Mummy at the School Gate

It's that time. Christmas organising time.  I do love me a bit of gold and bling around the homestead and I've settled on gold and rose for this years theme. I'm not sure that we'll be entertaining the masses as per usual but I've placed my order for the turkey which is the size of a small cow. I'm certain we'll be able to polish it off, though.  Which brings me onto the third most important item on the list of things to do. Find that Christmas outfit.   I’m not too good with accessories. I can do a scarf if it's cold.   I’ve one of those of stacks which contain all of my jewels..not that I wear any.  My wedding ring is somewhere under the floorboards in our last house and my engagement ring is in the stacked jewellery box missing half the diamond chips but still retaining its sapphire! BH spent a whole weeks wages on it many moons ago so it needs to be kept safe. The wedding ring I bought myself because BH forgot to get one prior to the wedding so I ran

 Instagram, Influencers and my Bank Balance For a minute I thought my blogging account had been stolen! It's been so long since I felt the urge to put pen to paper (or computer) that I'd forgotten the gmail account that I'd used for the blog, which was once the love of my life but it now seems that everyone has moved on to "Insta" and YouTube and I've let it fall my little blog fall behind the times. I've watched a few IGTV'ers, even followed a few...but I've been truly left behind in the social stream of the internet world.   Is mummy blogging out of vogue or has everyone my age moved onto pastures new?   The truth is my kids aren't kids anymore, so I'm not strictly a 'mummyblogger'.  (I probably never was as I was and am a wee bit older than the usual suspects.)  The kids are now on the cusp of adulthood with lives of their own; Instagram accounts of their own and ideas which seem completely alien to me. I can't seem to influe

It's been a while, but I suddenly wondered where I was and what I was supposed to be doing...and it wasn't what I was doing 10 minutes ago. 10 minutes ago I was washing the floor. 10 minutes ago I was thinking as I was washing the floor, my mind wandering over and past all of the conversations I've had with various people. Interesting people and people who seem to live fuller lives than mine. I remember one chap, a colleague, (who I'd spent several days with drinking coffees and smoking, bantering, putting the world to rights, talking about HIS family, HIS adventures, HIS thoughts for the future) and he said to me after he'd been chatting with another colleague "You're boring! She's done so much. She's soooo interesting!". At the time, I thought he was a twat, but 10 minutes ago I wondered if he was actually right. 10 minutes ago, I thought, "Is this it? Is this the sum total of my life? Is this what I'm destined to do for the res

I honestly don’t know how it happened.  One day I was wearing a g-string, planning my underwear,  waxing my bits, checking the view from the back...then BAM...the next time I looked my undie drawer was full of mahoosive knickers!  Could I find a thong or a sexy ensemble amongst the detritus that used to be a part of me? When did I go from sexy lady to frumpy, lumpy Mum? When did I decide that it was OK to forgo the pretty knickers?  I think the reason I'd noticed then and hadn't noticed before was that I'd look for the most comfortable I could find.  You see, the worst thing happened. It's not easy to say, but it's true.   I just got fat.   Hmmm...I don't know how that happened either. Little knickers started to cut into my thighs. Little knickers rolled down. I couldn't see the tops with the new muffin top I'd acquired and Little knickers didn't cover my bum any more. So, I started to buy Big knickers. Stretchy ones. Black. I started off wi

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