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Showing posts from July, 2010

One Last Time

This afternoon at approximately 4 pm, when I open my front door, it will be over.

14 years, 3 children, several prams, a lot of footsteps, even more car miles and one worn out mother.

There's been times when I've gone out with my slippers on, driven into cars at the foot of my driveway, felt sick, and wanted to weep with the death of my parents. Sometimes I did weep.

There's been times when I've had to turn around because I'd forgotten lunches, swimming costumes, medicines and PE kits.

There's been acquaintances made and lost and friendships that have stood the test of time. Together we've experienced disappointments and frustrations, births and deaths, tears and laughter.

There's been wet days, rainy days and windy days. Days when I've skidded on ice, got stuck in the snow and days where I was so tired with my insomnia I pumped myself with caffeine and sugar just to get the kids there on time.

But today, at last, the school run is finally over.

The…

This Book is Brillant by Jane Turley

What are the universally hated professions? These days it appears it is bankers, (sorry Mr Intrepid!) closely followed by builders (Sorry Gary!) and naturally - the estate agent. (Anybody an estate agent out there? No?  Phew, I can at least rant about them without feeling too guilty...)

Oh, in my experience, solicitors are a bit of a pain in the arse as well. Have you ever known a solicitor to actually contact you and say they've done something on time? NO! They always wait for you to ring them and ask what's happening and invariably the work has never been done. They're always missing a mysterious piece of paper or waiting for the other person's solicitor to send them another piece of mysterious paper..... I tell you, if I ever move house again I will be standing outside my solicitors with a red hot poker. You know, theoretically, you can actually conduct a house sale in about 2 weeks - not in the UK you can't though - not with your solicitor picking his nose all …

Fairytale Kisses

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Having been somewhat busy lately, I haven't got around to writing many of my Music Monday posts. However, I thought I'd pop in briefly to play a couple of songs from the group Ben's Brother  of whom I'm growing increasingly fond. I'm currently listening to their albumBeta Male Fairytales. I'm not good at putting music into categories but I suppose it's what I would call a heavy pop sound whilst being a little more melodic than the norm. (Correct me if I wrong!)

The lead singer, Jamie Hartman, named the group after his brother in whose shadow he lived as a teenager; his brother was a top notch student and sportsman and went on to work successfully in advertising. Jamie is quoted as saying;

"I suppose I did live in his shadow....but I never hated him, which was fortunate because I could have ended up very bitter indeed. Our family has always been really close and also big on gallows humour." 

Jamie has a very interesting and pleasing voice. It has …

No Returns

I’d never stolen anything before. Honest. It was the first time.

I guess there’s a first time for everything.

A first time for living, and a first time for dying.

It slipped silently into my pocket. No one saw, no one ever does. Least of all him. I don’t exist as me. Just a useful puppet. A puppet with broken strings.

It’s lavender fragrance. “Calming” it says on the bottle. It swirls, blends with the steaming water. The deep purple essence dilutes to shades of lilac bindweed, warm, inviting.

My fleshy thighs fade to shapeless shadows. My breasts lie flat. No more womanly curves. Just an amorphous being who cooks, cleans, and draws clouds in the dust.

Water trickles down the overflow. I don’t suppose many people have a waterfall for a requiem.

The bottle sits on the shelf, carton discarded. The scent spirals upwards, weaving its way to freedom. If only I could escape my box so easily. Climb free, run wild. But I’m sealed with sellotape and tied with string.

The water creeps into my e…

The End is Nigh!

The day is coming. Yes, it is!

No, I'm not about to preach that the end of the world is approaching; I mean the day is getting nearer when I no longer have to do the school run.

Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!

Sound the trumpets, wave the flags and blow the horns. Notify the Queen! I will be a free woman at last!

(Well, from 8am to 4pm anyway.)

Yes, finally, after 14 years of the school run, my two younger sons will be catching the school bus from the end of our road and my eldest will (hopefully) be going off to university. Believe me, as this day draws closer you've never seen a happier woman than Mrs T - except perhaps Demi Moore when she hooked herself Ashton Kutcher. (That was before she realised the cost of the extra childcare.)

Okay, okay get out your exercise book Mrs T...

I am not jealous of Demi Moore
I am not jealous of Demi Moore
I am not jealous of Demi Moore
I am not jeal..........

Look, there is something to be said for having an older husband! Umm.. When I discover what it…