A very good afternoon for your auntie. The Beautiful Son and myself watching the rugby. I need him with me as he explains every touch of the ball to me, I don't get it otherwise. Scotland won and so did Ireland. I have a strict preference in who I support, it goes like this
Scotland - because I'm Scottish
Ireland - because my mammy is Irish
France - because I love France (and Chabal and Szarzewski aren't too shabby)
Wales - because they're Celtic
I cannot support any other teams, so give out to me if you like, I know I live in England but I can't and won't support them and if that makes me a bad person so be it.
But what a day for me, my fave 2 teams winning and Ireland still on for the grand slam. I have lost my voice, I have screamed and I mean screamed like the big fat girl I am all afternoon. If you've been with me for a while, you'll know I have an irrational prejudice against Italians, I can't help it, okay I don't want to help it, I hate the feckers.
I really hated them last year with that wee fecker and his drop goal 40 seconds from time, but today was glorious, 26-6 and Simon Danelli and his beautiful try. I am so happy.
Saturday, 28 February 2009
Friday, 27 February 2009
Things I have found out
Learning to cook and type would have been much more useful to me in life than knowing the chemical formula for potassium and how to calculate the area of a triangle. The cooking and the typing I have to do daily, needing to recite the periodic table, algebra, trigafeckinometry or geometry, em that would be never in the 25 feckin years since I left school. Guidance teacher, too bright for food and nutrition and secretarial studies ? my arse.
Why was I so keen to leave home and have my own place ? what I wouldn't give to have a daily cleaning, laundry, cooking, fridge filling, cash point and taxi service now. Mammy, I'm sorry I was a heart scald to you, you were right, I didn't know I was born (translation how lucky I was)
Anti wrinkle creams whether they cost £10 or £100 do not remove wrinkles. Baking yourself in Ambre Solaire oil (in the brown bottle) may have been the kicker there. I can honestly remember thinking I'd rather be brown now and to hell with when I'm 40... not so happy about my choices now.
Teenage boys are incredibly good at fixing things if you let them have a go. This saves you quite a lot of money. Ciaran fixed my cupboard door, Alex my leaking radiator and joecryor the outside light and the printer. When these boys go to uni next year I'm getting married again, I have a year to find a man and make him propose, don't tell him about the failed grown up stuff or the weans, let him think I'm normal first, I do a good first impression and I'll lure him into a false sense of security. I know it's not pretty or ethical, it's survival.
Love doesn't conquer all, even if you both love each other, you may not be good for each other. I can't love someone enough to make it all better, I used to think I could.
Having 3 children in 4 and a half years may not have been one of my better ideas, it was tough enough when they were younger and needed so much care, I have now realised that I might have a year where all 3 of them are at University and how will I fund that ? Answers on a postcard please or email auntiegwen@iamfeckinskint.com
The 3rd glass makes me sick, repeat to fade...
Why was I so keen to leave home and have my own place ? what I wouldn't give to have a daily cleaning, laundry, cooking, fridge filling, cash point and taxi service now. Mammy, I'm sorry I was a heart scald to you, you were right, I didn't know I was born (translation how lucky I was)
Anti wrinkle creams whether they cost £10 or £100 do not remove wrinkles. Baking yourself in Ambre Solaire oil (in the brown bottle) may have been the kicker there. I can honestly remember thinking I'd rather be brown now and to hell with when I'm 40... not so happy about my choices now.
Teenage boys are incredibly good at fixing things if you let them have a go. This saves you quite a lot of money. Ciaran fixed my cupboard door, Alex my leaking radiator and joecryor the outside light and the printer. When these boys go to uni next year I'm getting married again, I have a year to find a man and make him propose, don't tell him about the failed grown up stuff or the weans, let him think I'm normal first, I do a good first impression and I'll lure him into a false sense of security. I know it's not pretty or ethical, it's survival.
Love doesn't conquer all, even if you both love each other, you may not be good for each other. I can't love someone enough to make it all better, I used to think I could.
Having 3 children in 4 and a half years may not have been one of my better ideas, it was tough enough when they were younger and needed so much care, I have now realised that I might have a year where all 3 of them are at University and how will I fund that ? Answers on a postcard please or email auntiegwen@iamfeckinskint.com
The 3rd glass makes me sick, repeat to fade...
Labels:
mammy,
teenage boys,
The Beautiful Children,
things I know now
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Addictions and Awards
Your auntie has had a wee bit bling bestowed upon her by the very facinating with a fascinator Flick at Dusting Spiders.
I have to tell you of my 5 addictions, there are lots of things in my life I adore but these are things (not people) that I could not bear to have in my life daily.
The Internet - I spend way too much time online, blogging, emailing, researching work stuff etc, I read loads of horoscopes too, I know I'm a sad article.
Coffee - I drink way too much, at home it's instant Marks and Spencer Fairtrade gold roast. In Starbucks it's venti skinny latte with cinnamon on or in summer venti coffee light frappucino. I am overly happy if someone else makes it for me.
Love - completely and utterly, my name is auntiegwen and I am a big fat love junkie.
Reading - my mammy taught me when I was 3 and I've never given up reading, can always be found with at least 2 books on the go and love my book group. At present reading Marian Keyes "This Charming Man" Fiona Neill "The Secret Life of a Slummy Mummy" and I should be reading the Barak Obama autobiographies as book group is on the 4th and I've to read both of his !
High heels - I always wear high heels, every single day, I do not possess a pair of flat shoes. This is because I am tiny, about 5 foot 3, but strangely I only seem to date tall men. Only once have I dated someone less than 6 foot. So I am completely addicted to my heels, I have been known to photograph new ones on my phone, I even show them to people, much to their bemusement. I can give good shoe porn should you be interested...
So my lovelies, I can't pick 5 of you, I don't want to hurt anyones feelings, so feel free to do the tag and take the bling because I love reading all your blogs.
Sunday, 22 February 2009
Bite Size Belfast
Despite the fact I have had only about 5 hours sleep in the last 2 days I am a happy and contented auntie.
Belfast was lovely, small, friendly and easy to get round, my kind of place. We did a fair old bit of the eating and the drinking and the sightseeing. We went to the Shankhill Road ( very protestant and British) and the Falls Road (very Catholic and Irish) to see some of the murals and I've taken masses of pictures of them but have restrained myself from posting them all.
To get from Shankhill Road to Falls Road we walked along Northumberland Avenue, which looks like a very nondescript road bordering industrial units. The thing that makes this one different is the fact that it has 50 feet high impenetrable metal gates with barbed wire atop which are used to separate the Shankhill from the Falls during the marching season. They regularly have to close the road to stop the 2 estates fighting. This may seem incredulous to some readers but in Belfast, Catholics and Protestants still fight over religion.
Coming from Glasgow as I do, I am well aware of bigotry and it's a very strange thing to try and explain and comprehend. I grew up Catholic but married a Protestant and I had to change faith. I have no wish to offend anyone's beliefs so I've tried to be careful what images I show. It was an unsettling walk
After a lovely Starbucks visit, where they gave us free have a drink on us vouchers to come back, how good is that ? We spent a wee whiley exploring the University quarter, which is really lovely, great little bars, restaurants and cafes and of course the very beautiful Queens University.
Quick shower and change then out for the evening. Many thanks to The Dotterell for this tip
And then on to the real reason for the visit
When I got home I found children all well, ex husband had done the ironing and had made me a pot of soup and I'd had a delivery when I was away.
So to my lovely friend, who sent me these flowers because they knew I've been down and having a hard time, I thank you most sincerely. My friends are the best and I do appreciate it. Like I always say, I AM a lucky, lucky girl.
Labels:
Belfast,
Catholics,
gigs,
kind friends,
Protestants.,
The Killers
Friday, 20 February 2009
Belfast
Tomorrow I will get up at stupid o'clock and fly with Robbinbastards air (apologies to Grandma in Cyprus and anyone else's mother or to Shirley's daughter's who may be offended by the language)
This will all be worth it as your auntie is off on a wee jolliday to Belfast. I am STREEMLY CITED about this as whilst I am there, I will go and see The Mighty Killers once again. You bet your sweet ass, I will stand up and dance !
Didn't I always tell you I'm a lucky, lucky girl ?
Tuesday, 17 February 2009
Room 101 - the updated 2009 version
One of my very first posts was about my room 101. 2 years on I actually feel the same, glad to know my irrational prejudices are still simmering away, it's a comforting thought that some things remain the same in an ever changing world. This was my 2007 Room 101
Clarks Shoe Shop
Anything from the week before to the day before a new term starts, these shops are transformed into the 7th circle of hell. You arrive and take a ticket and wait for your number to be called, this can take anything up to an hour. Meanwhile the place is full of pissed off parents and bored, fidgety and sometimes screaming children. Eventually your turn comes and your child is taken to the machine to have their feet measured. When the assistant asks your child which shoes they would like you resist the urge to throw back your head and cackle like a maniac, as you know from bitter experience that at best they will only have 1 pair of shoes in the whole feckin shop which will fit your child's feet. Sod's law dictates that your child will hate the only shoes they have and will strunt, strop and sometimes cry, you will feel like doing likewise. Because I am an unorganised Mummy I have left it to the day before term starts and know that my child will have to have these shoes as bare feet at the start of term will involve social services, so cajole and bribe child to accept their fate. Repeat this experience for each child you possess (3 in my case) and the highlight of the day will be when you get to hand over usually over £100 in my case but still feel like a cheapskate when you don't buy the polish, protector and fur lined box to store them in. I get to do this 4 times per year, this is why it is no 1
Swimming Lessons
The years of my life I have wasted sitting at the side of an overchlorinated overheated pool whilst waiting for 1 of my offspring to reach level bloody 12. You also have the delights of chit chatting to another Mummy waiting for her child and the only thing you will have in common will be your child's ability or lack of in the swimming department. Other mummies are often weird.You can substitute any kind of lesson for this , I have done several over the years, ballet, tap, football, rugby, gymnastics, athletics, rainbows, brownies, beavers and cubs to name but a few. My child's interest in new activities/clubs etc is directly proportionate to how long I take to buy all the kit and write the cheque for the term of lessons. As soon as that is done so is their interest, mine are ferocious joiners but have no staying power.
People who attempt to mimic my accent
I have been blessed and was born Scottish, I love the accent. I hate hate hate when people who on hearing me speak for the first time feel compelled to say something like och aye the noo or some other such drivel. This makes me want to physically hurt them and after living in England for 7 years I am now incredibly bored with this and I will retaliate, you have been warned.
Guardian readers
Never ever met 1 I liked. Especially ones with non useful degrees and who always eat organic food. Enough said
2009 update
Clarks shoe shops don't hold the same terror factor as my nearly 17 year old doesn't wear school shoes anymore, my 13 year old son still does but only gets slip ons as he's too feckin lazy to tie his laces but the real kicker is trying to persuade my 12 year old that she still has to have proper school shoes, she no likey, she likey stupid shoes fron New Look and other gawd awful shops. BBD is the child that is most difficult to persuade into anything but time is passing, in a few years she will leave middle school and there is no dress code at our high school, just the rest of year 7 and years 8 and 9 to go then that's only 10 more visits to Clarks and I can retire as a mummy shoe shopper.
Surely the Queen will be giving me a medal for efforts in making sure my offspring had the correct width and length fitting shoes at considerable expense from 1993? That will be an 18 year child shoe shopping career, think of the Manolo's and Choo's I could have had, do my children care about my sacrifice ? not a jot ! Ungrateful lot of weans with perfectly formed feet that they are.
My swimming lesson days are over, Glory be to God in the Highest, BBD reached level bloody 12 and I'm done now. In the 2 years since I wrote this, BBD has taken up and stopped cornet lessons and is currently thinking of quitting drama. EBD has given up drama but she better start it back again if she's thinking about a drama degree they might want to see a bit more than AS/A level Theatre Studies as the sum total of her commitment. TBS is still with rugby and electric guitar lessons so maybe my son can see something through to the end.
I still get annoyed by people who try to do a Scottish accent. Add to that the person (you know who you are and you should hang your head in shame) who takes great pleasure in calling any Scottish person who achieves anything as British but if they do anything bad they call them Scottish, Andy Murray is always British when he wins.
Guardian readers, yep they still annoy me but I have added to that Daily Mail readers, they epitomise to me all that's wrong with this country.
Would you like a new one ?
Airlines that charge you £20 for paying for your flights (debit or credit card, Ryanair, you are a bunch of robbing B****rds, it's not like you have a nice wee branch in my local high street where I can pop in and pay cash or an address where I can send a cheque to. And you have to get up at crack of sparrows to get your flight at stupid o clock too.
Okay, I'm done now ranty auntie has left the building !
Clarks Shoe Shop
Anything from the week before to the day before a new term starts, these shops are transformed into the 7th circle of hell. You arrive and take a ticket and wait for your number to be called, this can take anything up to an hour. Meanwhile the place is full of pissed off parents and bored, fidgety and sometimes screaming children. Eventually your turn comes and your child is taken to the machine to have their feet measured. When the assistant asks your child which shoes they would like you resist the urge to throw back your head and cackle like a maniac, as you know from bitter experience that at best they will only have 1 pair of shoes in the whole feckin shop which will fit your child's feet. Sod's law dictates that your child will hate the only shoes they have and will strunt, strop and sometimes cry, you will feel like doing likewise. Because I am an unorganised Mummy I have left it to the day before term starts and know that my child will have to have these shoes as bare feet at the start of term will involve social services, so cajole and bribe child to accept their fate. Repeat this experience for each child you possess (3 in my case) and the highlight of the day will be when you get to hand over usually over £100 in my case but still feel like a cheapskate when you don't buy the polish, protector and fur lined box to store them in. I get to do this 4 times per year, this is why it is no 1
Swimming Lessons
The years of my life I have wasted sitting at the side of an overchlorinated overheated pool whilst waiting for 1 of my offspring to reach level bloody 12. You also have the delights of chit chatting to another Mummy waiting for her child and the only thing you will have in common will be your child's ability or lack of in the swimming department. Other mummies are often weird.You can substitute any kind of lesson for this , I have done several over the years, ballet, tap, football, rugby, gymnastics, athletics, rainbows, brownies, beavers and cubs to name but a few. My child's interest in new activities/clubs etc is directly proportionate to how long I take to buy all the kit and write the cheque for the term of lessons. As soon as that is done so is their interest, mine are ferocious joiners but have no staying power.
People who attempt to mimic my accent
I have been blessed and was born Scottish, I love the accent. I hate hate hate when people who on hearing me speak for the first time feel compelled to say something like och aye the noo or some other such drivel. This makes me want to physically hurt them and after living in England for 7 years I am now incredibly bored with this and I will retaliate, you have been warned.
Guardian readers
Never ever met 1 I liked. Especially ones with non useful degrees and who always eat organic food. Enough said
2009 update
Clarks shoe shops don't hold the same terror factor as my nearly 17 year old doesn't wear school shoes anymore, my 13 year old son still does but only gets slip ons as he's too feckin lazy to tie his laces but the real kicker is trying to persuade my 12 year old that she still has to have proper school shoes, she no likey, she likey stupid shoes fron New Look and other gawd awful shops. BBD is the child that is most difficult to persuade into anything but time is passing, in a few years she will leave middle school and there is no dress code at our high school, just the rest of year 7 and years 8 and 9 to go then that's only 10 more visits to Clarks and I can retire as a mummy shoe shopper.
Surely the Queen will be giving me a medal for efforts in making sure my offspring had the correct width and length fitting shoes at considerable expense from 1993? That will be an 18 year child shoe shopping career, think of the Manolo's and Choo's I could have had, do my children care about my sacrifice ? not a jot ! Ungrateful lot of weans with perfectly formed feet that they are.
My swimming lesson days are over, Glory be to God in the Highest, BBD reached level bloody 12 and I'm done now. In the 2 years since I wrote this, BBD has taken up and stopped cornet lessons and is currently thinking of quitting drama. EBD has given up drama but she better start it back again if she's thinking about a drama degree they might want to see a bit more than AS/A level Theatre Studies as the sum total of her commitment. TBS is still with rugby and electric guitar lessons so maybe my son can see something through to the end.
I still get annoyed by people who try to do a Scottish accent. Add to that the person (you know who you are and you should hang your head in shame) who takes great pleasure in calling any Scottish person who achieves anything as British but if they do anything bad they call them Scottish, Andy Murray is always British when he wins.
Guardian readers, yep they still annoy me but I have added to that Daily Mail readers, they epitomise to me all that's wrong with this country.
Would you like a new one ?
Airlines that charge you £20 for paying for your flights (debit or credit card, Ryanair, you are a bunch of robbing B****rds, it's not like you have a nice wee branch in my local high street where I can pop in and pay cash or an address where I can send a cheque to. And you have to get up at crack of sparrows to get your flight at stupid o clock too.
Okay, I'm done now ranty auntie has left the building !
Labels:
Daily Mail readers,
room 101 ( 09 update),
Ryanair
Saturday, 14 February 2009
The Boy is Back
The Beautiful Son has returned from his snowboarding trip in Switzerland with his full complement of limbs and all intact ! I have missed him muchly, this has been a week where I could have done with his hugs, he does the lie down beside you, not speaking, but immensly empathetic thing perfectly.
We were chatting about his trip and then he got very animated and said excitedly "We boarded into France" I said that sounded great and he told me about boading right down to the restaurant for lunch. He then got very excited and told me " I had the best sandwich I have ever tasted, a toasted cheese and ham panini"
I did nearly wet myself laughing when he added "I took a picture of it on my phone"
So to my lovely friend, you know who you are, who said the reason my son hadn't rung all week was because he was too busy shagging a chalet maid (apologies again to Grandma in Cyprus for the language) Na na na na na
He still remains very much a small boy, shagging a chalet maid, would you give yourself peace !
We were chatting about his trip and then he got very animated and said excitedly "We boarded into France" I said that sounded great and he told me about boading right down to the restaurant for lunch. He then got very excited and told me " I had the best sandwich I have ever tasted, a toasted cheese and ham panini"
I did nearly wet myself laughing when he added "I took a picture of it on my phone"
So to my lovely friend, you know who you are, who said the reason my son hadn't rung all week was because he was too busy shagging a chalet maid (apologies again to Grandma in Cyprus for the language) Na na na na na
He still remains very much a small boy, shagging a chalet maid, would you give yourself peace !
Labels:
sanwiches,
shagging,
snowboarding,
the beautiful son
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Valentine Schmalentine part deux
In my last post, I was setting out my stall as to what I wanted for Valentine's Day. I had no conception that this Valentine malarkey should be a 2 way street. Oh no, your auntie was thinking how very what splendid it would be if SHE got what she wanted, no thought whatsoever that I would actually have to do anything my own self.
So, in my comments, I had lots of lovely sweet wishes from my bloggy loved ones, a special mention to TF who offered to change sex for me, now that's what I call friendship ! some great offers and some sage advice from Soxy, you can read the comments here
So I drag MY sorry ass into town and into the card shop. As I'm there I realise I haven't sent a Valentine's card in over 20 years, I think I was 20 the last time. Well, dear readers, I was horrified, they were all really bleurggh, I, of course have no clue what I actually want because I don't buy them I've never looked at them.
Some I could discount right off the bat, the ones that say to my husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, love of my life, the one I love, someone very special etc etc etc.
Then I discounted the cute ones with teddy bears and fluffy bunnies etc, after barfing of course, I am just so not a teddy bear kinda gal.
I have to discount all the flowery ones, not partial to that.
Then I have to discount the ones that say " I want to shag you senseless" I feel a little decorum is called for.
That leaves me with the funny ones, except they weren't.
I ask the Thorntons lady if she would ice " Fecking Romantic Gesture" on a chocolate heart and she looked at me like I'd kicked a puppy and told me off for my language, suitably chastened, I left shamefacedly.
So I try another card shop and lastly a 3rd and I still couldn't find a card that I would be happy to send or to receive myself, for the love of God, why can't I find a simple, stylish, tasteful card ?
Now I realise why men don't make a fuss over Valentine's Day, it's just fecking hard work, I was an hour, a whole hour trying to get a card, do you know what else I could have been doing in that hour ?
However, I have put the work in and I feel sure that come Saturday, I shall be rewarded most handsomely for all my efforts.
Incidentally should anyone want to take me anywhere on Saturday, I have THE sexiest new little black dress and killer heels...
So, in my comments, I had lots of lovely sweet wishes from my bloggy loved ones, a special mention to TF who offered to change sex for me, now that's what I call friendship ! some great offers and some sage advice from Soxy, you can read the comments here
So I drag MY sorry ass into town and into the card shop. As I'm there I realise I haven't sent a Valentine's card in over 20 years, I think I was 20 the last time. Well, dear readers, I was horrified, they were all really bleurggh, I, of course have no clue what I actually want because I don't buy them I've never looked at them.
Some I could discount right off the bat, the ones that say to my husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, love of my life, the one I love, someone very special etc etc etc.
Then I discounted the cute ones with teddy bears and fluffy bunnies etc, after barfing of course, I am just so not a teddy bear kinda gal.
I have to discount all the flowery ones, not partial to that.
Then I have to discount the ones that say " I want to shag you senseless" I feel a little decorum is called for.
That leaves me with the funny ones, except they weren't.
I ask the Thorntons lady if she would ice " Fecking Romantic Gesture" on a chocolate heart and she looked at me like I'd kicked a puppy and told me off for my language, suitably chastened, I left shamefacedly.
So I try another card shop and lastly a 3rd and I still couldn't find a card that I would be happy to send or to receive myself, for the love of God, why can't I find a simple, stylish, tasteful card ?
Now I realise why men don't make a fuss over Valentine's Day, it's just fecking hard work, I was an hour, a whole hour trying to get a card, do you know what else I could have been doing in that hour ?
However, I have put the work in and I feel sure that come Saturday, I shall be rewarded most handsomely for all my efforts.
Incidentally should anyone want to take me anywhere on Saturday, I have THE sexiest new little black dress and killer heels...
Labels:
choosing cards,
hard feckin work,
IT God,
Valentines Day
Saturday, 7 February 2009
Valentine Schmalentine
Apologies up front and in advance, you are about to witness a middle aged woman have a whine, I won't go as far as to have a full blown temper tantrum but I'm definitely going to have a wee strunt to myself. If you are of a sensitive disposition, you may wish to exit gracefully and return another day, I will not be offended in the slightest, I'm your auntie, I'll always love you.
Okay, here it comes
I am 42 years old, you probably knew that, I make a point of telling people, it helps me realise that I am meant to be a grown up, a grown up who accepts the little curve balls that life throws at her middle aged self from time to time. More difficult for me to accept, however, is that I am not Carrie from Sex and The City, all right she's skinnier and has better shoes in a more glamorous location but there have been things I have truly empathised with. I bawled like a middle aged baby at this, my favourite episode, "La Douleur Exquise" series 2
Anyway, it's February, me no likey February, me especially no likey Valentines Day and there's no feckin escaping it, it is EVERYWHERE.
Here is the big fat whiney moan coming, in my whole fortyfeckintwo years I have received a grand total of 4 Valentines cards and that, frankly, is piss poor in a woman my age, there are 5 year olds that have had more than me and truth be told, in the last 2 years both my Dad and my sister have increased my market share by 50%, how patronised am I ?
Before I retired as a wife, I didn't give a curdy about Valentine's Day, it obviously happened every year and I'm sure I was aware of it but it didn't figure for me, I could have had red roses and diamond rings and anything I asked for, did I want it ? That would be a no.
But now I'm not married ? now I don't have someone legally bound to make my every wish come true? I want a lovely card, I want to be taken out to some overpriced with crap food "cos we can because we know we'll be full as you are all big suckers" restaurant, I want a big feck off romantic gesture. Sorry I have to rephrase that, I want a big FUCK off romantic gesture.
Contrary and shallow ? those would be my middle names.
Sorry, it did venture a wee bitty in to tantrum mode and apologies for the use of the hard F word, especially to NB's mother, it was for emphasis.
But I still want it, show me the mush.
Okay, here it comes
I am 42 years old, you probably knew that, I make a point of telling people, it helps me realise that I am meant to be a grown up, a grown up who accepts the little curve balls that life throws at her middle aged self from time to time. More difficult for me to accept, however, is that I am not Carrie from Sex and The City, all right she's skinnier and has better shoes in a more glamorous location but there have been things I have truly empathised with. I bawled like a middle aged baby at this, my favourite episode, "La Douleur Exquise" series 2
Anyway, it's February, me no likey February, me especially no likey Valentines Day and there's no feckin escaping it, it is EVERYWHERE.
Here is the big fat whiney moan coming, in my whole fortyfeckintwo years I have received a grand total of 4 Valentines cards and that, frankly, is piss poor in a woman my age, there are 5 year olds that have had more than me and truth be told, in the last 2 years both my Dad and my sister have increased my market share by 50%, how patronised am I ?
Before I retired as a wife, I didn't give a curdy about Valentine's Day, it obviously happened every year and I'm sure I was aware of it but it didn't figure for me, I could have had red roses and diamond rings and anything I asked for, did I want it ? That would be a no.
But now I'm not married ? now I don't have someone legally bound to make my every wish come true? I want a lovely card, I want to be taken out to some overpriced with crap food "cos we can because we know we'll be full as you are all big suckers" restaurant, I want a big feck off romantic gesture. Sorry I have to rephrase that, I want a big FUCK off romantic gesture.
Contrary and shallow ? those would be my middle names.
Sorry, it did venture a wee bitty in to tantrum mode and apologies for the use of the hard F word, especially to NB's mother, it was for emphasis.
But I still want it, show me the mush.
Friday, 6 February 2009
Life's little Ironies
My county is covered in snow. My school closed yesterday due to snow for only the second time in it's 600 year history. Everywhere is white, in parts it is at least a foot deep. I don't really like snow, I like the look of it, when I'm inside and I'm warm and dry but I don't like the inconvenience of it.
The Beautiful Children are enjoying this weather muchly, killjoy that I am, am not. My house is awash with damp smelly socks, damp smelly clothes and full of damp weans draped over radiators demanding cups of hot chocolate.
But the real kicker ? I have forked out over £600 for The Beautiful Son to go snowboarding in Switzerland tomorrow. I could have pushed him down the A6 and saved myself a fortune.
Labels:
I don't like snow,
karma,
snowboarding,
wasting money
Thursday, 5 February 2009
auntiegwen loves you
I know I'm crap at awards, people are incredibly kind at giving me them and I never reciprocate. That's bad, I'm usually better at giving than receiving.
So here it is, chock full of love from your auntie, this award is for anyone who pops in to visit their auntie, has been kind enough to comment and for the lovelies listed who have adorned their auntie with bling, in no particular order
Lisa, Tom Foolery, Mean Mom, Mom or Mum wars, Mobs, A Confused Take That Fan, DJ Kirby, Working Mum, That Girl and if I've left anyone out, I apologize and I know some of you are multiple givers.
If you don't have an award, please let mine be the first. I absolutely love being part of the community of bloggers, I now know people from all over the world and have insights into all kinds of things that would have passed me by. There have been striking similarities in lives lived an ocean apart and I love hearing how others are getting through theirs. I have made friends who can pick up nuances from what I write and will take time out of their life to email and offer support, so take a bow Lisa, Shirley, Sue, Penelope, you have dried some virtual tears and send lots of cyber hugs.
I always think I have an overwhelmingly female readership and I always applaud the power of female friendship but in the last wee while I have had some men who pop in from time to time, I also have some male bloggers I speak to off blog, I know, I can't believe it either, they're rubbish at discussing lip gloss though. So I want you to know I appreciate you visiting such a pink blog.
So again, I thank you for putting up with me bumping my gums about my weans, my complete inability to be a grown up and how if I were in charge of the world it would be a much better place.
Most of all thank you for giving me a voice.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
The Restlessness of a Middle Aged Woman
Do you ever feel that other people know the rules of the game but you don't ? Or that everyone else is dancing and you don't know the steps ? Or remember when you were a child and you watch other children play and you are longing be part of the fun but are too shy to ask to join in ?
I am extremely restless and bored at the moment, I feel that the world is passing me by and I'm just a spectator on life not an actual participant. I am enabling other people to have a fulfilled life but don't feel that my life is all it could be.
I know that I am the only person who can do anything about this but this is the first time I am not being apologetic about doing something that will make me happier. I'm putting my cards on the table and I am going to regain control of my life.
So I am going to make some changes, the "I'd like to run away from my life" can't happen because I have others who rely on me, but my arse would just be a blur if it wasn't for that so I've started with my hair, sad but true women do do drastic things with their appearance when they are feverish for change.
My job is next and then I am going for my "no regrets" personal happiness manifesto.
Labels:
being bored,
changes,
life passing me by,
restlessness
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