Showing posts from February, 2010

In Pursuit of Excellence

Today I made a decision. I decided that I can no longer watch Jacob, aged just 11, play tennis anymore. It breaks my heart really that I will be unable to be there with him but the stress of watching him play is becoming too much. This morning whilst we were travelling to a tournament my left arm was actually aching and... well it's not a nice feeling that you might be going to have a heart attack.

It's surprising really. I've been in far more stressful situations, so maybe it's also age, weight, several years of underlying stress all rolled up into one. But I guess there's nothing more traumatic than watching your own child under duress. I've been building up to this for sometime; it's upsetting whenever your child loses but I guess, underneath, I'm even more disappointed at the approach of Lawn Tennis Association.

Tennis in this country is the remit of the wealthy or those with tennis connections, there isn't any room for grass roots players on a li…

Nightmare on Turley Street

I'm back! Last week was half term so I was tied up as usual. (Those boys can be really brutal.) Anyway, they were due back to school on Monday, so naturally, when the big day arrived I threw back the curtains with an enthusiasm only matched by the discovery of a hidden KitKat in the pantry. However, my delight soon turned to horror at what I saw before me. What did I see? Nope, it wasn't the cat relieving itself on my neighbours plants. (Which is actually quite an appealing scenario.)

It was snow.

Yeah, snow. Again.

Can I just say something?

Please, pleaseGod no more snow!Look, I know I've been a naughty girl but please don't punish me with anymore snow! I promise to be a good girl from now on and to be really, really careful when reversing. I will also try to curb my swearing, and I will try my very, very best not to dribble when I see pictures of Andy Roddick.
Anyway folks, I saw snow all over the street so thought it was possible the children would have yet another da…

A Formal Complaint about.... Socks

Folks, you know I'm a good natured woman, who hardly ever says anything out of turn or drops a verbal clanger, so I hope you won't mind if today if I use a word that you rarely hear uttered out of my sweet lips because I want to talk aboutsocks. Yes, socks.
Look, what is it with these little f*****s ?

Where do they go? I swear to God they have a mind of their own! One minute I have a nice pair of cosy socks to keep my tootsies warm and the next minute they've disappeared into oblivion! Yep, I can search under the beds, in the linen baskets and drawers, in every nook and cranny are the little f*****s cannot be found anywhere! I am always, always, left with a huge pile of odd socks. It is soooooo unfair.
Strangely enough, it's not even just the old socks that go missing. I can buy a brand new pack, heave a huge sigh of relief that I've got socks for at least the next 3 days, but by the time of the next spin cycle I can guarantee that at least one sock has vanished.