hello you! Sorry, it's been a while. Lots of stuff going on. I'm only going to be an army wife for another couple of weeks. He's off to sample the dubious delights of civvie street. Which will mean my seventeen odd years as a trailing miIitary spouse will come to an end as well. Just when I'd finally got used to it, too! However, I'm planning to continue this blog a teensy bit longer. l began it in November 2007 so l think I'll finish in November 2014, just so l can go to my final wives Xmas party in the sergeants' mess and tell you all the thrilling details about that before signing off for good.
Hubby has just grumpily reminded me that l shoud be making the tea, so l guess I'd better go xx

"Don't worry, Mummy, Daddy can shout at us instead."

I've got a tiny spot of time to write. Update on last Tuesday's drama: I also got caught on a speeding camera, zooming back from the boatyard to my dental appointment, I discovered when the police notice landed on the doormat today. Although this is of course a bit of a bummer, I'm frankly flabbergasted that our mystery machine actually managed to 'speed'. In fact we were doing 36 in a 30 mph area (I think I was overtaking a roadsweeper at the time). Just call me Louise Hamilton!
What else? Went down to visit the boat (the one which is ours, because we paid for it and have a receipt, yes we do, angry telephone man) at its new mooring, which was lovely. The trip was marred a bit by the fact that I have a really dreadful cold, though. So I spent a lot of time in my bunk, drinking hot backcurrant, with my manuscript, trying to sort out my paragraphing for my poor potential agent who says it's practically unreadable in its current format (who knew? not me, that's for sure). On Friday, I lost my voice totally. My very supportive Twin 2 said helpfully, "Don't worry, Mummy, Daddy can shout at us instead." Bless her little cotton socks. Worryingly, I still feel as if I'm on board, though. Everything is swaying around. I think I may  have mal de debarquement syndrome, but Hubby just thinks I'm a malingering tart, as usual.
Back with my lovely learners tomorrow. One student asked for a lesson on English humour. I'm not sure I can manage that, but we are going to do a mingling activity with some jokes, and spend time trying to work out why they are funny (or not). I hope that will be okay. I'm feeling a bit lacklustre and not really up to dissecting a section from Live at the Apollo for a mixed class of Chinese, Taiwanese, Koreans, Iraquis, Hungarians, Romanians and Libyans, and trying to explain why what's really funny is being downright evil about someone, because in some wierd British way that means you like them. Nope, I can't begin to explain that, so bang goes the A2/B1 ESOL class on 'taking the piss' - I'll leave that to a better teacher than me!
Okey doke. Nearly Twins' hairwashing time, better go xxx

Hello! How was your day? Mine began badly, but got better, which is preferable to the other way round. lt began with an angry phone call from a man claiming that we hadn't paid for the boat (we have) and threatening to 'lift' it. After some panicky phone calls and a trip to the boatyard with poor Twin 1, who was off school with a tummy bug, it transpired that the boat brokers have gone into liquidation. Although we bought the boat weeks ago, the now-bankrupt brokers failed to pass the cash on to the vendors. All a bit messy.
Next Twin 1 was dragged along to my dental appointment, where my over-zealous dentist told me that as l both clench and grind, l shall need a bigger mouthguard. He intimated that l may need to consider a brace, but l said that at four grand a pop, considering it was all I'd do.
Then we went for lunch with a friend l haven't seen for 6 years. We had bread baked in flowerpots, which was surprisingly nice.
Just as we were about to pick up the other Twin from school l got a call on my mobile from a literary agent who's interested in my book. Whoop, whoop.
this evening l dyed my hair - cinnamon spice, in anticipation of the autumnal weather that that nice Alex Deakin says is heading southwards.
So it has been an unusually eventful day.
l utterly failed to do any writing, though.

aaaarrrggghhh!

I need to vent. And it would be wrong to go bitching in the school playground, so you get it instead, soz.

Yes it's the flaming primary school. So here's the thing, Twins had been coming home from school saying that their PE bags (the same ones they've had for the past three years, proper school PE bags bought from Clarkes along with their sensible school shoes) are no longer allowed. Because they're pink. I fail to see how having a bag in school colours is likely to make my children run faster, jump higher or be better at catching a ball, but after a heated discussion with the Head on the subject, I wound my neck back in, apologised in writing, and went out to buy two new PE bags - mainly because I didn't want the girls to get hassle from their class teachers.

After buying said PE bags today, I went to pick the girls up from school. Twin 2 was in her PE kit. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: Oh, you've just had PE - how was it?
Her: Not good. The PE teacher didn't know I had a disability.
Me: Oh dear.
Her: I told him and he said we'd go somewhere else to talk about it, but we didn't.

Call me an oversensitive, pushy middle-class parent (go on, I bet all the teachers at the school do), but to me a school that prioritises the colour of PE bags above the actual well-being of a physically disabled pupil in a PE class has its priorities somewhat out of whack.

Yes, I'm livid.

On the plus side, I'm so angry that I just went for the fastest run I've done in weeks, and I did sixty seven sit ups and thirty three press ups afterwards.

We didn't even make it as far as Beeston. And Hubby has gone back to work. Son started school today - the beginning of the new school year always makes me feel a bit emotional, because you realise that they're one step closer to leaving home forever. However, after Son left in his neat and clean (but not for long) new uniform, I began to feel that I wouldn't mind the Twins being a couple of steps closer to leaving home forever, the pair of angry screeching loonies. Ended up being a productive day, though, buying socks and football boots and pants and polo shirts and trainers and - oh, how did those half price  wedges slip into the sensible uniform-buying basket, hmmm? I couldn't possibly say, but once they were paid for it did seem like a bit of a pfaff to take them back, especially as they will look so nice with the leather trousers, and did I mention that they were half price?

I'm hiding in the cabin keeping quiet. Hubby (aka Skipper/Cap'n/Man of Wrath) is by the heads, clearing up broken glass and cursing to himself. It's one of the many things that haven't quite gone according to plan with this whole water-gypsy lifestyle we are embracing. The plan was that we'd be in a nice mooring in Essex by now, having enjoyed a wonderful couple of weeks exploring England's glorious waterways on the best family holiday ever. Instead, here we are in Nottingham Boatyard, waiting for the chippy and plumber to finally finish sorting out all the snags. There's a slim chance we may make it a couple of miles up the Beeston Canal tomorrow. Just in time for the end of the hols. Best laid plans and all that, I s'pose. At least we remembered to bring the whiskey. x

summer hols

I know, it's been ages. I've been really busy eating ice creams and stuff (evidenced by the tightness of my jeans - need to get back on the 5:2 diet pronto). Anyway, it feels like the summer is almost over. I'm sat on the sofa underneath a fleecy blanket, for goodness sakes. At least it didn't rain today when I met up with some old mates for a picnic. There was that whole 'Hello! You're looking well! When did I last see you? Was it at so-and-so's wedding?' bit, and we realised that we hadn't seen each other for ten years. I know, ten flippin' years. Wierd isn't it, getting older. I am lucky enough to know some really lovely people, who I consider friends, but actually I hardly ever see them. That was the point behind the  road trip, to try to catch up with at least some of them. However, the ill car and the new boat put paid to that one. At least I've seen a couple of 'oldies'. Think I may have to start planning a retirement community to populate with all the nice people I know - along with a smattering of useful celebs, like Jamie Oliver for food, Dawn French for laughs, and obviously Kirsty & Phil to make sure we're all in a really super dooper location. Oh, and talking of which, I have applied to be on 'Kirsty's fill your house for free', so that when we finally do get out of our married quarter and into a house in the real world, we will have a chic-yet-cheaply-furnished house. (Or 'property' - have you noticed that on those house-y programmes it's never called a house or a flat, always a 'property' and housing estates are called 'urbanisations'. Wonder what they'd call the clutter that fills our garage? 'Retro embellishments' or 'vintage accoutrements', perhaps?).
Anyway, I burble.
Summer hols are over halfway through, and have been alright so far. We've seen rellies and friends and had ice creams and fish & chips by the sea. The kids visited a lighthouse with the grandparents. We've visited three National Trust houses. Twin 2 has learnt to ride her trike. I've met up with an old schoolfriend from the 80s, fellow volunteers and colleagues from the 90s, as well as Twins' best mate from Nepal (and her lovely mum), and half of my siblings (my sheep-scaring elder sister, to be precise*). All that's left to do is make eight curtains and upholster six banquette thingys (for the new boat) and take to the water.
The mystery machine's still not fixed, but hey, you can't have it all.

*I'll tell you the story sometime, after the scandal has died down...