old boyfriend...and found him!!! Well...I found his profile anyway. It took me back to those days when I was young, pretty and ,

We've seen and heard it all before at the school gate, but there appears to be a phenomenon where lots of my friends congratulate their children on Facebook.  Nothing wrong with that.  It's nice to be proud of your little sprogs, but it's beginning to make me feel that my little and large sproglets are on a hiding to nothing.  Really, it makes me feel a bit sick in my mouth when I open up my FB page of a morning and has found that my frenemy, Giselle has posted on her wall "Well done, Sproglet!  Winning the overall champion of Mensa!"   I mean, really?  Isn't that boasting and not congratualting? Your child is 5!! He doesn't  even have a Facebook account!  I know, I've looked.   Now I can understand being proud. I can understand writing on your childs wall, but I can't understand why you don't realise that I know, that you know that I know it's just plain competitive and it makes me feel inadequate. But that's what you want, isn