Absolutely Write

Gone Back to Gone Back South

2010-05-04T23:40:00.003+02:00

Dear Reader,

I've gone back to writing my old blog:

www.gone-back-south.blogspot.com

See you there!

Miracle Haircut

2010-02-03T22:56:00.006+01:00

Today I had my hair cut. When I went to pick up at school, Biker Boy scowled and grumbled, with the tact and kindness of a breeze block: "Mum, I hate your hair when you get it cut - it looks ugly".

Moments later, one of the mums (who has had more time to learn that tact and kindness do actually get you quite far in life), gushed: "Ooooo your hair looks lovely! Very neat, it's gone a bit Mary Quant hasn't it, Ooooo!"

So I confided that I'd taken a photo of a pretty short-haired celebrity to show the hairdresser what I wanted, but she had completely ignored me and not cut it in that style at all. At this point my friend burst out laughing and spluttered: "You don't still do that, do you? A-HAHAHAHAHA! Hey that hairdresser's rubbish, I told her I wanted to look like Jennifer Aniston and look at me now ... A-HAHAHAHAHA!"

My friend is apparently of the view that a mother of 42 isn't likely to want a style makeover, and ought to be having her hair cut at home rather than in a salon because it's cheaper, and in the same plain old mumsy hairstyle that she's had for the last 10 years, that only takes 10 minutes to trim. Oh and there's probably no point in covering the grey, and come to think of it, why bother shaving your underarms either.

But it was quite a funny moment nevertheless, this "excuse me, I know I'm haggard and grey and frumpy, but please can you make me look like Victoria Beckham?" wheeze. Although slightly embarrassed, I was secretly quite proud of myself for still acting a bit like a teenager sometimes.

Blizzard Cake

2009-12-29T23:43:00.005+01:00

So the bold bakery assumptions I made in my last post were way off the mark.

We did have my son's party on Monday, however most of the kids were more interested in the irritating, flashing, noisy rip-off games machines than our nice game of bowling ... so Birthday Boy got in a strop ... and there was nowhere to put paper plates anyway ... so I decided to take our trophy home-made birthday cake home and have it there.

After a quick lunch the 10 of us got into the cars just after 1pm and thought, "funny, it's snowing, that wasn't forecast". The traffic was unusually heavy in Reading, so I rang all the parents to say we'd be home later than 2pm, they'd better collect at 3pm. At nearly 3pm we'd hardly moved, so I asked my sister-in-law to ring again and let them know we'd be even later and we'd call when we got home.

As we crawled s-l-o-w-l-y through the city, the snow was getting heavier and my tyres started slipping, even on the flat. I was getting nervous and the boys were getting noisy. In the end it took 6 hours to get home (a journey that usually takes 30 minutes). Trucks were slipping and sliding all over the place, roads were gridlocked as snow turned to ice, roads were blocked and cars got stuck. It got dark. People were leaving their vehicles and walking home or back to work - I heard later about people sleeping in shops, getting home at 4am, and worse.

I couldn't figure out if Big G's car was ahead of us or behind and we kept losing our phone signals, so we were both pretty much alone ... for hour after miserable hour ... with 4 hungry, thirsty, wriggly, restless 8-year olds each. Eventually we slowly slipped and skidded our way into town, found each other again, abandoned the cars and walked the last mile. We got chips on the way. My brother met us with a sledge and took some of the boys home and one by one we dropped off our tired little adventurers, to the immense relief of their parents.

And what, you may wonder, became of the cake? No candles, no plates, no singing this year. We all just grabbed a big, snow-sprinkled, home-made, ludicrously over-iced wedge each as we abandoned our cars and started the long walk home ... and gosh did it taste good.

Cake

2009-12-19T23:50:00.002+01:00

Stupid Facebook won't upload my photo of a cake from my mobile phone. What is the world coming to? Today I broke one golden rule of parenting: "Don't home bake birthday cakes when supermarkets exist". I baked, against my better judgement, and then I decorated my cake with icing, chocolate sprinkles, shop-bought icing animals and candles. The result looks like something a 12-year old might have produced in their cookery class, but hey, I made it and I'm proud of it, and my son will blow on it and we'll all sing at the bowling alley in between games.

Hoorah!

Quote of the Day

2009-12-17T20:07:00.001+01:00

"Can monkeys have pets? Because we can, and we were monkeys once".

Mail for Julia

2009-12-09T19:30:00.004+01:00

We went to the USA for Thanksgiving a couple of weeks ago, and on the plane I watched 'Julie and Julia'. Based on movie reviews that I hadn't properly read but just glanced over, I had been under the impression that the film was about cooking ... so what a delight to discover that the film was actually about blogging! Well okay it was about lots of wonderful things, and I loved it. So I got talking to Big G about it and discovered that his Dad used to deliver the mail to Julia Child when he was a mailman and she lived in Boston. Apparently she was a very nice lady.

Lettuce Spend a Lot

2009-11-04T00:24:00.006+01:00

Today I was in London going to tedious meetings with a colleague. We were in South Kensington around lunchtime, so he suggested we go to the cafe in the Natural History Museum for a bite to eat. Genius, I thought, how delightful. Little did I know how EXPENSIVE it is there!!! £2.50 for a few leaves of lettuce with fancy dressing. Seriously, a few leaves of lettuce, no tomatoes, no rocket, no nothing except a few leaves of lettuce. £2.50. And as I was too hungry for lettuce on its own, I also ordered a very small scoop of potato salad which cost £4.50.

But, despite being on a tight budget at the moment, I didn't really mind the outrageous prices because (a) it was unspeakably delicious, (b) I was really happy to be in South Kensington, (c) entry is free to the museum so I guess they have to make their money somewhere, and (d) They give free tap water on the tables so at least you don't have to buy drinks.

Crablike

2009-11-01T23:54:00.003+01:00

I've been having a marine crustacean moment. Actually, more of a month than a moment. We've moved from one rental house to another, because the house we were living in was sold. So ... after a huge amount of upheaval, effort, inconvenience and expense, we have moved ... sideways.

Crabs are very active, with complex behaviour patterns. That's me alright. Crabs have five pairs of legs, and I've been scurrying around enough lately to employ all of them. Crabs have a hard shell, and I am sad to say I've been showing my beloved (bickering) children less of my funny, cuddly, patient mummy side and more of my brisk, barky, frowny mummy side that scuttles out in front, bellowing, whenever I'm stressed.

So here I find myself blogging again. So much has happened lately that I could have - should have - written on my blog. I wish I had. Blogging was wonderful therapy for me once upon a time. I find myself in a new place for blogging, using the same computer, the same table, with a different view, drinking the same kind of wine as before. I'm the same person, with really nothing substantial to moan about, just a bit mentally bruised, physically tired and emotionally unsettled, that's all. Holy crab, I really bloody hate moving house.

Teacher Blushes - With Good Reason

2009-09-03T00:28:00.005+02:00

The children were back at school today. In the morning, the year 6 teacher raised her eyebrows in my direction and waved her head around until she caught my eye. She smiled and we waved to each other. Later in the afternoon she intercepted me in the playground, blushed, and fluttered her hands to her cheeks in an embarrassed sort of way. "I'm SO sorry we're making you homeless!!" she laughed, nervously.

You see, the house we've been renting for almost 2 years has been sold to one of the teachers at our school, so we've been give notice to leave. We're house-hunting again. We wouldn't mind moving if we were going to our own place at last, but alas we won't be buying again until next spring so we've got to move into another rental which seems like an awful lot of hassle and expense for no gain.

Admittedly it's a bit pants, but on the other hand it's not the end of the world, and it might turn out for the best, eh?

Nowhere Near Nod

2009-08-07T03:00:00.005+02:00

I've been despicably absent from my darling blog lately. I spent so long fussing over it, like a new mother, when I set it up (hmmm ... shall I choose this shade of orange ... or this slightly darker one ...) and then promptly neglected it for weeks.

Tonight, in the dark rainy small hours, my occasional new-found enemy, insomnia, has struck again. I think my head's too full of thoughts jangling around, keeping me awake. Or maybe I over-did it on the caffeine today. Or perhaps it's because I'm pining for my little ones, who have gone for a sleepover with their cousins but apparently cried for me at bedtime (sniff) which took everyone by surprise. I don't like it when their beds are empty - it feels all wrong.

So, instead of sleeping, I've been catching up with the latest news from some of my favourite bloggers. I feel slightly less bad when I see that loads of people haven't posted for a while ... and then I wonder why, and whether they're okay. It's not like I can phone them to check, either. Even the mighty Wife in the North (who inspired me to blog in the first place) hasn't posted since May.

So. I think it's time for some chamomile tea and another attempt at drifting off to the land of nod. Wish me luck ;-/

Slow Dance

2009-07-02T20:06:00.004+02:00

Lolly: "Did you know ... SLOW backwards is WOLS."

Biker: "What?"

Lolly: "A WOLS."

Biker: "What's a WOLS?"

Lolly: "It's a kind of dance."

I've Been a Bit Busy

2009-06-24T00:09:00.006+02:00

We got back from our long weekend away, '12 go mad in Rutland', at around 4pm yesterday.

Today I got up early to write a short newspaper piece, over strong coffee, and sent it off for approval. Then I got the kids' breakfast, made their packed lunches and some lunch for myself, ate, showered, straightened my hair and found something to wear that didn't need ironing. I checked the weather, applied suncream to two wriggly skins, comforted two tired faces who wanted to still be on holiday, wet down sticky-up boy hair and found book-bags and scooters. Then we all said goodbye to Big G (who was going to the USA today) and drove to school.

After drop-off, I slapped on a little eye-make-up in the rear-view mirror, took the car in for its MOT and service, got a courtesy car which I drove for a couple of miles with the handbrake on, and then worked at the office for 5 hours. After work I made an optician's appointment, got some cash out, bought 4 new headbands to replace Lolly's 4 snapped ones, tried not to get caught on camera as David Hasslehoff was being filmed in the marketplace - bizarre - then I went to the petrol station and drove home.

The Sainsbury's delivery man was waiting outside as I got home at 3:59pm, so I chucked out some old food that was past its sell-by date and re-filled the fridge and cupboards with fresh. I then replied to an email about Beavers and Cubs, arranged some stuff for later in the week, found Biker's drumsticks and music for tomorrow, printed off Friday's school newsletter, texted a friend for a while and loaded the first out of around 2,000 loads of laundry that need doing. It's bin day tomorrow, so I sorted, stuffed and wheeled them on to the street. I then did lots of tidying up, unloaded the dishwasher, re-loaded it, unpacked the rest of the weekend bags, moved the dolls house that was blocking the hallway, and cooked myself a dinner of tofu, green beans, mushrooms and noodles in black bean sauce.

I talked to the garage, who said I can pick up the car tomorrow morning - it passed its MOT so phew, I can drive legally again. More laundry, and a Peppermint tea. My Dad arrived then with the children, so we chatted for a while. After he left, I took the kids for 2 quick spins around the block in the thrilling courtesy car - each having a turn in front of course - got back and ran them a bath. After much wet soapy hilarity over their imaginary babies, they finally got into pyjamas and sat down to watch a little TV with some fruit and biscuits.

Bedtime for the small noisy people - milk, teeth, toilet, books, chat - and then I put some clean clothes away. I emailed the holiday house to ask the woman to post back something we left there, watched the News, laid out tomorrow's school uniform, made tomorrow's packed lunches, cleaned out the hamster cage, swept up the sawdust and and let Fluffy run about in her ball for a while.

It's no wonder I never get anything done.

I Wonder if She's Asleep Yet

2009-06-18T23:01:00.006+02:00

This girl Lolly, who is 9, went on her first overnight school trip today. The class of 26 went to an activity centre where they'll try kayaks, sailing, climbing, team games, and showering en masse.

Miss Sunshine Sporty Teacher led her bag-pulling flock down the school hill to the coach, and Mr. Long-haired Groooovy Head Teacher was due to pop in tonight with his guitar, for some round-the-bonfire singing time. We were told to pack hundreds of sets of clothes, due to the inevitable dunkings in the River Thames, but only one teddy bear each. Lolly took her biggest bear, a change of bear-clothes, a bear-sleeping bag and a bear-blanket. That's my girl.

The kids looked so proud (and some a bit wobbly) as their little faces grinned down from the coach windows. We parents felt so proud (and some a bit wobbly) as we waved them off.

It seems strange that Lolly's not here tonight. Biker, who is 7, is sleeping in his sister's bed. I wonder if she's asleep yet - I really hope she wasn't homesick.

Delayed Reaction

2009-06-18T03:12:00.005+02:00

The last time we saw two of our oldest and best friends, let's call them Y & Z, was new year's eve. Okay there were a few tiffs, and clearly some tensions under the surface, but they put on their brave faces and we had a lovely night of laughing, dancing and having fun.

By the time they got home - 4 hours away, on new year's day - they had let rip into one enormous fight too many, and Z declared they were officially "separated". Things went from bad to way worse over the next few weeks, as years of poisonous resentments, heart-ripping betrayals and basic incompatability bubbled over to form a muddy slope that led straight down into a full-on battleground. Emotional fists and swords were wielded with rage - blood ran hot, wounds were deep.

Now, almost 6 months later, they are living apart. Their children spend roughly half the week with each, and divorce papers have been filed. Things are calmer, slightly less angry, and they are trying to re-build their lives.

For many reasons - a bewildering brew of circumstances, blame and loyalty - we have only been talking to Y. Soon we're going away with him, his children and another family. 3 nights in a cottage in the country, it promises to be great fun and I really can't wait. The trouble is, it's the first time we'll have seen them together without Z, and I'm going to miss her terribly. Most people say "good riddance", but I liked her and considered her a friend. I didn't see this coming, but tonight I've been really sad - like I've been watching what's been going on from a distance, and the loss of them to us as a family is only just sinking in.

Hence the insomnia, and a 3am post.
I'll try to go back to sleep now.

The Wonderful World of Worms

2009-06-11T21:33:00.003+02:00

On Saturday morning, Tom and Olivia awoke to the grisly news that there was a power cut, so the TV and computer were off. Mummy quietly hid their Nintendo DS’s on top of the wardrobe, and watched with amusement as panic took hold of her children. “There’s nothing to doooo”, wailed Tom. “I’m so boooored”, whined Olivia.

For the next hour, Tom and Olivia refused to read, draw, play or stop squabbling. Mummy decided that one hour of torture was enough for her, and pushed them outside into the garden. They sulked in silence for a while, with hands in pockets and moods like thunder.

They wandered down the garden to the shed behind the willow tree. Out came rusty scooters, too-small bikes and a yellow sit-on tractor from the toddler years. “Clear the path, let’s race!” yelled Tom. Next they hunted for buckets brought home from the beach last summer, rinsed the mud off with the outside tap, and sorted them into castle-shaped and plain. The children found beach spades too, and filled the buckets with stones and dead ferns, mushy from April showers. “I’m cooking robber food!” announced Olivia.

Mummy put on her coat and brought biscuits and hot chocolate, made with cold milk as the kettle didn’t work. She then darted back in the house to tell her sister on the phone all about the miracle that was unfolding outside: “The children are playing nicely”, she gasped, “in the garden!” Re-fuelled, the children set off on a bug-hunt. They found snails, earwigs and woodlice that hide under plant pots. They scooped them up gently and put them in their “zoo” – a cardboard box lined with earth and leaves to hide under.

Then they remembered worms. Oh joy, worms, juicy wriggly creatures that you have to dig for. Fat, thin, long, short, fast, curly or tiny, the garden’s unfortunate worm population kept Tom and Olivia entertained all the way to lunchtime. After lunch, Mummy found a brand new nature book from the Christmas before last, and the three of them matched leaves in the garden with leaves in the pictures. They looked for Britain’s most common birds too, but didn’t find any.

On Sunday morning, the power cut was over. The computer and TV spluttered, un-noticed, back to life. Tom and Olivia, who had slept late after all the fresh air the day before, scrambled into their Wellington boots. “We’re going to make a den outside!” they shrieked, and disappeared. Mummy put the kettle on and left the Nintendo DS’s where they belonged – on top of the wardrobe.

Turning 40

2009-06-10T21:44:00.002+02:00

The new arrivals at the "Middle Age Club" wander in and settle down. It slowly dawns on them that the only way out is through the door labelled "Old Age Club". How the hell did I get here, they ask, can I go back? What am I supposed to do now?

Name Game

2009-06-09T23:28:00.013+02:00

When I was ummming and ahhhing, trying to think up a clever name for my new publishing business, I contemplated the name "Rose Tinted Publishing" for a while.

I rather like it. It conjures up visions of a clever person in spectacles, and delightfully English rose gardens, darling. And, like a rose, I think of myself as a bit of a late bloomer in life; at 41, I'm still wondering what I'm going to do when I grow up.

So, wanting to get some feedback on my new name, I texted the most instantly judgemental and outspoken person I know, to ask what she thought of Rose Tinted Publishing. "Fabulous" she blurted - if it's possible to blurt via text - "but doesn't it have negative connotations of delusion?"

So with a sorry heart I scrapped that lovely name and now I'm in the market for another idea. Meanwhile, my new publishing venture is making slow but steady progress. I'm scared of making a mess of it, but giddy with excitement! I have a new notepad, a new fine-tipped pen, and no delusions whatsoever.