Monday 29 April 2013

Just realised that I only seem to write this when I'm starving hungry these days. So, yes, it is a fast day and I am starving hungry, even more so today because I did my first session of the 'Insanity' workout at the gym earlier on (it's a 60-day intensive fitness programme, and today was day 1). So it may well be a bacon buttie for breakfast tomorrow.
What else? We took the kids sailing on Friday evening. Or, rather, we took them to the sailing club and a really nice instructor took them out in a dinghy whilst Hubby and I sat in the clubhouse and had tea and chocolate biscuits. It was pretty enjoyable, until Twin 2 turned up in tears because she'd been let off the boat to go to the loo and had got lost and fallen down some steps. Luckily she bounces well. I think it's going to become a regular Friday night thing (the sailing, but hopefully not the falling down steps). We only had Hubby here for one night as he had to go back to London to see his friend off at Heathrow, but no matter, because the rest of us were invited over to a BBQ at someone's house on Sunday. Yes, brrr, I wore my very thick jumper just in case, but luckily only the actual BBQ-ing took place outside; I spent most of the afternoon sat on my bum indoors, eating, whilst children ran about playing hide & seek, so we barely missed Hubby at all. Twin 2 told everyone that she'd got engaged to Harry Styles (from One Direction  - not sure about spelling?) and that because he'd kissed her and given her a ring, they had to get married straight away. Not sure if the delusion has anything to do with falling down at the sailing club and delayed concussion, but maybe someone should warn Harry...Right, I think I need to find some diet Coke or sugar-free gum or something, just a pretence of calorific intake will do. And then I'm going to have a really long think about my perfect breakfast. Bye xxx

Thursday 25 April 2013

I'm fantasizing about breakfast. If I get up as soon as my alarm goes off, then it's only 8 hours - and if I get up that early, I might even have time for something exciting like fried eggs. Or, if I stay awake for another hour and a half, then technically it will be tomorrow already, and I could just raid the fridge. Yes, I'm on another 'fast' day... other than not eating, what else has been going on? Hmmm, no dead pets so far this week, so that's good. We got a very nice consolation card from the vet reassuring us that we absolutely did what was best for the undead (no longer) dog and the rat with kidney failure. Ah, I shall almost miss my monthly visits there with sick animals (almost).
Today I have been mostly teaching the present perfect and introducing the present perfect continuous and hoping nobody asks me when you use one instead of the other (because I didn't get as far as reading that page when I was lesson planning). Of course someone did ask, so I just said the difference was very subtle and not to worry about it too much at this stage. Really, I should be a politician, my fudging skills are wasted in the classroom (and I'd probably make a better MP than ESOL teacher - I bet nobody ever asks Harriet Harman difficult grammar questions).
In between teaching grammar reluctantly (Monday & Weds) I have been trying to write the novel. I went to a cafe yesterday to write a scene where my poor heroine goes back to the place it all began. The problem was it's all a bit upsetting (for her, and also for me as I write it), felt a bit tearful, which is slightly embarrassing in the cafe-next-to-Lidl on a Tuesday afternoon, to come over all unnecessary. Anyway, my heroine only got as far as the pub, she's using delaying tactics, and who can blame her? Facing the past will be painful, poor lamb. I will have to get straight down to it tomorrow, and finally get her the closure she needs. But not until I've had fried egg on toast, and possibly the remains of the birthday cakes...(oh, I forgot to say, it was the Twins' birthday at the weekend. They managed to have the longest ever birthday party; it lasted a full twenty three hours. Okay, they only invited two friends, but still. Next year I might suggest something other than a sleepover, that possibly doesn't involve hearing various children shouting/crying on the trampoline and spending all of Sunday afternoon tidying up. I'm thinking cinema or show - something quiet and dark that only lasts two hours tops).
Right, well, the quicker I sleep, the sooner it'll be fried egg time.
Goodnight! xxxx

Friday 19 April 2013

ps. I was just having a look to see who (if anyone reads this). Of course some people find their way here by a google search, and one poor woman was directed to this blog by putting this in her search engine (I'm not sure she will have found the answer to her query anywhere here, but I like to think I might have been some small comfort...) : "ocado blinis child throw up" 

It's been an eventful week. One of the rats ended up in the rodent version of intensive care on Wednesday. She was looking very poorly so we took her to the vet, who suggested overnight hospitalisation. Then it was the inevitable roller-coaster ride of emotion: would she make it through the night? (yes!) Would she recover fully from whatever was wrong with her by after school time? (no!) Would she be so ill that, despite expensive medical intervention we would still have to give her the lethal injection? (yes!) Would we have been better leaving her in her cage to die quietly (and cheaply) overnight? (quite probably).
So now Rattus Rattus (for that was her name) is buried in a cardboard coffin near the flowering something-or-other (gardening not my strong point), surrounded by some Everyday Value fruit 'n' nut mix to see her on her journey to the afterlife. I have also placed a large potted rose bush over the top of the grave, just so Son doesn't wake up to the aftermath of some frenzied grave-digging fox's carrion feast one morning.
Luckily the vet took pity on us and only charged half price on the rodent intensive care/euthenasia combo (a cynical person might think that this is because he'd already made a fortune on us out of undead Dog's longevity), but I'm still too embarrassed to 'fess up to you how much it actually was.
I think we should just stick to Barbie dolls and imaginary friends in this family as we are clearly not to be trusted with anything with a heart beat.
Cheerio xx

Monday 15 April 2013

Hello, how are you? I'm hungry, and jittery and full of nervous energy. This is due to me having just started the 'fast' diet. Hubby says I mustn't think of it as a 'diet' but as a new regime, so this is a 'regime change' (there certainly are some violent rumblings, so he may be right). In case you haven't heard of it, the diet - ahem, regime - involves eating normally for five days of the week, but severely restricting your calorie intake on the other two. So today I've had four apples, a couple of slices of ham and oh, about a million cups of coffee - which probably explains the jitteryness. Anyway, the good thing is that because I'm having to use diversionary tactics to stop me thinking about a nice plate of tacos smothered in sour cream and salsa ....mmmm, yummy (no, no, stop that!)...I'm being quite productive (although of course not quite so productive that I've done the downstairs bathroom yet) and I've done all the washing and the washing up and the meter reading and booked the car in for an MOT and all my lesson planning and washed my hair and it's still hours until bedtime and even more hours until breakfast time (I probably will end up cleaning the downstairs bathroom, although there's a reasonable chance I'll end up eating toilet roll smothered in cleaning products and pretending it's tacos smothered in sour cream and salsa...mmm, yummy....no, no, NO!)
I was listening to something on the radio about self-publishing this morning on the way back from my lovely ESOL class, and it reminded me of a conversation I had with my sister-in-law the other week about my book (of which I haven't written a word since before the Easter hols). I was talking about how I'm a bit addicted to writing now, and no longer really care whether or not my manuscript gets picked up by an agent. She said: "Well, I suppose when you create something, it's like a gift that you're giving...but how do you know if it's a gift people want to receive?" Indeed. I now have an image of my magnum opus as an unwanted jar of bath salts, or perhaps a foot spa, with the gift tags still attached. Think I need to do some neuro-linguistic programming on myself and see it instead as a gift people do want to receive (George Clooney smothered in sour cream and salsa, anyone?).
TTFN xxxx


Monday 8 April 2013

Help! I'm stuck in the silver-haired NIMBY ghetto with no way out!

Yep, I've taken the kids to Devon to see the parents.

I know, but I came prepared (or so I thought) by bringing my teeth-bleaching kit. Because in the evenings, if I have my bleaching mouthguard in, then I can't get sucked into late night 'discusssions' over a glass of red about wind farms/solar panels/the legality of the Iraq war, etc. Or so I thought. What I failed to factor in was that there would be a huge power cut shortly after we arrived, so in a bid to stay warm and keep the kids entertained, I took Dad up on his offer to take us with him on his trip to Mole Valley Farmers (first mistake: we should all have just stayed behind in the cold house with no TV). It's about a twenty minute drive. I asked Dad about his voluntary work, because he kept mentioning how very busy he was. That was my second mistake, because of course he's really busy campaigning against wind farms. However, I looked out of the window and pretended I already had my mouthguard in so as not to make any NIMBY accusations and get drawn into a pointless argument. Then, to fill the silence, he gestured out of the window at a solar farm in the distance and started to talk about the ruination of the Devon countryside. That's when I made mistake number three:
Him: Look at that! Ruining the Devon countryside, and there's fields more over there!
Me: We really can't talk about this because I think our opinions may differ on this one. Let's find something else to talk about.
Him: Well, you say opinion, but I say fact; it's a fact that...
Me: No, we really can't discuss this, because I don't want to fall out with you.
Him: Well, let's just see what your opinion is in ten years time when...
Me: We can't discuss this, Dad, really.
Him: But have you considered that...
Me: I mean it. If you carry on talking about this, I will go mental and we will fall out. We have to talk about something else.

Silence for a bit. Me fuming.

Him (in a voice that suggests I'm all hormonal and irrational): Well, I suppose I'd better be quiet until we get to the main road then.

I know. I know I should just have kept quiet and let him rant on about wind and solar power being a blot on the landscape. What to do? Wear a mouthguard during the day as well?

I'm having an early night tonight. And I'm off to visit my sister first thing tomorrow, before my father has a chance to start up any more interesting 'discussions', but in the meantime, if anyone reading this happens to be anywhere in the South Hams, please come and rescue me!

Friday 5 April 2013

Hiya, I know, I've been a bit absent. I've been down in Ye Olde London Town with the family and the Undead Dog. We did the British Museum and the Maritime Museum (with the added bonus of seeing my favourite 'Horrible Histories' actor in the cafe - never has naval history been quite so exciting), as well as Camden market, where we all made a point of buying something, just so that if anyone asked us where we got that earring/handbag/pocket watch/hairslide we could say "Oh, this? I just picked it up in Camden market" (all apart from Hubby, who works nearby and wasn't quite as city-struck as the rest of us). Had a lovely lunch at a Japanese restaurant in Camden, too, which made me have fond nostalgic thoughts of Cafe U in Kathmandu. Also did  a pink zone/blue zone thing: girls and I did the museum of childhood whilst the boys did London Dungeon. And we also managed to fit in a shopping trip and a day trip to Weymouth to see the in-laws. So, it was busy, and now we're back home again (and skint). Tomorrow we're taking Undead Dog for his final visit to the vet. Today we had a roast chicken, so that Dog could have his last supper of chicken skin and gravy (his favourite). I have banned discussion of puppies called Richard Hammond and shall not be wearing mascara tomorrow...