Tuesday, 27 April 2010

Your mission, should you choose to accept it

As if to prove my point about Hot Boy fitting right in with us, this happened yesterday.

Eldest Beautiful Daughter has decided I need a romance. She feels an amour will keep me occupied enough not to be in her room on a hourly basis asking how her A level revision is getting on. Hot Boy proffers up Justin the accountant in his office.

Gist of text messages sent between EBD and Hot Boy

How old demands EBD


Is he a BMW driver?

Nope, Lexus, Hot Boy's seen it in the car park

How tall?

6 foot 2 ish

Has he hair?

Yep, light brown

Is he fat ?

Sideways he's got a bit of a gut

What's his starsign?


Is he good looking?

He's ok, he's really funny though

Would my mum like him?

He doesn't look like or act like your dad

That's okay, but she is quite fussy, don't let on to him what we're up to till I've had a squint at him

Lara, I keep going in his office, making him stand up, turn sideways, checked him for baldness and asked him his starsign, he knows somethings going on, but I'll try and take a sneaky pic of him before end of work.

Oh my God, see what we've done, we've turned him as stone mad as the rest of us

Monday, 26 April 2010

Hot Boy and his polar opposite, The Beautiful Son

Hot Boy is fast becoming our families main form of entertainment, we are genuinely fond of him, but he sets himself up for getting ripped apart by us. You may have noticed we tend not to hold back in our going for the funny, we are polite to outsiders though but as he's becoming one of us, no holds barred. TBS really gets on well with him and Hot Boy is incredibly patient and good natured with all of us but he is brilliant with TBS despite TBS telling everyone that Hot Boy is only nice to him because he's grooming him.

On Saturday, Hot Boy and The Beautiful Son were going off to play snooker whilst EBD did some Sociology revision (this is being blogged for posterity as I want to document any kind of A level effort) Hot Boy appeared all primped and preened, wearing skinny 3/4 length jeans, a white T shirt with sleeves rolled up and flip flops. He looked like an extra from a Wham video circa 1983.

The Beautiful Son refused to go out with him, citing the grounds that Hot Boy was dressed like "a poof" and bless dear Hot Boy he changed his outfit. He usually carries 3 or 4 changes of clothes in his man bag "just in case"

Later that night Hot Boy and EBD are going out into town. Hot Boy decides to wear EBD's black skinny jeans, he doesn't like his own skinny jeans as they are too baggy round the arse. We had just got used to the beauty regime and the slightly gay overtones but cross dressing?

The Beautiful Son asked was it not uncomfortable in the crotch area, as they were girls jeans and to quote TBS (remember hear this in an old man Scottish voice) "Nae much room for yer bollocks"

Without missing a beat Hot Boy said "No problem mate, your sister keeps them in her handbag"

Ah yes, welcome to our family, Hot Boy, you're fitting right in.

Saturday, 24 April 2010

Who says romance is dead?

This week I was visiting a lady I like and admire muchly. She is in her late seventies and her energy and enthusiasm put me to shame. She's a retired teacher, very brisk and no nonsense but with great heart.

Her husband returned home and called "I'm home, my love" and I remarked that I found his term of endearment delightful and so sweet after over 50 years of marriage.

She gave me a look that was both pitying and withering at the same time and said "My dear girl, he's talking to the cat"

Thursday, 22 April 2010

Ranty auntie, the return.

Did you need a BIG HUGE MIDDLE AGE WOMAN ALERT in capitals for emphasis or could you get there all by yourself by the title?

More than one thing that's making me annoyed, I'm afraid, you knew you'd have to pay for all that gratuitous kilt porn, didn't you? In no particular order...

Beautiful Baby Daughter/Carbon Footprint Nazi has taken sulking in her bedroom to Olympic standard. It has been accompanied by alternate cross and shouty screaming and passive aggressive face pulling. The BBD has been grounded causing the majority of the sulking. Chez auntiegwen grounded means no playing out and no computer time. Reason for grounding is for wearing mascara to school. I don't like her wearing make up anyway but school rules forbid it. No matter what rules the school has and they have many, even if I think it's a stupid and pointless rule, again I think her school have many, if it's there I will expect my child to uphold it. I am not swayed by her arguments that some of the girls at her school are orange and wear false eyelashes (sounds like a training school for drag artistes rather than a boringly suburban middle school) I'm sure she feels I'm being unreasonable for her bit of mascara but rules are rules.

The family meeting to discuss Oreo's pissed me off somewhat too. This was the idea of Eldest Beautiful Daughter. Not one of her better ones. Sainsburys have had Oreo's on special offer, I bought lots, EBD didn't get to eat lots. Too much effort to get cross and shouty, low level pissed off, ergo moan at family time not even very cunningly disguised as a family discussion. I don't even like Oreos and have eaten none, The Beautiful Son's protestations had a ring of truth about them, he fessed up to a snack pack of 4. This left 4 snack packs total 16 biscuits unaccounted for, I know you're riveted by the thrills that go on in my life, what can I say? happy to share. More discussion found a 6 pack of wagon wheels gone too, all gone in 3 days. Culprit found to be BBD, sulking needs a ferocious amount of biscuits to fuel apparently. This lead to more discussion about sharing, not eating too much crap, The Beautiful Son asking if she got really fat could her roll her down a hill, EBD and TBS saying she'll end up 23 stone and they'd have to feed her wagon wheels on the end of long pointy sticks because they couldn't reach her, Hot Boy adding she'd have to wear control pants like his sister leading to cross shouty leaving of room, door slamming and crying in bedroom. Poor poor BBD. I'm pleased no one brought up the broken garden table of last weekend.

Flight booking is rather tedious at present. I apologize in advance to anyone reading this who's been stranded and having a crap time or has had their holiday cancelled or lost money because of the hurdygurdystrangename volcano. My sister who thought she was going to Cyprus yesterday found out she's now going to Lanzarote on May 20th, fair play. I need to get to Turkey in June for a week with 1 child and then I need to go again for another week in October with the other 2. I know tough life. The complete inability to decide or compromise over our holiday means going to the villa in October half term with only the 2 youngest as EBD will be at uni and have no half term break, so she and I will pop over in June as we have a spare week and her A levels will be finished.

When you see a flight, the price quoted seems to have no real correlation to what they take off your credit card. They just seem to put a random bunch of numbers up and hope for the best. I am charged extra for using a card to pay despite I can only use a card to pay, there is no facility for me to feed ten pound notes into my laptop.

I have also been charged for and I don't even begin to understand it
UK Departure Tax: 33.00
Passenger Service Charge: 31.68
Fuel Surcharge: 96.00
ChargeCode TDT, TicketCode TR (DLM-LTN): 40.50

See, just random numbers.

I have no wish to take your travel insurance, I have my own thank you, a year long policy that covers us all and still costs less than your one trip wonder. I laugh at the thought of paying £10 per person for a meal, come on.

They charge me stupid amounts of money to take a suitcase. How very unreasonable of me to take a suitcase on my holiday, I've a good mind to turn up wearing a weeks worth of clothes and have done with it.

I'm simply not prepared to pay £7.50 per person each way to choose my seat, you slyly tell me I may not be able to sit with my beloved and so easy to travel with teenagers. This would only add £45 to the cost of my flight. I decline, I'm sure it would be much better for me and each child to sit seperately for the 4 hour flight. I'm sure your other passenegrs would agree than low level bickering is not an enhancement to the start of their holiday. I feel I've now got a bargain, 4 hours without the she said he said, ipod in, good book, Christ I think I would pay £45 to ensure we do sit seperately.

I'd like it much better if it was how it used to be, they told me how much, I paid, I turned up with a suitcase and a passport, they didn't complain that my lip gloss wasn't in a plastic bag and therefore causing a huge threat to national security and I got on the plane.

I've been awake since 2am, this is not good, it's now 5 past 4 and I'm going to try and get some sleep before I wake up at 5, which is still far too early.

Tuesday, 20 April 2010

My Celebrity Shag List

All credit to BeeLikeJ as that's where I pinched that lovely quote and pic from. And with the greatest of thanks to Jacey, you can in fact click HERE and see my number 1 in all his glory, yes, my dear sweet readers, it is, the divine Mr David Tennant. Oh be still my beating heart.

I wouldn't say no to Ewan McGregor either, many thanks to fanpop for the gratuitous kilt porn. Many thanks to Queensjoy who made the Ewan graphic that somehow ended up on fanpop where I pinched it from.

I could also be tempted by the very lovely Craig Ferguson, once half of Bing Hitler now a chat show host in America. Bit of a theme emerging here.

And how could I say no to Gerard Butler, he took his mammy to the premiere too, are you loving the kilt porn?

Last but no means least, who could resist Sharleen, especially in her Elvis gear?

Okay, so who's going to have a go? Obviously you don't have to pick 5 Scottish people, you'll probably want to but it's not compulsory.

Monday, 19 April 2010

I had a very technologically trying day

I am usually a happy wee scone on Mondays. I laze around whilst offspring are at school, I stay in jammies eating chocolate and then I pretend I've been working. I am usually very happy to be clickety clickety on the internets. Not today.

Today I tried and failed to order a new garden table from Marks and Spencer, the one I want is out of stock.

Today my google reader thingy is completely blank, this means that when anyone I have on my bloglist posts I don't know they have, I like to know this, I like to read your posts, I'm not ignoring you, honest.

I absofeckinlutely hate the student finance section of directgov, my child is putting in her correct passport details, we have the feckin thing in our sweaty mitts, we can't go any further in the application process and we are now both bored to death with it.

If she cannot access this, she will be unable to obtain a tuition fee loan, I am now strongly considering naked ironing, apparently you get £35 an hour for it, just hook your web cam up and away you go. I fear I will be a bad parent if I insist on her making erotic films, even though there has been a demand. Naked ironing seems like a good compromise.

I was going to write about my celebrity shag list, I have spent quite a long time trying to find naked pictures of David Tennant today. I have failed, I did see one of him partially covered but the bit that was covered was the bit I'd be partial to.

I will try and post my celebrity shag list tomorrow, I fear I may have already told you this a few years ago so if I have please just pretend you don't remember and act surprised.

I hate homework

I really do, as a child I seemed to spend all my Sundays doing it. As a teacher I hated setting it because I knew I'd have a fight to get it back in and then I'd have to mark it. As a parent, I hate it because I have to get involved in a way my parents managed to avoid. If it's a subject I know about I mind less, but attracting the wrong men, repelling the right men, lip gloss merits and eating chocolate till you feel sick are strangely missing from the national curriculum.

I have been a mummy for a very long time and it's getting quite wearing to measure rainfall over a week or make an erupting volcano or anything else the year 8 geography teachers get out of the Times Educational Supplement sharing resources site for the 3rd time.

This week, Beautiful Baby Daughter has to measure our carbon footprint. I hate this topic already and we've only just started. The BBD has not been blessed with the can't be arsed gene like the rest of us and she espouses causes with the zeal of the newly converted. She is a girl looking for a cause, when the community Police Officer came to Girls Brigade and gave them a talk on the dangers of drink and drugs, my life was a feckin nightmare. She had this wee whizzy wheel thing that added up your alcohol units and it fair put you off a second glass I can tell you.

She is now a carbon footprint Nazi. Our house is causing all the global warming problems and it's most probably the reason why people are stuck in airports over the world waiting to get back here. Some of my light fittings don't have energy efficient bulbs and not all my appliances are A rated, some of our battery operated devices (steady now) we don't recharge our own batteries for, we leave lights on, use too many gadgets and aren't on a green tariff. On the plus side I did get big ticks for always recycling paper, glass and plastic and never using a tumble drier and I have taught my children not to run the tap whilst brushing their teeth but overall we are not very green, maybe a pale wishy washy eau de nil rather than emerald.

I will just have to wait for this topic to be over and she gets converted to a new cause.

Sunday, 18 April 2010

I thank you...

I have been awarded some nice new bloggy bling which are now up on my cybershelf of nice things. This lovely one from Mrs W.

On this new template it's less clear than the old pink, but I promise you if you clink on the names, by the magic of the bloggy hyperlinking fairy she will take you immediately to these good people's blogs.

Now I need to tell you 7 things I'd rather not tell you. Jeez, this is hard, you know how fat, skint, old and boring I am, I share everything with you.

1. I'd rather not tell you that I accepted a man to be my friend on facebook purely because he was nice looking, we only have 1 friend in common and that's a blog friend so I have never ever met him.

2. I'd rather not tell you what I would do to David Tennant if I got the chance.

3. I'd rather not tell you about my very quick date with the man with the worst teeth in the world.

4. I'd rather not tell you about my few dates with a semi famous comedian and how this relationship is slightly teetering because I think I am funnier than he is. Despite the fact he gets paid and people turn up to see him.

5. I'd rather not tell you about how my very first ex still texts me and still wants to see me and do stuff he used to do to me.

6. I'd rather not tell you that I'd quite like him to, because he was good, far too good.

7. I'd rather not tell you that I feel extremely guilty about this because I don't actually like him very much.

Moving swiftly on, this lovely one came from Tuppence

Please feel free to take either of the awards and do either the tag if you're brave enough. My lovely friend Mae asked me weeks ago for my ten favourite things, I'm not counting family and friends as I'd fill my ten with them alone so other than that, in no particular order

1 Sunshine
2 A good book
3 Live music
4 Live comedy
5 Pink fizzy
6 Being thin enough to fit into your jeans
7 Kisses, especially on the neck or back
8 Looking forward to a Saturday night out
9 The internet, where would I be without it?
10 Rum and raisin ice cream

And last but not least a great big thank you to the lovely, lovely reader who nominated me for a Mads award, Sally from the mads popped in to tell me that I have been nominated for mad Blogger of the year and funniest mad blog, well my life is quite mad but it's only fecking funny when you're not living it! But to the person who could be arsed to log on and vote, tapadh leat (thank you) You are truly very kind and I appreciate the gesture, muchly x

Thursday, 15 April 2010

Adventure is our middle name

The Beautiful Children and I have spent the last 5 years going on holiday to our villa in Turkey. That's the point of having a holiday home. It also gets rented out and this gives me the twin joy of actually having enough money to pay for it and blog fodder when I get stories of what people do on holiday. It also means I can avoid decisions as we know the auntie is not good at being decisive.

Ever since the Beautiful Baby Daughter was a baby, we have always holidayed in a villa, we rented them all over the place, the ex mr auntiegwen spent so much time meeting and having to schmooze people at work when he was on holiday he didn't want to make small talk with other holiday makers. This suited me fine, I always managed to get a sunlounger where I wanted it and I didn't have to spend sunny afternoons in a hotel room trying to put a fractious overheated toddler down for an afternoon nap. We just put them in a cot, baby monitor on and back to the sunlounger. We just wanted our own house but with sunshine, ergo buying the villa.

This year our villa is booked solidly throughout the summer holidays (earning money so I can send Eldest Beautiful Daughter to that place where they take all my money and teach my child to drink, I believe other people call them Universities)

I thought The Beautiful Children would be pleased to go somewhere else, I imagined that they would enjoy a hotel/apartment complex and they could meet other teenagers and have someone other than me to talk to. Not so, the years where maybe they would have enjoyed meeting other kids appear to have passed. They all want to go to their own house, at a push they will go to where our house is but in the villa we rented before we bought our house.

Either we have our summer holiday in October when we have space or we be brave and go somewhere else. The suggestions that are possibe are Italy or Greece, those that are getting less possible and quite expensive (in my head that came out in a French accent and with a French laugh at the end) Cuba, Thailand, Dubai, a cruise, South Africa, Antigua or Australia.

I can't seem to please all of them, one wants an all inclusive which is another's idea of the 3rd circle of hell, one wants a villa and solitude another wants a busy place with loasd of people, one wants somewhere we've never been before and another likes our village because they know where all the good places are. This is why I don't do decisions, if it were up to me we'd all be learning to do pilates in France.

Suggestions please, where can the family von auntiegwen go for their holidays.

Monday, 12 April 2010

And when you thought it couldn't get any weirder


This post may make you feel middle aged or out of touch or extremely dull or Daily Mailish (i.e worried about the youth of today, this country's gone to the dogs, in my day etc etc)

Eldest Beautiful Daughter was at a friends house watching The Boy in Striped Pyjamas (this is not especially relevant but the devil is in the detail they say) on DVD. She was given a lift home by her friend and her friend's boyfriend.

When they arrived at our house they were chatting in the car and her friend mentioned that it was her and BF's anniversary at the end of the month, they've beeen going out for a year. The friend asked her if she would help them with their anniversary present and before EBD could reply the friend added but this will only work if you're open minded.

Now EBD is getting slightly nervous, she is a product of her environment which means God love her, she has had the diluted version of my upbringing (Irish Catholic , good girls don't, you reap what you sow, guilt etc) but with the addition of her fathers Scottish Presbytarianism (with the hint of Wee Free, Thou shalt not and most certainly not on a Sunday) and my added on, not quite fully understood but like the notion of stuff like Karma. It's fair to say that EBD is not the most open minded 18 year old you'll find, she's too feart of her mammy finding out.

The friend went on to say that as EBD does Media Studies at A2 level ( waste not your breath that it's not a real A level, we've had that conversation many many times, EBD can do my part verbatim and deadpan) and has made short films and has access to cameras and an editing suite etc, would EBD film friend and friends boyfriend having sex

Of course, the perfect anniversary gift, nothing says I love you more when you're 18 than a bit of home made porn.

Saturday, 10 April 2010

Welcome to my world

Entranced by this beautiful weather we, like every other family in the UK, decided to have a barbecue.

I took both the beautiful daughters to Sainsbury's so they could relieve me of £127 something (and there is nothing for tomorrows tea there at all) fleeced by daughters chucking stuff in with gay abandon. Eldest Beautiful daughter managed to spear her knee on a fork randomly left in my car and promptly fainted at the sight of the blood.
Bring EBD round drive home, unpack and try and find space for all the crap I've been hoodwinked into buying.

Beautiful Baby Daughter goes to give the garden table a wipe down, after such strenuous activity, she had to have a wee rest, so completely ignoring the 6 chairs around it, sits upon the table itself.

Cue smart arse son to quip in his old man Scottish voice...

"Think ye might need to drop a few pounds, hen"

I'm off to the pub with my friend Sixy for a gin or two, I feel the need.

Post Script - it's 11.30pm, I've returned from the pub after my 2 Bombay Sapphire's and was greeted by BBD at the door looking sheepish. First words she says to me... "Mummy, I've broken the ironing board"

Tomorrow, I'm keeping her in bed, I can't afford for her to get up.

Thursday, 8 April 2010

Things that have bemused my family this week

I went to The Burrell Collection, which is a great museum in Glasgow with my Gadget Mad Dad and TBS. I was very confused to see "The Thinker" by Auguste Rodin as I'd seen it the week previously in The Musee Rodin in Paris.

Out shopping in Glasgow BBD asked me if I knew the sales assistant who'd been chatting to us as she's serving us. My kids who've spent 10 years in England are still surprised that people talk to people they don't know when they don't have to.

On a scale of 1 to 10 how bad is it that I like playing with this? If it's around I can't help myself. The Beautiful Son's mate brought it back from Portugal as a present. It got a bit dirty the other day and TBS left it in the shower to be washed, it did surprise the Beautiful Baby Daughter somewhat. I was hailed with "Mummy there is a fake bosom in the shower"

Eldest Beautiful Daughter went to a party and at this party she met a girl who introduced herself thus..."Hi, I'm Siobahn but everybody calls me Shed" so EBD says "Hi, I'm Lara, everybody calls me Tent" She has no idea why she said it but she was called Tent for the rest of that night. I have a theory that cider plus the smart arse gene she inherited from me might be it.

After the same party EBD has a very large graze on her shoulder and it appears an inability to use doors when she's in her cups. After failing to open the front door, she assumed that we'd left keys in the back of the door (we hadn't), she tried the back door which did have keys in, and finally the conservatory where she managed to get in. She then couldn't open the door to the dining room to get into the main house and so went for a wee nap on the conservatory sofa. Which is where I found her an hour later when I got up. I put her back to bed (still drunk) and en route she was very puzzled by the front door and it's faulty lock. She doesn't remember my involvement in this at all.

Hot Boy and his band have just returned from a 5 night tour of Germany where they sold out 500 and 600 seat venues every night. They sold out of T shirts and CD's every night too. Their last gig in Nottingham sold 30 tickets and a CD.

Wednesday, 7 April 2010

The Beautiful Parents

My parents live in what my EBD calls "the place where technology comes to die" I might have mentioned before that I have a gadget mad dad. My dad has a penchant for buying the very latest in technology, I have no complaints that's how I got my very posh Tom Tom but it is guaranteed to annoy the EBD. In their house my parents have...

A 50 inch TV with surround sound and the all singing all dancing every channel going Sky package in the 2nd lounge. In the main lounge they have the plasma one that hangs on the wall like a picture and ditto both the bedrooms.

An Xbox 360 and a Wii, not forgetting a Gameboy, a PSP and a Nintendo DS, my dad will always buy the new version so he can play his "Who wants to be a Millionaire" game on it.

There are 2 Ipod Nano's, an Ipod classic and at least 3 other MP3 players. Not forgetting 2 Ipod touches, my mother has yet to use hers.

There is a replaced every year computer and a laptop because I foolishly pointed out they didn't need the router they'd bought as they only had a main pc, so obviously they needed the laptop to go with the router.

An Iphone and another fancy Samsung touch screen phone which he bought for my mother. She has yet to take it out it's box as she still has £7 credit on her old phone and she wants to use it up first, that'll take her a decade or so. This is really ripping EBD's knitting as her phone is so old it doesn't even have a camera on it and it switches it's self off every hour or so when it's tired and needs a wee rest.

So you get the picture, their house is stuffed full of technology that they don't use to it's full potential. This pains my daughter muchly, she is so jealous of all the clicky finger gadgetry at their disposal that they don't use. Actually she is jealous of them being pensioners which she thinks would be a dream life, getting up and going to bed when you like, no work or studying and no one making derisory and smart arse comments when you want a wee afternoon nap.

Every year my parents spend 2 weeks in May at The Beautiful House in Turkey and every year I tell them to book flights online as it's cheaper. Last year we had the saga where I booked the flights for them online. This year as I'm with them I offer to book the flights on their computer while they're with me and I get a flat no, the last time was stressful enough and the company I used has since gone bust (way after they had flown home).

They will use a travel agent thank you very much, so I leave it and go back to my house and you know what's coming next, don't you? Cue my mother calling in a state of high agitation (my mum is getting extremely anxious as she gets older and me being a smart arse is a real trial for her) The travel agent can't get them on the Wednesday flight they want, can I?

Sure, I've now become God of all flights, I had left the flight details I found for them written down so they could tell the travel agent what they wanted and how much it cost online but she has to try and type in the site and find the same flights, I then spend an hour trying to talk my mother through the online booking process as I have no Internet access, so every screen has to be described and explained, we find flights, she's still agitated but by the time we get to the checkout someone else has bought the last 2 flights.

My mother just about explodes but has to leave as she has a dentist's appointment and she's trying to impress the new dentist (she has a new dentist because she got barred from her last one, yep, that's right Mrs Stresshead fell out with the hygienist over the hygienist's poor opinion of my mothers electric toothbrush which was, of course, a present from gadget mad dad and my mother refused to see the hygienist and this caused a bit of argy bargy so the dentists have asked her to leave) How can I have a mother who's been barred from a dentist? Who has ever been barred from a dentist? Ever, in the whole history of the world?

As soon as she's gone my dad rings and asks me to book the flights myself, I do, in 4 minutes and I send him the email confirmation. Of course their printer doesn't work, actually neither does mine, I know my mother will die unless she has those printed off tickets in her hand so I email EBD's boyfriend Hot Boy and he prints off a copy and posts to my mum, going for the belt and braces approach I ask the ex mr auntiegwen to do the same.

So by the time you read this my stress head of a mother will have 2 copies of her tickets and the next hurdle in this saga will be the inputting of the e border passport information, which will have to be saved for another day as I can't cope with her when she speaks in that tone only dogs can hear.

Monday, 5 April 2010

Conversations with my niece.

My sister has 2 daughters Abbie is aged 8 and Alanah is 7. Abbie is a goody two shoes and Alanah has character, I like this muchly, my sister less so.

When I go back home to visit Abbie loves to tell me how naughty Alanah has been, I ask Alanah on a scale of 1 to 10, she usually goes for a 6. I love this level of honesty. Alanah and I have big long chats about what's going on in her world, she has THE most Glaswegian accent and she makes me scream inside with laughter when she fills me in on the highs and lows. This is what I've found out, I have all the gossip on primary 3...

Alanah has her name put under the big cloud with tears dripping from it more often than it goes under the smiling sun.

Alanah lost her whole golden time because she bit Yasmin Cassidy.

Caitlin McNie needs a hanky, her nose is always snotty and it gives Alanah "the dry boke"

Andrew Moss has tried to steal her pencil sharpener twice and tried to kiss her once and this "pure annoyed" her.

Yasmin Cassidy "thinks she's it" and this doesn't please Alanah.

Courtney Campbell and Yasmin Cassidy along with Lara Taylor wouldn't let Alanah join their club but Alanah doesn't care because "it's a stupit club anywey"

Alanah and her friend Carly-Jean and Carly-Jean's twin brother John-Henry set up their own club and they won't let Yasmin Cassidy, Courtney Campbell or Lara Taylor join.

The first rule of Alanah's club is be kind to everybody. The second rule is let anybody join your club!

I love Alanah.

Thursday, 1 April 2010

The Mother Country

Today I will drive 320 miles to go home. I love going back to The Mother Country not only because I get see my mother and of course gadget mad dad but because it will always be my home. Alba an Aigh.

I have the giddy delights of 3 teenagers squashed into my very small car and 1 of them will be hungover. 2 of them will bicker but with a bit of luck and plugged into their ipods, they will sleep.

But it will, as it always is, worth it.

All together now...

Well I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more.