Showing posts from December, 2007

If only I could stick to New Year Resolutions...

One of my strange idiosyncrasies is that I'm very good at doing things for other people but absolutely rubbish at doing things for myself. Thus when I agree to do something for someone else I will invariably do it any cost but when it comes to doing something such as losing like weight, or actually having a beauty routine (I don’t) or keeping fit which would all be of great benefit to my health and decaying looks, I find it very difficult to maintain the impetus for much longer than 24 hours. I suspect I am not alone in this; the truth is many mothers are so wrapped up in the welfare of their children, their jobs and 101 other tasks that they often find themselves at the bottom of the pile. Then one day you realise you look weather-beaten and washed up and those last few years when you could have looked half decent have been lost in a multitude of nappies and dirty dishes. (That day is a bit of a bummer I can tell you so get your bottle of sherry in now and stash it at the back of…

You thought I disliked football? You haven't heard me rant about steam engines!

Just for starters here’s my review of the Thomas Tank Engine book A Cow on the Line by the Rev Awdry. Let’s introduce it with that lovely theme tune from the TV series. Here we go…

♫ ♫ De dededededederrrrrrrrrrrr…dedededededededededederrrrrrrrr…♫ ♫
Come on, get into the spirit now!

(Alternatively, put your ear muffs on.)

There, don’t you feel exhilarated. No? Why not? Perhaps it’s because that repetitive tune is enough to drive a woman who has seen every engine shed and pisston in the whole of England to sheer and utter madness. (Me, obviously) In fact when I hear it, I reach for my double barrelled shotgun in order to blow my brains out. Unfortunately, the kids keep holding me back:

“No, no, Mummy you must watch this bit. It’s so funny!"

Yeah, yeah…and Gordon Brown isn't Scottish.

The reasons I've selected A Cow on the Line to review from the many Thomas books are:

a) It doesn't have Thomas in the title and I'm sick of him.

b) It sounded like it could be marginally more a…

What Is It About Men And Balls?

Having returned from nearly 2 hours standing in the cold watching two of my boys play football in a Christmas kick around with some of the dads from the football club I am posing the question...


Yes, I know men do possess balls.(Although I'm not sure about Gordon Brown now that he's ratified that treaty without asking the consent of the electorate.) Maybe that's why men have an affinity with anything relatively circular in shape: footballs, snooker balls, beer glasses, women's bottoms (regrettably, this doesn't include mine as it's round shape has become somewhat elongated over the past decade) and of course... breasts.

Women know men are particularly stupid about round things and even the thickest women know that if they stuff their breasts with large amounts of silicone so their breasts have a taut and bulging roundness they will become instantly more desirable to the opposite sex. Personally, I think cotton wool is so much easier…

There comes a time when you have to explain The Circle of Life.

I'm normally a cheery type of gal but this evening I have the arduous task of telling the kids that Granny Turley died earlier today. Kids are so succinct too - no doubt they will some it up in some heart breaking sentence that will make it difficult to hold back the tears. This is not the first time I've had to do this. I prepared my eldest for my father's death some years ago by telling the truth to which he replied "You mean his heart will stop beating?" I've never forgotten his words, so succinct, so final. I've already told him today's news. He's now 16 and as a teenager he is absorbed in his own life so in a way it will be easier for him but later I must tell the younger ones who will take it much harder...their memories of Granny and wonderful times in her garden will still be fragrant and fresh.

You know, I think it is very important never to underestimate the grief of small children. I always remember the total devastation I felt when my …

Decisions, decisions.

Yes, it can be very tough when your husband works long hours knowing when to make a decision and deciding whether or not if you've made the right one. Now when you've had your first baby this usually revolves around "Shall I call the doctor or not?" or "Shall I give one spoon of Calpol or two?" Fortunately, when you get to my advanced age and the three kids are out of their nappies (Thank God) it usually revolves around whether or not to have one glass of wine or two. (Sometimes more - depending on just how annoying those kids have been.)

Of course, an even more tantalising decision is whether or not to have chocolate with fruit and nuts in it or just stick to plain Galaxy. Personally, I'm not too fussed either way because, as all us gals know, chocolate can be a lot more satisfying than sex - and you get to roll it around your mouth without choking.

So as an insomniac of the highest degree I took the decision in the early hours this morning to create my …