Mummy at the School Gate

OK, I promised that I would do a book review in return for the book!  Well, I couldn't really do a book review without it could I? It's taken me an age, as I really needed some time to sit down and take it seriously...and I'm so glad that I did.  Normally, I just plough through them, with no thought to the work and effort that has gone into writing, but wishing I could write as well and wondering how I could fit in the time between the shopping, cooking and cleaning, to write my best seller.. ..not a chance!!  The Making of Us by Lisa Jewell .  Thought provoking in the main, Lisa Jewell's portrayal of a children alone, reuniting and  forming their own nucleus. A reality that many will face now and in the future. Lydia, Dean, Robyn and Daniel all joined in a search, to find the truth, themselves and each other. Each of them are told of the circumstances surrounding their births, and each of them have walked a separate and traumatic path to adulthood.  The story

I need a new bike, and I want a Pashley Princess.  I'm fed up with the great weights of mountain bikes, and bikes where I have to lean so far forward I'm practically laying face down.  I don't want 25 gears or an aluminium frame so light I could carry it across the lake.  I want to ride on something sedate and be fitting of someone of my age. I want to get on a bike in a dress, with the wind in my hair and a basket to put my flowers in after I've plucked them from the hedgerow.  I want to pedal effortlessly through the maze of the woods, and I don't want mud up the back of my calves. Pashley Princess-image kindly supplied by Pashley. Then I came down to earth with a bump!!  Have you seen the prices of those beauties?  I could buy 10 pairs of good shoes for the kids, or  a holiday (for me solo!) at a health farm!  I could pay off my credit card bill in one foul swoop, or I could buy at least 3 pairs of vertiginous heels from coveted designers...ones I can only

My mum has always popped out wise sayings at appropriate moments and when I was younger, I couldn't understand what she was going on about.  It's only now that I have kids myself, I find myself repeating the same phrases that she did and actually understanding the meaning behind them.   My kids have no idea what I'm going on about as they take each sentence as something which is said by their mother when she's trying to offer advice. They have to question me a million times about what I actually mean.  Very often Bart will say "Why don't you just say what you mean?  It really is annoying when you don't get to the point!" Mimi will look at me blankly then just carry on with what she's doing.  She has no idea what I've just said, but doesn't question it.  She knows it means something, but isn't really bothered about it. I can see it in her eyes. I can read her like a book.  "Ma, I have no idea what you're saying....and really I

It's an age old debate...are you lucky or not? The other questions could be...is your glass half full or half empty.  We know the right answer to that.  My glass is generally half empty but that's only because I want it re-filling. I think the two are linked. But is it how we view our perception of luck or do we really attract bad luck? I recently attended a couple of events.  On the table at both events were people who I view as intelligent, quick witted and interesting but who are either plagued with bad luck or blame outside influences for their lack of "je ne sais quoi."  One of the guests couldn't get a job in the industry he wanted.  I'd asked him what he'd tried and he replied "Nothing, it's not worth it...all the jobs are taken by those in the know" He'd put it down to his "bad luck" in never getting the job he wanted. He was plagued with it stating "I've never got what I wanted!" He poo pooed his degre

I've been told many times that I have a "commercially viable voice".I'm not too sure what that means but I think it may have something to do with it's tone and timbre. You see, I have a deep voice. Deeper than most women's sweet  tinkling sounds. I've always had it. Ma used to laugh, especially in the morning when her sweet little girl would croak  "'ello mummy!".  I've also been told that I'd be good working the sex chat lines, but I tend to disagree as the filthiest words I use are generally "Take out the rubbish, you effing lazy git!" When I phone for room service on my many jaunts, it's usual for the room service attendant to reply "It will be with you shortly, Sir." I used to respond "It's Madam, actually", but that sounded too prim, and very often they'd have put down the phone before I'd had a chance to respond. Now, it's quite useful to phone on behalf of BH and pretend tha

I think I may live in Stepford.  I have lived here for 15  years. I don't know anymore people than when I first moved here.  I don't know my neighbours and I don't know anyone who I could borrow an egg from. It's not that it's unfriendly here. I'm on nodding terms with many of the dog walkers, apart from those with dobermans and rottweilers (who freak me out!),  but the only time I actually see anyone is when they're out washing their cars on a Sunday and in winter...forget it, the village looks like a small pox alert has been called! There is a community. We have a community library, a post office, a pub, a sports club and we have a church, but I'm not part of it. My home is my castle. I have built a metaphoric wall around it and prefer not to become involved. I don't see my neighbours, because I don't have to.  I come out of my house and I don't see the houses either side, I jump into my car and off I go.  If I walk around the village, I

I'm all excited...wanna know why?  I'm going to do my first review!!  Not just any old review, but of a book...and I get to read it first!! Yee haaa! Another part of me, which I'd forgotten as its such a major part of my life and is taken for granted is that... I read!  Not just one book each week but it can sometimes be up to 7 or 8.  I calculated once, that I spent more on books each month than on clothes...that's how much I love the written word! I've always told the kids that I would always buy them any book they wanted, no matter the cost as a love of reading can change one's life and perspectives. It has never been questioned or the subject of debate and they know if they need a bit of retail therapy, then toys are never the answer in my book (pun, geddit?), but a book will push all those buttons. Bart, always asks for books then sticks them on the shelf never to be looked at again.  Finn on the other hand devours his books by the dozen. He then flicks

I've been given a couple of awards today so it looks like I'm going to busy the next couple of hours wracking my brain to find suitable responses and try and find 10 + 7 blogs to those who haven't already been awarded.  I'm sure you'll all be totally bored by the end of this post, and I won't be surprised if anyone denies they ever heard of me!! The Kreativ Blogger award was awarded by Him, me & three . Please go and visit her lovely blog.   There are, as always, rules with the award and they are as follows; 1) Link to 10 Blogs 2) Let the 10 bloggers know they’ve been awarded 3) List 10 facts about you The Versatile Award was awarded by 40blogSpot for my ramblings...she thought it amusing! Please go and visit, her blog is great! 1) Link to 15 Blogs 2) Let the 15 bloggers know they’ve been awarded 3) List 7 facts about you Phew...I have no idea how I'm going to find 25 blogs that no one else has seen, but I will try my hardest. It may t

Unsurprisingly, the post about my au-pair created the most outrage amongst my lovely fellow bloggers.  It was a tad unexpected though, because I found the incident quite funny (although a little disturbing, if I'm honest.). Ben has been hiding in his room...in fear of his manhood I guess. BH has made himself available for all viewings should they happen suddenly. Miriam, well, she's just Miriam. Water off a ducks back!  I finally plucked up the courage to tackle it head on and came away feeling a bit of a prude!  I mean, after seeing Mocha Beanie Mummies silent Sunday post (the wardrobe decoration)..I guess I shouldn't be too harsh on the poor girl. Miriam was surprised that she offended anyone..but was the garden off limits for sunbathing in a bikini? I said no, of course not as long as she shaves her legs...well, she said where's the difference? Miriam has been with us for quite sometime.  The boys like her, Mimi likes her, BH is terrified of her (which is how

Several weeks ago (March 26th) we all saw a drama unfolding on our TV's.  A woman rushed into a hotel in Tripoli, where a group of foreign journalists were staying and having breakfast and told of her torture and gang rape at the hands of 15 of Gaddafi's Militia.  It was a frantic and frightening scene leaving many wondering what had happened to her.  Many thought she would disappear never to be seen again, and little has been reported of  the case that shocked much of the world, at least on our TV's. Iman al-Obaidi was released into the care of her sister and on April 3rd gave a telephone interview on Libya TV. She told of her kidnapping, of her ordeal, and of her escape. She spoke of the 16 year old girl, also held along with other women. She spoke of her arrest and detention after the scene at the hotel, and the subsequent demands from officials that she change her story to reflect that it was the rebels that held her and not Gaddafi's men. They have offered an ap

I was recently asked by another blogger for my "must reads". I'm probably not the best person to ask as I think the back of a cornflake packet can make for fascinating reading, but there are a few that I'll spend time over and will visit several times a week.  I like to think of them as my "friends" as they have something to say that I find interesting. They probably won't be every one's cup of tea, but if you're looking for something a bit different look no further than this eclectic bunch. In no particular order Not tomorrow, but soon . Mr London Street  Wit and Pendulum  Manana Mama Miss Behaving  40 Blog Spot   Diary of a Desperate Exmore Woman Katy Acquaye Tonge  Knackered Mothers Wine Club  Diary of a Mad Housewife A Very British Dude  Babylon Lane Tales For me reading these are like visiting the homes of friends where I can relax, laugh, reflect or be peaceful...everyone has something different to offer and each of them offer somet

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

My au pair Miriam , is a beautiful sultry girl from the Slovak Republic or Slovakia as it is most commonly known. Most of the girls that have lived with us either come from Slovakia or the Czech Republic.  I've chosen them in particular because they have the "family values" that I want for my family.  I know that I can't tar everyone with the same brush, it's just that it has worked for me. However...Miriam is the exception to the rule.  Miriam is sensual; Miriam languishes; she loves burning candles and incense sticks. She loves long, bubbly baths with big fluffy towels.  Miriam walks the dogs in stilettos (how?), and loves my red lipstick (on her!) Miriam loves MTV.  Miriam loves raiding my wardrobe, and Miriam loves men...all men! As was usual for a Sunday early evening we had all settled down to watch a movie. Mimi was in bed and the boys were snuggled up on the sofa with BH.  Ben , (22 and stunning!), was on the other sofa, with his laptop researching with

Yes, I've gone all self sufficient.  Not totally, just slightly. I've dug over part of the veg patch, but then had to sit down as I came over all faint. Peewee had been helping, but he was digging in all of the wrong places. However he did unearth some treasures...beetroots and parsnips from last year!  They were so tiny and deformed that I realised that chucking them all in without thought of spacing was probably a bad move. Ah well, we learn by our mistakes. Peewee is rather keen on gardening. I know this as he has taken a liking to my gardening books. They are in tatters now because he's darn well chewed the lot! So now I'm busy looking through the seed catalogues and I remembered when my Ma used to do the same thing.  She would sit and plan her garden, much like I'm doing now.  She'd allow me to pick the seeds I wanted and I would plant them in my very own patch.  They were never successful, because I never watered them.  She loved roses and the garden, a