ps. Whilst I was Lily Savage, Hubby was a less hirsute and more aggressive version of Hugh Fearnly-Whittingstall (which may explain why we never seem to look that good in photos). He has been pelting round the kitchen like a flesh-coloured bullet, waving bits of puff pastry and getting huffy about not being able to find the tamarind paste. Suppertimes have been filled with tasty vegetarian things that the kids have loyally said were 'kind of in-betweeny' (which is high praise indeed, because if I offer anything other than hot dogs these days they say that it's yukky and the school dinners are much better), served with a kind of manic zeal and an angry tut if anyone asks for extra seasoning. Anyway, I'm not longer Lily, and it seems he's no longer bald Hugh, because tonight we had Tesco Value lasagne (how I love baking trays you can just throw away afterwards and not have to wash up - come to think of it, maybe there is a little bit of Lily Savage left in me!)

My son is keeping a chart on his new pinboard that follows my perceived emotional well being. He says I'm a fifteen at the moment. When I asked him if that was good or bad, he said that it's better than zero. He said that if I get famous and publish a book it might go up, but if I get all shouty it will go down (apparently there is the potential to get down as low as minus one hundred and something). I'll let you know what my score is next time, but I'm guessing it will depend if he fills it in on a Sunday (room tidying and rat cage cleaning day) or not...
What else has been happening? Erm...I'm now a redhead. I think the Lily Savage look had been done to death, to be honest, so I got a Groupon voucher for a cut and colour somewhere that I thought was nearby. I went by the postcode, because my geography of Nottingham is a bit sketchy beyond the school and the big Tescos, and I thought that it ought to be somewhere around here - turns out it was over the other end of town and took half an hour to get there. The hairdresser took one look at my peroxide and roots combo and, rolling his eyes, said that it would take an hour and a half longer and cost an additional twenty quid. So I spent the morning reading many magazines and also many F Scott Fitzgerald stories (luckily I came prepared with my Kindle) and having many cups of lukewarm instant coffee. It does look better, I suppose. So that filled up most of the day today. The rest of the time since I last blogged I've been busy with the dissertation. Well, that and sports day (which took up the whole of Monday) and having cups of coffee in Costa and wondering vacantly which earrings to wear tomorrow night. Oh, yes, I haven't told you about tomorrow night, have I? So the urgency of getting my hair done today (and not kicking up a fuss at having to pay twenty quid in cash on top of the Groupon voucher, etc.) is that Hubby and I are going to a posh dinner thing on HMS Victory tomorrow night with all the people he was in Afghanistan with. And I couldn't possibly go with bad transvestite hair - although I do seem to have bad transvestite nails (which maybe serves me right for trying to do my nails and watch the football with two rats scuttling about on the sofa).
Right then, there's probably loads more I could tell you about, but I need to take my red hair, blue nails and fake-tanned face upstairs and get some beauty sleep in readiness for a night of listening to Afghanistan anecdotes. Night! xxx

ps. I'm not going to become a dinner lady. I have withdrawn my application because Hubby said, "I don't want you coming home smelling of gravy every night.". So that's my career as a 'lunchtime supervisor' over before it even began. I'll just have to become a famous novelist instead, then...

Footie's on, so I've got nobody to talk to except you...actually I'm going to watch it in a bit, if I can persuade my husband to crack open the whisky or something.

Since I last blogged my son has managed to turn into something of a local radio star and I've managed not to turn into the elephant woman. Last week Gem 106 (our local station) visited the kids' school during lunch hour to serve lunch and interview the kids, which was wildly exciting (would have been even more exciting if I'd got the dinner lady job, but more of that later) at the time but totally thrilling during 'Sam & Amy's breakfast show' the following morning when 'Amy' played her interview with Son. It went something like this:

Amy: Hello, do you like football?
Son: No, I prefer maths, actually.
Her: Wow, what do you like about maths?
Him: Well, it give me a feeling like solid metal bars when I think about it.
Her: Okay...what else do you like?
Him: I like moles.
Her: Er...why?
Him: Because I imagine that they have a whole network of tunnels extending underneath the planet's surface, and....(here he continued at some length).
Her: Brilliant! Can I take you home with me, please?

Well, no, Amy from Gem 106, you can't, because he's mine (I may have to fight her in the toilets). Not only was I feeling insecure in my motherhood that day, with concerns that minor local celebrities were about to abduct my son, I was also feeling generally worried as I had woken up that morning with a face all red and puffed up. I made an emergency appointment at the doctors for some medical advice, which consisted of a shrug and a suggestion to go to the pharmacy and buy some antihistamines, after which she said, oooh, wasn't your son a star on the radio this morning? Can I adopt him, please? (actually I lied about the last bit, but it wouldn't have surprised me if she had said that, given his current celebrity status).

Anyway, luckily my face got less puffy over the weekend, and no random stranger has snatched my son and sold their story to Heat magazine. So that's alright then.
Right, better go and watch the footie. Night then xxx

Hello, how are you? Major Bumsaw has morphed into a domestic god (which is a slightly geekier version of a domestic goddess - think lovechild of Nigella and the bloke off the gadget show), which means we had healthy mushroom stew for supper and we get to watch a new 3-D television. Fantastic. It's a bit like having Meena and Mani back, but all in one person, and without the odd language and cultural differences (he didn't feel the need to tell me that the children will get diarhroea  -oops sorry, still can't spell it - if they go around with bare feet, for example) . And the really good news is that the army still hasn't given him a job to go to, so I've got my splendiferous housekeeper indefinitely...well, apart from on Friday when he's off to get drunk with his mate (so we'll have to have a McDonald's that night).
Today I started writing my dissertation. By 'writing' I of course mean staring into space, having lots of cups of tea, and worrying that I'm really not up to the task. Luckily my new domestic god doubles up as a dissertation mentor, and gave me some top plot tips (in between chopping mushrooms and tuning in the new telly). I hope the army don't want him back too soon xxx

Hi, how are you? Today is my husband's birthday. He is forty-six. I know this because three children came into the bedroom at around seven this morning chanting, "Forty-six, forty-six, forty-six!". This means it's a whole thirty years since he first went into the army recruiting office and asked to join up. (They sent him away then, because he was two pounds underweight, so he couldn't actually join until a whole year later. )Today is a grey and rainy day in Nottingham, so we have been spending his birthday at home, playing on the Wii and eating birthday cake.
So how has your half term been so far? We had great plans to go camping...until we saw the weather forecast. Luckily most of the other kids in the street have also been at home, or rather, at our home. I'm never quite sure which small child I will find where, and we're going through the multipack crisps at quite a rate, I can tell you. Apart from today, wierdly. I haven't found a random neighbour's child anywhere today. I'm not sure if it's because they have a sixth sense about the fact that Hubby is forty-six, forty-six, forty-six, or because they know there are only cheese and onion crisps left.
I keep looking out of the window hopefully. If the sun comes out then I'm going for a run, but if it doesn't then I'm having another piece of birthday cake...looks like it's more cake then. Hope the sun is shining where you are xxxx

sorry, sorry, sorry! I am still here, I've just been a bit, erm, distracted this past week or so...I will write more soon I promise xxx