Well hello there, I can't believe that the computer nazi who hates my blog has popped out and left my blog open, after 9 months of access denied flashed across the screen I was stunned when I logged on as I have done a few times a week, every week for the last 9 months and I wasn't told to feck off. I wonder if anyone is still here, all this time after my last post, jeez, I have made humans quicker than this!
I feel like I should have a note from my mother explaining my absence, like at school, so
Dear readers
I am so sorry that auntiegwen hasn't doen her blog for the last 9 months. She apologises for any inconveneience caused by the lack of tales of the beautiful children, her general failure of life stuff and the ongoing struggle to give up cake. Genuinely this wasn't her fault, as her broadband is paid for by her employers and when they changed provider, Blogger was banned, The Book of Face stayed but no blogger.
She has no idea if she will be allowed back on anytime soon, so make a nice wee cup of tea and sit back and read on.
So where to begin, updates mibbe?
Eldest Beautiful Daughter
Is now in her 3rd year at uni, only 6 months left really as dissertation due in on April twenty something but we don't talk about that as real life still scares her. Finally, Glory be to God in the highest, she has a job, in a pub, and all the barmaids look like her, same size, long dark hair, nope not creeped out by that at all. All good with the EBD. She's still with Hot Boy but we see him so much less now she has a job but he's grand anyway.
The Beautiful Son
Doing his last year of A levels, still talking in his old man Scottish accent, still on the drunk paper rounds, spending most weekends looking at uni's, bit taller, still completely able to annoy his sisters to Olympic standard. New addition is a 1980's Adidas trackie top usually worn with a bobble hat but plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose.
Beautiful Baby Daughter
Is killing me, Jesus, Mary and Holy St Joseph, she is out teening the world, it's not a blog post long it's an advert for contraception and I've no cake or gin to hand. She is queen of the eye rolling, sighs and disdain. Her hair has been pink, green (that was an accident, t'was meant to be blue), blue, pink again and now black. She looks like a scary member of bananarama. She remains unimpressed with everything connected to her family, no one understands her except her friends and life is just so shit for her. I do understand her, she wants to have her own way in everything and do nothing for anyone blood related to her in return and have NO personal responsibility for anything. If anyone is having that gig, it's me, I've earned it.
The Beautiful Parents
Slightly more dottery than before, dad still gadget mad, mother more forgetful but still with us, Glory be to God.
My sister
Is definitely having a baby, My new nephew will be born on October 24th. Despite having no money, nowhere to put a baby, becoming diabetic and having to have insulin, having such high blood pressure she can't do anything etc etc, my sister after 8 years of trying and several miscarriages is deleriously happy. And so she should be.
and me?
Well, I'm just grand. Still fond of the cake and the gin. Still bewildered by life most of the time, still trying (and mainly failing) to keep some kind of control of the children, but still here and still happy with my lot. Only new stuff in the last 9 months has been a slight addiction to Emma Bridgewater black toast range and house porn. I have decorated the hall, stairs and landing and the lounge in the same pinky, greyey beigey shade I painted my bedroom, oh don't give out to me, I have no energy for imagination. I am slightly obsessed with Etsy now and finding
a - a shabby chic type shoe cupboard for the hall
b - a shabby chic type very small, narrow bookcase for the landing that I can display things on ala Kettles Yard
and
c - a pair of nude killer heels for a posh do I'm going to at New year.
I have also managed to keep some orchids alive for some 6 months and I am running again.
If you are still here reading, good girl yourself, you deserve some cake or gin for that and many thanks to the people who emailed, texted, got in touch some other way to ask if I was okay. I was/am.
Hopefully, I'll be back before another 9 months.
Thursday, 11 October 2012
Saturday, 28 January 2012
Isn't it strange
... how years after your precious baby has learned to sleep through the night, at weekends you are sometimes still kept awake and pacing the floor by them? Or rather you are kept awake by pacing the floor waiting for them to get home. I'm not pacing the floor with a slightly inebriated 6 foot 3 lump of useless upon my shoulder, that would be silly. Not to mention, difficult.
... and how there is a mummy and son phone failure after midnight? O2 and BlackBerry should really get on that. My son never gets any of the texts or calls I make that start around 1am and continue at 15 minute intervals, they all arrive together once he is on his walk home. It really is most peculiar.
... not to mention that my hearing is also impaired on these kind of nights. He is definitely not slurring his words. I am just getting old and deaf.
... that even though it's 3.30am he isn't late, if I don't tell him each time he uses the front door what time his arse is expected back through it, he's not late, he's curfew free. Despite the fact we have these conversations at least fortnightly and the weekend and school holiday curfew always has been, is now and shall remain 1am.
... I am the only Mummy in the world that is concerned about what time their teenager gets home and how much they've had to drink and what effect all this partaaaying has on their health, not to mention their A levels. Apparently no one else's parents care. I am clearly quite deranged through lack of fun in my own life.
...that I worry so much about my child, when he is ALWAYS the most sober one there. He is never as bad as Johnny/Craig/Rachel/Mel and in this instance Imran.
...that I am not proud of my child's public spiritedness and caring nature, clearly he is late home because he is looking after Johnny/Craig/Rachel/Mel and in this case, Imran.
... that genuinely he appears sorry that I am awake but he continues in his mad notion that it is a choice for me to stay awake and worry. Trust me son, I would so much rather be in my warm bed asleep than pacing and worrying. I look like a caricature of a 1970's wife waiting on a husband's return from the pub, I have the dressing gown and sheepskin slippers off to a tee, only the curlers and fag dangling from my lip are missing.
... and now he is fast asleep in bed and I am still awake, and I would lay money on the fact that as soon as I get to sleep, I will be awakened a minute later when his 6am paper round alarm goes off.
... that I still love him. And some days or more factually 3,30 am's that can be slighly more of a challenge.
... and how there is a mummy and son phone failure after midnight? O2 and BlackBerry should really get on that. My son never gets any of the texts or calls I make that start around 1am and continue at 15 minute intervals, they all arrive together once he is on his walk home. It really is most peculiar.
... not to mention that my hearing is also impaired on these kind of nights. He is definitely not slurring his words. I am just getting old and deaf.
... that even though it's 3.30am he isn't late, if I don't tell him each time he uses the front door what time his arse is expected back through it, he's not late, he's curfew free. Despite the fact we have these conversations at least fortnightly and the weekend and school holiday curfew always has been, is now and shall remain 1am.
... I am the only Mummy in the world that is concerned about what time their teenager gets home and how much they've had to drink and what effect all this partaaaying has on their health, not to mention their A levels. Apparently no one else's parents care. I am clearly quite deranged through lack of fun in my own life.
...that I worry so much about my child, when he is ALWAYS the most sober one there. He is never as bad as Johnny/Craig/Rachel/Mel and in this instance Imran.
...that I am not proud of my child's public spiritedness and caring nature, clearly he is late home because he is looking after Johnny/Craig/Rachel/Mel and in this case, Imran.
... that genuinely he appears sorry that I am awake but he continues in his mad notion that it is a choice for me to stay awake and worry. Trust me son, I would so much rather be in my warm bed asleep than pacing and worrying. I look like a caricature of a 1970's wife waiting on a husband's return from the pub, I have the dressing gown and sheepskin slippers off to a tee, only the curlers and fag dangling from my lip are missing.
... and now he is fast asleep in bed and I am still awake, and I would lay money on the fact that as soon as I get to sleep, I will be awakened a minute later when his 6am paper round alarm goes off.
... that I still love him. And some days or more factually 3,30 am's that can be slighly more of a challenge.
Wednesday, 11 January 2012
Things I still don't understand the 2012 remix
Hello my lovely readers, a very happy 2012 to you all. Vaguely bemused and confused auntie service is logging on for 2012, in fact this is my 5th Bloggiversary, auntie has been having her say since 2007!!!!
So much has changed in those 5 years, looking back at the photos I see how much my kids have grown and sadly how much I have too :( I used to be a very thin auntie, now I look like I ate the 2007 auntie.
Still, selfless and public spirited to my very core, here I am again, making you feel better about your own life. Ta da - let me present to you - things that still I don't understand...
Why every Hogmanay (December 31st for those of you who are not the chosen ones) I go mental cleaning my house. It has to be spotlessly clean and tidy by midnight so it stays clean and tidy the whole year. It does work, my house is spotlessly clean and tidy every year, on December 31st. The other 364 days it reverts to it's usual slum conditions.
Why there is no real difference between my son and my best friends 5 year old son except height.
How I was expected to keep a straight face when the lovely 5 year old explained how you tell boy dogs from girl dogs - to whit "they have a chubby bit down below, near the back that swing when they walk"
Why BBD put a dark brown colour in her gorgeous titian hair bacause she was called ginger then decided to dye her hair RED, a RED that could be seen from space, not a RED found in any place other than her hair and a child's paintbox.
How all I ever write about are my children and am I ever thought of as a mummy blogger? am I feck. No one ever sends me lovely free stuff to write about, all together now, poor poor auntie
Thanking you all most kindly for reading, for me it's been a great 5 years, I wonder if I'll be here for another 5? Who knows? please feel free to have some cake, it's most yummy and calorie free, what more could you ask for?
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
A wee present from your auntie
Have you had a good Christmas? Are you now feeling a wee bit low and full of food and all shopped out?
Fear not, auntie is here with a little bit of post festive cheer. Courtesy of Hot Boy
Now you're feeling a lot more cheery aren't you?
You're welcome.
Fear not, auntie is here with a little bit of post festive cheer. Courtesy of Hot Boy
Now you're feeling a lot more cheery aren't you?
You're welcome.
Monday, 19 December 2011
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
In which The Beautiful Children sulk
Well, to be accurate only the 2 that live with me are sulking, the quiet in the house is lovely. The one who doesn't live with me is still at university and still loves me. Maybe that's the reason.
Do you need a HUGE MIDDLE AGED WOMAN ALERT. A RANTIE AUNTIE WARNING?
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin. Or if you want to, you can click away now and come back when normal vaguely bemused auntie service resumes, I'll still love you.
Like many of us, I have a job and children and household chores to do, I have grocery shopping (not nice lady things shopping) and laundry, I have children to drive to many lovely clubs and activities and social engagements, funded by me (of course), I have Christmas presents to buy and wrap, I have cards to write and post, I have a tree to put up and decorate, I am a busy auntie at all times of year, at this time of year I take busy to the max.
Usually, I do this with a side order of low level grumbling that is ignored or the children will pat me and say "poor Mummy" and then go back to ignoring me.
This week however, I am less grumbly and more cross.
I am as cross as I can be.
I have taken agin the children's selfishness. Both children. Especially on the subject of household chores. They think that if it is a chore then it's my job to do it.
I have taken agin The Beautiful Son's smart arse remarks on Twitter.
I have taken agin Beautiful Baby Daughter's back chatting and always having to be right.
I have taken agin their bedrooms, they should be rolled in foam and dealt with by the Royal engineers. Scientists would be queuing up to take samples, they are truly hideous.
I have taken agin The Beautiful Son's wandering in at whatever time he pleases and bringing people with him.
I have taken agin Beautiful Baby daughter's tone and eye rolling when conversing with me.
I have taken agin The Beautiful Son's can't be arsed attitude to school, voluntary work for D of E and anything that doesn't involve mates and alcohol.
I have taken agin most things except gin and cake. Gin and cake remain more than acceptable.
So, I have shouted and stropped and I have made them tidy their bedroom, they have to be Mummy tidy (this scares them, I can be ferociously houseproud when I'm on one)
I have explained that if they are living under my roof then things have to go my way. I am in charge. This is non negotiable. They have to attempt to be regular humans, pitch in with chores, don't backchat me, work harder at school and party less.
They have been grounded for a week.
The Beautiful Son's Crackberry, IPOD touch, laptop and XBox controllers are in the boot of my car. The internet router plug is living in my handbag. If I had room for the TV it would be removed as well.
I am not doing any laundry or chores at all, if they need something doing they will need to do it ALL BY THEIR OWN SELVES.
I am not being a human alarm clock, they are having to get themselves up for their paper rounds and when they oversleep thay are having to explain why to their bosses and get told off for it.
When asked at the last minute for lunch money, instead of driving to the cashpoint, as would be my wont, I say "sorry, I didn't go to the cashpoint, you'll have to take sandwiches from home"
In short, I am doing what my Dad advised me to do, go on strike.
The ex mrauntigwen is looking after them (very kindly, he rearranged his life to let me have a night off at very short notice) so I am off here today, to Kilworth House Hotel for a lovely Christmas dinner and sleep in a posh hotel with 5 lovely friends who are becoming my family. I will use the gym, have an afternoon nap, read my book, have a treatment in the salon. I am having a rest.
I may even spend their lunch money on a bottle of champagne.
Do you need a HUGE MIDDLE AGED WOMAN ALERT. A RANTIE AUNTIE WARNING?
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin. Or if you want to, you can click away now and come back when normal vaguely bemused auntie service resumes, I'll still love you.
Like many of us, I have a job and children and household chores to do, I have grocery shopping (not nice lady things shopping) and laundry, I have children to drive to many lovely clubs and activities and social engagements, funded by me (of course), I have Christmas presents to buy and wrap, I have cards to write and post, I have a tree to put up and decorate, I am a busy auntie at all times of year, at this time of year I take busy to the max.
Usually, I do this with a side order of low level grumbling that is ignored or the children will pat me and say "poor Mummy" and then go back to ignoring me.
This week however, I am less grumbly and more cross.
I am as cross as I can be.
I have taken agin the children's selfishness. Both children. Especially on the subject of household chores. They think that if it is a chore then it's my job to do it.
I have taken agin The Beautiful Son's smart arse remarks on Twitter.
I have taken agin Beautiful Baby Daughter's back chatting and always having to be right.
I have taken agin their bedrooms, they should be rolled in foam and dealt with by the Royal engineers. Scientists would be queuing up to take samples, they are truly hideous.
I have taken agin The Beautiful Son's wandering in at whatever time he pleases and bringing people with him.
I have taken agin Beautiful Baby daughter's tone and eye rolling when conversing with me.
I have taken agin The Beautiful Son's can't be arsed attitude to school, voluntary work for D of E and anything that doesn't involve mates and alcohol.
I have taken agin most things except gin and cake. Gin and cake remain more than acceptable.
So, I have shouted and stropped and I have made them tidy their bedroom, they have to be Mummy tidy (this scares them, I can be ferociously houseproud when I'm on one)
I have explained that if they are living under my roof then things have to go my way. I am in charge. This is non negotiable. They have to attempt to be regular humans, pitch in with chores, don't backchat me, work harder at school and party less.
They have been grounded for a week.
The Beautiful Son's Crackberry, IPOD touch, laptop and XBox controllers are in the boot of my car. The internet router plug is living in my handbag. If I had room for the TV it would be removed as well.
I am not doing any laundry or chores at all, if they need something doing they will need to do it ALL BY THEIR OWN SELVES.
I am not being a human alarm clock, they are having to get themselves up for their paper rounds and when they oversleep thay are having to explain why to their bosses and get told off for it.
When asked at the last minute for lunch money, instead of driving to the cashpoint, as would be my wont, I say "sorry, I didn't go to the cashpoint, you'll have to take sandwiches from home"
In short, I am doing what my Dad advised me to do, go on strike.
The ex mrauntigwen is looking after them (very kindly, he rearranged his life to let me have a night off at very short notice) so I am off here today, to Kilworth House Hotel for a lovely Christmas dinner and sleep in a posh hotel with 5 lovely friends who are becoming my family. I will use the gym, have an afternoon nap, read my book, have a treatment in the salon. I am having a rest.
I may even spend their lunch money on a bottle of champagne.
Sunday, 11 December 2011
Things that have confused your auntie this week...
To be fair, I could have been doing this every single week for the 5 years I've had this blog, I am, far too often, perplexed by life. But this week has been particularly bemusing to me. In no particular order, I give you
I have lost 1 pair of navy trousers, the top that goes with them and a very nice Dimity So bra.
I found a mince pie wrapped in a napkin in the front pocket of my handbag.
This morning The Beautiful Son's phone alarm went off at 6am, how come my children can sleep through an alarm that is inches from their ear when I can hear it from another room?
How come my children can only get up if only the human alarm clock that is their mummy comes in and wakes them?
How come my son was not in his bed but asleep on the sofa under the duvet he'd taken off his bed and wearing a ladies Primark zebra print onesie?
How come when I woke up a bit later and proceeded downstairs for the Sunday Times and the first of the coffees that would fortify my day, I met The Beautiful Son's ex girlfriend dressed in a fur coat (are they back in vogue?) and leaving very quietly?
How come I didn't notice there were 2 bodies under the duvet 2 hours earlier?
Miss Marple isn't too worried about me stealing her job, is she?
I have lost 1 pair of navy trousers, the top that goes with them and a very nice Dimity So bra.
I found a mince pie wrapped in a napkin in the front pocket of my handbag.
This morning The Beautiful Son's phone alarm went off at 6am, how come my children can sleep through an alarm that is inches from their ear when I can hear it from another room?
How come my children can only get up if only the human alarm clock that is their mummy comes in and wakes them?
How come my son was not in his bed but asleep on the sofa under the duvet he'd taken off his bed and wearing a ladies Primark zebra print onesie?
How come when I woke up a bit later and proceeded downstairs for the Sunday Times and the first of the coffees that would fortify my day, I met The Beautiful Son's ex girlfriend dressed in a fur coat (are they back in vogue?) and leaving very quietly?
How come I didn't notice there were 2 bodies under the duvet 2 hours earlier?
Miss Marple isn't too worried about me stealing her job, is she?
Friday, 9 December 2011
In which the Beautiful Baby Daughter makes her point
The Beautiful Baby Daughter had a maths test yesterday.
She was not best pleased. Not about the test, she is a well prepared child, unlike the other 2 work shy articles I've reared.
In fact, she was so displeased she wrote this at the end of her test paper
Dear Mr Badmathsteacher
I am writing this note to tell you that I am cross with you. In this maths test, there have been 19 out of 57 available marks that I have not been able to achieve.
This is because you have not taught me how to get these 19 marks. As you are a maths teacher you will know that this amounts to over a third of the total paper.
This will reflect badly on me as a student but it should reflect badly on you as you as a teacher as you have failed to do what you are paid to do. If you spent more time teaching us and less time in the maths staff room we would not be having to have this conversation.
Yours sincerely
Beautiful Baby Daughter
I wonder if I should warn Mr Badmathsteacher that you upset the BBD at your peril, I mean before he knows it, she'll be the head of that school and she'll be using him to put her feet up on after he's made her a cup of coffee and cleaned her car.
She was not best pleased. Not about the test, she is a well prepared child, unlike the other 2 work shy articles I've reared.
In fact, she was so displeased she wrote this at the end of her test paper
Dear Mr Badmathsteacher
I am writing this note to tell you that I am cross with you. In this maths test, there have been 19 out of 57 available marks that I have not been able to achieve.
This is because you have not taught me how to get these 19 marks. As you are a maths teacher you will know that this amounts to over a third of the total paper.
This will reflect badly on me as a student but it should reflect badly on you as you as a teacher as you have failed to do what you are paid to do. If you spent more time teaching us and less time in the maths staff room we would not be having to have this conversation.
Yours sincerely
Beautiful Baby Daughter
I wonder if I should warn Mr Badmathsteacher that you upset the BBD at your peril, I mean before he knows it, she'll be the head of that school and she'll be using him to put her feet up on after he's made her a cup of coffee and cleaned her car.
Monday, 5 December 2011
In which I make a holy show of myself in Debenhams
Yesterday the family von auntiegwen had to go into town. Now, en masse this is not such a good idea, if we go in two's it seems to work better and we have a remote chance of getting done what we set out to do. So, I get The Beautiful Son (because no one else will have him) and off we go. This is our list
Christmas jumper - Jack
Chino's 30 waist 34 leg (hard to get, it appears every man in Leicester is short) - Jack
New shoes - clown size - Jack
John Bishop DVD - Lucy
Flat boots - me
We whizz round in record time, that is the joy of shopping with a boy, he will accept any clothes that fit him in the first shop you find. Whilst we are in Debenhams I see a Virgin travel agency so I think while we are waiting for the others we will go and get a quote for our Easter trip to Florida. I haven't used a travel agent since 1998, I source flights and accomodation myself but I think I'll just get a quote, they may be able to get me a better deal.
Whilst we are waiting I ask TBS what he thinks it will cost for us to go, at the moment there are 3 adults, 2 teens and a child so if you want to come with us, let me know quick before I get booked. TBS reckons it will cost £2,500, I so wished he would be right, I didn't laugh outright then, it's unkind to crush a young man's dreams.
The nice Virgin lady takes all the details, I have my dates, I know how many people, I am so careful that we will be back for April 15th when BBD gets to see McFly, not only does she get to the concert she gets to meet them too, this is thrillingly exciting for her, a bit problematic re dates for me, and a real ball ache for her brother who thinks we should just book whenever we please, after all he had to miss MGMT because it clashed with a flight.
The nice Virgin lady tells me they have no villas left for rent, no 3, 4 or 5 bed villas. I ask for a quote for flights.
She can't get me back on an economy flight, TBS tells her not to worry, just book premium economy, it's only money says he, he's quite enamoured of the free champagne and the food served on real plates, I tell her to change the dates. As his paper round won't even cover the airport parking.
So, I get a quote for 6 flights, going for 11 days instead of 14. Guess how much?
Scroll down, get a bit of anticipation going
£7,937
again £7937
for economy flights. No villa, no car, just flights.
I did actually laugh, for quite a long time and my pelvic floor's not what it was (apologies for the TMI)
The nice Virgin lady explains that it's because they have sold the first allocation of seats, so they charge more for the next ones. In the brochure, they give you a guide price of £575 per villa per week, £969 fly drive per adult, £799 per child and £899 per teen, total cost £6654 which is still a huge amount for a holiday. Now when it says that in the brochure I think give or take a few hundred that's what it should cost, I'd be mighty miffed if I was buying a skirt in Marks and Spencer and it said £40 on the price ticket and when I got to the check out they said "oh it's gone up to £100 as that's the second batch we've ordered as it's so popular"
And also it's because I am going in peak season school holidays, that old favourite, get me taking kids to Disneyland in the school holidays, what a weirdo.
She advised me to go and try Virgin Atlantic directly as it'd be cheaper.
So I'm in a travel agents and they advise me to do it myself, marvellous.
PS - I found (on t'internets, all by my very own self) the flights she couldn't get me back on so the full 14 days, an executive (ooh get us, how very posh) 4 bed villa with private pool and games room, a 7 seater people carrier plus insurance and the grand total was £6930, a grand cheaper than I was quoted just for flights.
I can't think why travel agents are having such a hard time, can you?
PPS - I have refrained from tweeting #PRrequest about this (apparently bloggers can actually ask for stuff to review, although how I'd get it back to them would be the tricky part) but if any travel company would like the considered opinions of my good self and the beautiful children, please get in touch soonest, I will blog all the live long day about this trip, and I'd only be too happy, nae delighticated to tell the lovely readers about your kindest of kind offers.
Christmas jumper - Jack
Chino's 30 waist 34 leg (hard to get, it appears every man in Leicester is short) - Jack
New shoes - clown size - Jack
John Bishop DVD - Lucy
Flat boots - me
We whizz round in record time, that is the joy of shopping with a boy, he will accept any clothes that fit him in the first shop you find. Whilst we are in Debenhams I see a Virgin travel agency so I think while we are waiting for the others we will go and get a quote for our Easter trip to Florida. I haven't used a travel agent since 1998, I source flights and accomodation myself but I think I'll just get a quote, they may be able to get me a better deal.
Whilst we are waiting I ask TBS what he thinks it will cost for us to go, at the moment there are 3 adults, 2 teens and a child so if you want to come with us, let me know quick before I get booked. TBS reckons it will cost £2,500, I so wished he would be right, I didn't laugh outright then, it's unkind to crush a young man's dreams.
The nice Virgin lady takes all the details, I have my dates, I know how many people, I am so careful that we will be back for April 15th when BBD gets to see McFly, not only does she get to the concert she gets to meet them too, this is thrillingly exciting for her, a bit problematic re dates for me, and a real ball ache for her brother who thinks we should just book whenever we please, after all he had to miss MGMT because it clashed with a flight.
The nice Virgin lady tells me they have no villas left for rent, no 3, 4 or 5 bed villas. I ask for a quote for flights.
She can't get me back on an economy flight, TBS tells her not to worry, just book premium economy, it's only money says he, he's quite enamoured of the free champagne and the food served on real plates, I tell her to change the dates. As his paper round won't even cover the airport parking.
So, I get a quote for 6 flights, going for 11 days instead of 14. Guess how much?
Scroll down, get a bit of anticipation going
£7,937
again £7937
for economy flights. No villa, no car, just flights.
I did actually laugh, for quite a long time and my pelvic floor's not what it was (apologies for the TMI)
The nice Virgin lady explains that it's because they have sold the first allocation of seats, so they charge more for the next ones. In the brochure, they give you a guide price of £575 per villa per week, £969 fly drive per adult, £799 per child and £899 per teen, total cost £6654 which is still a huge amount for a holiday. Now when it says that in the brochure I think give or take a few hundred that's what it should cost, I'd be mighty miffed if I was buying a skirt in Marks and Spencer and it said £40 on the price ticket and when I got to the check out they said "oh it's gone up to £100 as that's the second batch we've ordered as it's so popular"
And also it's because I am going in peak season school holidays, that old favourite, get me taking kids to Disneyland in the school holidays, what a weirdo.
She advised me to go and try Virgin Atlantic directly as it'd be cheaper.
So I'm in a travel agents and they advise me to do it myself, marvellous.
PS - I found (on t'internets, all by my very own self) the flights she couldn't get me back on so the full 14 days, an executive (ooh get us, how very posh) 4 bed villa with private pool and games room, a 7 seater people carrier plus insurance and the grand total was £6930, a grand cheaper than I was quoted just for flights.
I can't think why travel agents are having such a hard time, can you?
PPS - I have refrained from tweeting #PRrequest about this (apparently bloggers can actually ask for stuff to review, although how I'd get it back to them would be the tricky part) but if any travel company would like the considered opinions of my good self and the beautiful children, please get in touch soonest, I will blog all the live long day about this trip, and I'd only be too happy, nae delighticated to tell the lovely readers about your kindest of kind offers.
Thursday, 1 December 2011
I should have known
When you are setting an alarm that begins with the digits 05, you kinda think it's not going to be your best of days.
When you're are driving 90 odd miles north to Skegness at the end of November, you have a notion it's not going to be your best of days.
When someone hits your borrowed car from behind, you officially know
When your neck aches and bizarrely your tooth really hurts and you still have to drive another 80 miles, you are really getting the message
When you spend 2 hours on the phone to insurance companies and brokers and accident repair people and the people who's car you have borrowed, you have got the point loud and clear thank you very much.
When you receive not just 1 but 2 calls from personal injury people, wanting you to sue the poor person who bumped you, you get a tad tetchy
When you have to cancel your trip to see "Wicked" at the theatre because it's taken all too long to sort out and you just don't feel in a going out sort of mood, you feel crap, because you know you are disappointing your Beautiful Baby Daughter, who was really looking forward to a trip to London and a show and some mummy time
When it is time to kiss the day goodbye, you are so very, very glad that it's over
When you're are driving 90 odd miles north to Skegness at the end of November, you have a notion it's not going to be your best of days.
When someone hits your borrowed car from behind, you officially know
When your neck aches and bizarrely your tooth really hurts and you still have to drive another 80 miles, you are really getting the message
When you spend 2 hours on the phone to insurance companies and brokers and accident repair people and the people who's car you have borrowed, you have got the point loud and clear thank you very much.
When you receive not just 1 but 2 calls from personal injury people, wanting you to sue the poor person who bumped you, you get a tad tetchy
When you have to cancel your trip to see "Wicked" at the theatre because it's taken all too long to sort out and you just don't feel in a going out sort of mood, you feel crap, because you know you are disappointing your Beautiful Baby Daughter, who was really looking forward to a trip to London and a show and some mummy time
When it is time to kiss the day goodbye, you are so very, very glad that it's over
Monday, 28 November 2011
Really, my guilty pleasure
I have been watching a startling amount of television recently. This is a new thing for me, I used to be out running, going to gigs and flirting with strange men in bars, I had no time to waste on TV, truth be told, I was a little bit showy offy about not watching it.
Not now, oh no siree bob, I have embraced the telly like I would David Tennant. Nothing makes you auntie happier that her arse on the sofa and full charge of the remote control. I even have a special blanket now, not quite the one with arms that have a special name I've forgotten but a nice snuggly blanket to add to my viewing pleasure. Throw in a bag of maltesers and the aunties wee cup of happiness overfloweth. In twitterati #iknowhowtopaartaay.
I also have to say, the more crap the programme, the more I like it, I am mocked on a daily basis for my programme choices but I care not a jot, I lie there, mouth crammed with maltesers and tissues at the ready, a lot of my telly porn involves cheap emotion, sobbing is my chief exercise at the moment. The more mawkish the emotion, the better, channel 20 is ace for this, Sometimes you can watch "Extreme makeover - House edition", " Don't tell the bride" and "Bridezillas" on the same day - just frickin awesome.
For crap telly virgins EMHE is American, they come and build a house in a week for people who have had the most awful times, death/fire/major health problems etc, sometimes even in the same family. The house is always amazing and huge and free, they don't do aunties new kitchens apparently. Oh that's a regular 2 hanky job.
DTTB - is British, they give a groom and his best man £12,000 and they get to plan a wedding in 3 weeks and the bride just turns up, the best man has to be quite odd for best effects. This always usually turns out well and is a wee discreet tear "aawh don't they look lovely" job
Bridezillas is mental - very stressed, cross, shouty, screaming women who are quite clearly unhinged and in need of a good slap who make everyone unhappy. They're American, I'm sure you could film British ones though. This doesn't make me cry but I scream at the telly a bit and slobber malteser goo down myself though.
Add in X Factor (God, that Janet bored me to death, I know she was reallly young and I'm sure she's a lovely wean but I was getting right fed up with her), Living with the Amish (what nice, no one is going to punch your son in the face trying to steal his Crackberry on a Saturday night, yep, did happen but The Beautiful son is fine and still has his phone) and the Trinny and Susannah thing in Australia (lots of women who've been very busy being wives and mummies and quite often being ill as well to be all dressed up and glamorous every day to boot)
So, there you have it, I've fessed it up, my name is auntiegwen and I'm addicted to crap telly, am I on my own? what do you watch that you're secretly ashamed of? Not that I'm looking for ideas of more telly to watch because I'm middle aged and have no life, not at all, merely offering you the chance to feel oh so much better about your own life.
Selfless to my very core.
Not now, oh no siree bob, I have embraced the telly like I would David Tennant. Nothing makes you auntie happier that her arse on the sofa and full charge of the remote control. I even have a special blanket now, not quite the one with arms that have a special name I've forgotten but a nice snuggly blanket to add to my viewing pleasure. Throw in a bag of maltesers and the aunties wee cup of happiness overfloweth. In twitterati #iknowhowtopaartaay.
I also have to say, the more crap the programme, the more I like it, I am mocked on a daily basis for my programme choices but I care not a jot, I lie there, mouth crammed with maltesers and tissues at the ready, a lot of my telly porn involves cheap emotion, sobbing is my chief exercise at the moment. The more mawkish the emotion, the better, channel 20 is ace for this, Sometimes you can watch "Extreme makeover - House edition", " Don't tell the bride" and "Bridezillas" on the same day - just frickin awesome.
For crap telly virgins EMHE is American, they come and build a house in a week for people who have had the most awful times, death/fire/major health problems etc, sometimes even in the same family. The house is always amazing and huge and free, they don't do aunties new kitchens apparently. Oh that's a regular 2 hanky job.
DTTB - is British, they give a groom and his best man £12,000 and they get to plan a wedding in 3 weeks and the bride just turns up, the best man has to be quite odd for best effects. This always usually turns out well and is a wee discreet tear "aawh don't they look lovely" job
Bridezillas is mental - very stressed, cross, shouty, screaming women who are quite clearly unhinged and in need of a good slap who make everyone unhappy. They're American, I'm sure you could film British ones though. This doesn't make me cry but I scream at the telly a bit and slobber malteser goo down myself though.
Add in X Factor (God, that Janet bored me to death, I know she was reallly young and I'm sure she's a lovely wean but I was getting right fed up with her), Living with the Amish (what nice, no one is going to punch your son in the face trying to steal his Crackberry on a Saturday night, yep, did happen but The Beautiful son is fine and still has his phone) and the Trinny and Susannah thing in Australia (lots of women who've been very busy being wives and mummies and quite often being ill as well to be all dressed up and glamorous every day to boot)
So, there you have it, I've fessed it up, my name is auntiegwen and I'm addicted to crap telly, am I on my own? what do you watch that you're secretly ashamed of? Not that I'm looking for ideas of more telly to watch because I'm middle aged and have no life, not at all, merely offering you the chance to feel oh so much better about your own life.
Selfless to my very core.
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
Ah, that explains it
I love my children, truly I do, despite offering to send them to live with other bloggers regularly, clearly I only do that so I can share their wonderfullness with the world.
Ahem.
I have been a Mummy for a very long time and I think I have a fair opinion of my offspring (I did type fruit of my loins but I had to delete it, it grossed even me out) I am not one of the showy offy type mummies, I do not regale others of my childs academic achievements overly much, I don't make you listen to their musical offerings or insist you peruse their artistic endeavours. I am much more likely to share their WTF moments. I am most definitely not the parent who thinks their child is the new Messiah, I am fairly realistic of their good and bad points.
Last night was parents evening at Beautiful Baby Daughter's school, this is the same school I used to teach at, so when they are talking to me, I know exactly what they are trying to say, there is no point in putting high heels and lipstick on it, I get told straight. This is not a big worry really as BBD has not inherited the "can't be arsed" gene, she has always been the sort that pushes herself and gets involved in everything, she's not naughty and she goes every day so parents evening throws up few surprises usually.
Her form tutor went through her interim report, subject by subject, explained her FFT predicted grades and then offered points for improvement.
For those of you who know the BBD, swallow anything you have in your mouth, do not put anything back in until you've finished reading this post, I do not want to be sent the bill for laptop repairs because you've spat all over your computer, I am skint and I've several weans and a Hot Boy to take to Florida, more specifically Harry Potter land at Easter. Consider yourself warned.
BBD's form tutor feels that the only thing that could be improved is if she spoke more in form, contibuted and shared her opinions more. Yep, that's right, my child, the one who talks at me till my ears bleed, the one who barristers practice their debating skills with, the one we call Chatty Annie or less kindly, Little Miss Last Word.
After I'd made a holy show of myself by laughing, I explained that she's only been quiet for about 15 minutes of her 15 years, he looked totally perplexed, apparently she never says a word, he didn't realise she was Scottish because he'd never heard her say more than "here" when he does the register.
And the reason for this, dear readers, explained with uncharacteristic succinctness by BBD
" For goodness sake Mummy, of course I don't say anything, I'm not awake yet in form time"
Ahem.
I have been a Mummy for a very long time and I think I have a fair opinion of my offspring (I did type fruit of my loins but I had to delete it, it grossed even me out) I am not one of the showy offy type mummies, I do not regale others of my childs academic achievements overly much, I don't make you listen to their musical offerings or insist you peruse their artistic endeavours. I am much more likely to share their WTF moments. I am most definitely not the parent who thinks their child is the new Messiah, I am fairly realistic of their good and bad points.
Last night was parents evening at Beautiful Baby Daughter's school, this is the same school I used to teach at, so when they are talking to me, I know exactly what they are trying to say, there is no point in putting high heels and lipstick on it, I get told straight. This is not a big worry really as BBD has not inherited the "can't be arsed" gene, she has always been the sort that pushes herself and gets involved in everything, she's not naughty and she goes every day so parents evening throws up few surprises usually.
Her form tutor went through her interim report, subject by subject, explained her FFT predicted grades and then offered points for improvement.
For those of you who know the BBD, swallow anything you have in your mouth, do not put anything back in until you've finished reading this post, I do not want to be sent the bill for laptop repairs because you've spat all over your computer, I am skint and I've several weans and a Hot Boy to take to Florida, more specifically Harry Potter land at Easter. Consider yourself warned.
BBD's form tutor feels that the only thing that could be improved is if she spoke more in form, contibuted and shared her opinions more. Yep, that's right, my child, the one who talks at me till my ears bleed, the one who barristers practice their debating skills with, the one we call Chatty Annie or less kindly, Little Miss Last Word.
After I'd made a holy show of myself by laughing, I explained that she's only been quiet for about 15 minutes of her 15 years, he looked totally perplexed, apparently she never says a word, he didn't realise she was Scottish because he'd never heard her say more than "here" when he does the register.
And the reason for this, dear readers, explained with uncharacteristic succinctness by BBD
" For goodness sake Mummy, of course I don't say anything, I'm not awake yet in form time"
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
Too good to be true
Remember the last post where I was hoping that Beautiful Baby Daughter would be my only regular human child? Well, that's not working out too well, truth be told.
On return from school today Beautiful baby daughter informed me in a proud and happy voice that she'd learned a new word.
From her English teacher.
So far so good.
So, as is a good mummy's wont, I enquired as to the new word.
Would you like to know too?
Promiscuous.
Splendid, so no hope for me then.
As you were.
On return from school today Beautiful baby daughter informed me in a proud and happy voice that she'd learned a new word.
From her English teacher.
So far so good.
So, as is a good mummy's wont, I enquired as to the new word.
Would you like to know too?
Promiscuous.
Splendid, so no hope for me then.
As you were.
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Help me
You know your kids aren't quite the same as others when...
Your elder daughter rings you and says " Mummy, I've just been to Asda and they had no pesto and when I came out there was a man weeing just outside the shop. What kind of a place doesn't sell pesto?"
And in another supermarket, in another town, your son says in a proud and happpy voice "Oh God that's brilliant, a free glass with the Budweiser, that means me and Johnny have the same glass, how good is that?"
So I have a daughter who doesn't gee her ginger at men weeing in the street and a son in the throes of a bromance.
Help me, Lucy Abigail, you're my only hope.
Your elder daughter rings you and says " Mummy, I've just been to Asda and they had no pesto and when I came out there was a man weeing just outside the shop. What kind of a place doesn't sell pesto?"
And in another supermarket, in another town, your son says in a proud and happpy voice "Oh God that's brilliant, a free glass with the Budweiser, that means me and Johnny have the same glass, how good is that?"
So I have a daughter who doesn't gee her ginger at men weeing in the street and a son in the throes of a bromance.
Help me, Lucy Abigail, you're my only hope.
Friday, 4 November 2011
Things that made your auntie cheery today
I love Fridays, truly I do, best day of the week for me usually. But today, oh my mercies, aunties wee cup of happiness overfloeth.
My morning got off to the best start as when I woke up it was sheeting down with rain and I didn't have to get up and go out. Indeed I snuggled back down with a humungous mug of coffee and some of my preferred porn, aka The White Company Christmas brochure, they have 20% off dresses and tunics this week, so it'd be rude not to really - auntie has ordered THIS
I proceeded downstairs still fully jammied up and topped up the caffiene levels and proceeded to source flights for an upcoming secret jolly. So far so good.
Then my lovely, lovely friend LOOKING FOR BLUE SKY sent me this
Now I defy you to watch this and not be cheery too. Incidentally, is it wrong that I now fancy John Barrowman as well? What is it with me and camp men? I started off with Alan Cumming, progressed to DT who is not the machoest (if it wasn't a word before when it gets typed in the blog of auntie it becomes one)and now John Barrowman.
Gawdonlyknows who it'll be next.
My morning got off to the best start as when I woke up it was sheeting down with rain and I didn't have to get up and go out. Indeed I snuggled back down with a humungous mug of coffee and some of my preferred porn, aka The White Company Christmas brochure, they have 20% off dresses and tunics this week, so it'd be rude not to really - auntie has ordered THIS
I proceeded downstairs still fully jammied up and topped up the caffiene levels and proceeded to source flights for an upcoming secret jolly. So far so good.
Then my lovely, lovely friend LOOKING FOR BLUE SKY sent me this
Now I defy you to watch this and not be cheery too. Incidentally, is it wrong that I now fancy John Barrowman as well? What is it with me and camp men? I started off with Alan Cumming, progressed to DT who is not the machoest (if it wasn't a word before when it gets typed in the blog of auntie it becomes one)and now John Barrowman.
Gawdonlyknows who it'll be next.
Sunday, 30 October 2011
10 things that could only happen in my life
You know the 1 step forward and 2 steps back analogy?, that could have been written for your auntie. For me if a good thing happens then a not so good thing comes along to even up the score. A more Pollyannaish auntie would say that if a bad thing happens a better thing comes along and I do try and reframe stuff to that end but for the purposes of slight comedy value we will go with the 1 forward and 2 back.
Since the dawn of time I have been trying and failing to lose weight This is my lifelong battle as I am an auntie who loves cake with a passion. I am losing badly. Imagine my surprise and delight when I got thinner. Yaay, happy middle aged woman dance of joy.
The down side - it was my wrist and my hands that got thinner. My watch and ring are now hanging off me. Turn away now if you don't want to read swearing, what the actual fuckity fuck fuck?
Both The Beautiful Son and the Beautiful Baby Daughter were out at parties and sleepovers on Friday night. I had looked forward to this unexpected free night with an expectation usually only experienced by kiss and tell girls when they finally realise they are going to shag the footballer of their grubby little dreams.
Then Eldest Beautiful Daughter arrived home from university and that meant all my plans had to be accommodated to include her as she needs constant feeding and entertainment.
I spent a whole day making a presentation so that I didn't scare lay people about a disease. I normally only train doctors and nurses so I can talk about symptoms and side effects and no one turns green or cries.
Then the chairman of the support group showed up and spoke at great length and with astonishingly graphic detail about the scary bits and the side effects that I had been so keen to avoid.
I got a letter from the Inland revenue to say I had overpaid tax and they were sending me five hundred and something pounds.
The next day I got a letter saying I owed them four hundred and something pounds in unpaid NI contributions.
In a fit of unexpected efficiency I ordered 200 stamps from Royal Mail online. I get through stamps on an industrial basis and I am forever running out and then I have to drive to the village, find a parking space and wait behind the pensioners who hide around the corner and appear in a flash mob just before I join the queue. I smugly congratulated myself on such a time saving ruse.
I arrived home from work and find a Royal Mail card saying they had a package that they needed a signature for. I drive to the collecting office, have to pay for parking as it's conveniently situated outside of the village but just inside the city centre and tucked away behind the railway station. I wait in a very long queue and retrieve a very flat envelope. Which contained 200 stamps.
As I always say, my life is massively entertaining if you're not living it.
Since the dawn of time I have been trying and failing to lose weight This is my lifelong battle as I am an auntie who loves cake with a passion. I am losing badly. Imagine my surprise and delight when I got thinner. Yaay, happy middle aged woman dance of joy.
The down side - it was my wrist and my hands that got thinner. My watch and ring are now hanging off me. Turn away now if you don't want to read swearing, what the actual fuckity fuck fuck?
Both The Beautiful Son and the Beautiful Baby Daughter were out at parties and sleepovers on Friday night. I had looked forward to this unexpected free night with an expectation usually only experienced by kiss and tell girls when they finally realise they are going to shag the footballer of their grubby little dreams.
Then Eldest Beautiful Daughter arrived home from university and that meant all my plans had to be accommodated to include her as she needs constant feeding and entertainment.
I spent a whole day making a presentation so that I didn't scare lay people about a disease. I normally only train doctors and nurses so I can talk about symptoms and side effects and no one turns green or cries.
Then the chairman of the support group showed up and spoke at great length and with astonishingly graphic detail about the scary bits and the side effects that I had been so keen to avoid.
I got a letter from the Inland revenue to say I had overpaid tax and they were sending me five hundred and something pounds.
The next day I got a letter saying I owed them four hundred and something pounds in unpaid NI contributions.
In a fit of unexpected efficiency I ordered 200 stamps from Royal Mail online. I get through stamps on an industrial basis and I am forever running out and then I have to drive to the village, find a parking space and wait behind the pensioners who hide around the corner and appear in a flash mob just before I join the queue. I smugly congratulated myself on such a time saving ruse.
I arrived home from work and find a Royal Mail card saying they had a package that they needed a signature for. I drive to the collecting office, have to pay for parking as it's conveniently situated outside of the village but just inside the city centre and tucked away behind the railway station. I wait in a very long queue and retrieve a very flat envelope. Which contained 200 stamps.
As I always say, my life is massively entertaining if you're not living it.
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
10 things my children are quite cross with me about
I have spectacularly failed to be a millionaire and keep them in ponies and Jack Wills all the live long day.
Eldest Beautiful Daughter is cross that she is going to have to get a part time job. This is because she didn't get a job in the summer and save some cash for term time. She is extremely cross that I am not financing her drinking oops sorry studies this year. Her life would be so much easier if I just kept giving her £60 a week for food oops sorry supernoodles and alcohol, wouldn't it?
She is cross that she didn't get to come to Turkey with us last week and missed out on a free holiday. This is due to uni students not having a half term break. The point that it's the university that sets the timetable and not me has escaped her.
EBD is also cross that she isn't allowed to keep her bigger bedroom now that she doesn't live here, when she comes back in the holidays she will have to sleep in BBD's smaller room.
I will not let Beautiful Baby Daughter die her gorgeous titian tresses jet black. She is properly cross with me about this but I will not have it. Yes, I am aware that at 15 I dyed my hair jet black and at 15 her elder sister dyed her hair jet black, I just can't bear the thought of my baby dying her hair.
BBD is cross that I expect her to live in 1 bedroom, she has now spread her crap over her old bedroom and into the bedroom grudgingly vacated by EBD. That means there are 2 bedrooms that look like Beirut on a bad day.
BBD is annoyed that she always has her birthday on holiday, she sometimes has to wait for big presents until we return, she has to delay her party as most of her friends are away tooand she feels it's not as good as when you have a birthday at your own house. My conception of her was very poorly timed, in her opinion.
The Beautiful Son is cross that I won't leave him home alone overnight, especially now he is 16. EBD was at uni before she spent a night alone. I don't like to leave him alone for an evening.
TBS is cross that I impose an 11pm curfew during the school week, he thinks if he can get up for his paper round and school then he should be able to come in at anytime that takes his fancy.
TBS is cross if I go anywhere without him that isn't work or the supermarket. He gets very tetchy if I go out for a meal or God forbid, a gig or a weekend away. I so can't wait till he has a girlfriend and I'll whinge and whine to be taken with them. Everywhere.
Eldest Beautiful Daughter is cross that she is going to have to get a part time job. This is because she didn't get a job in the summer and save some cash for term time. She is extremely cross that I am not financing her drinking oops sorry studies this year. Her life would be so much easier if I just kept giving her £60 a week for food oops sorry supernoodles and alcohol, wouldn't it?
She is cross that she didn't get to come to Turkey with us last week and missed out on a free holiday. This is due to uni students not having a half term break. The point that it's the university that sets the timetable and not me has escaped her.
EBD is also cross that she isn't allowed to keep her bigger bedroom now that she doesn't live here, when she comes back in the holidays she will have to sleep in BBD's smaller room.
I will not let Beautiful Baby Daughter die her gorgeous titian tresses jet black. She is properly cross with me about this but I will not have it. Yes, I am aware that at 15 I dyed my hair jet black and at 15 her elder sister dyed her hair jet black, I just can't bear the thought of my baby dying her hair.
BBD is cross that I expect her to live in 1 bedroom, she has now spread her crap over her old bedroom and into the bedroom grudgingly vacated by EBD. That means there are 2 bedrooms that look like Beirut on a bad day.
BBD is annoyed that she always has her birthday on holiday, she sometimes has to wait for big presents until we return, she has to delay her party as most of her friends are away tooand she feels it's not as good as when you have a birthday at your own house. My conception of her was very poorly timed, in her opinion.
The Beautiful Son is cross that I won't leave him home alone overnight, especially now he is 16. EBD was at uni before she spent a night alone. I don't like to leave him alone for an evening.
TBS is cross that I impose an 11pm curfew during the school week, he thinks if he can get up for his paper round and school then he should be able to come in at anytime that takes his fancy.
TBS is cross if I go anywhere without him that isn't work or the supermarket. He gets very tetchy if I go out for a meal or God forbid, a gig or a weekend away. I so can't wait till he has a girlfriend and I'll whinge and whine to be taken with them. Everywhere.
Monday, 24 October 2011
10 quirks my family has
I have lived in England for the last 11 years and I don't see my family often as it's a 700 mile round trip. Having spent the last week on holiday with my parents I am slightly more aware of their little quirks than usual. You know the things your family does and some of it is quite endearing, some of it is puzzling and some of it makes you reach for the gin. I wouldn't say it was stressful or anything but my jaw is beginning to unclench now.
My dad prefers to keep his holiday money in a cushion cover, that's as safe as houses for him.
My dad doesn't think the evening has ended until he's bought some more hooky dvd's. He was buying 10 a night, he has more films than blockbusters.
They both seem to be ambrosia to mosquito's, their anti mosquito protection going to bed routine takes quite some time. They have the plug in deterrents, they spray the room, they wipe stuff they buy from the chemist on any exposed skin, they wear full length pyjamas, they both sleep inside a net they bought in Ikea and they tuck themselves oh so carefully in and still they are bitten to death. I did nothing, not a thing and I wasn't bitten at all. This made my mother a tad tetchy.
My mother looked like a mafia widow most evenings, she has a tiny bite on her face which meant huge black sunglasses had to be put on when we went out. She said she was scared someone would think my dad had hit her. In my head, every evening went the refrain of "only the lonely" but her glasses weren't as nice as Roy's.
When I was in a bikini, they were in jeans and jumpers, my mum even had her tights on under the jeans, she does wear her sunhat though, as it was in the 80's, that is her concession to the temperature.
My mother can't speak to waiters at all, she would tell us what she wanted and when the waiter asked her for her order, she would look frantically at us and mouth what she wanted.
My mother never, ever enjoys what she gets in restaurants. No matter how good the food is, there is always something not quite right with it, if she enjoyed the fish, the potatoes were not right, too lumpy, too seasoned, too hot, too cold, too something. She would always leave most of her dinner uneaten and then we would have to have the conversation with the waiter, obviously she wouldn't complain about anything but she would make us explain that the food was lovely but she's just not a big eater, that's what she likes us to say. I just wanted to say sorry, she's a bit mental and fussy and she hates seasoning and any kind of taste in food at all, she only wants things to taste like porridge.
Silence is a big no no for them, they like to have conversation at all times, especially if you're trying to watch a film, most especially then.
They do insist upon telling you everything 3 times over, it's difficult to appear interested when it actually didn't really matter in the first place
As they are both tee total, they just don't understand why anyone would want to drink, at all. This means my holiday becomes much more sober. At a time where I need alcohol just so much more.
My dad prefers to keep his holiday money in a cushion cover, that's as safe as houses for him.
My dad doesn't think the evening has ended until he's bought some more hooky dvd's. He was buying 10 a night, he has more films than blockbusters.
They both seem to be ambrosia to mosquito's, their anti mosquito protection going to bed routine takes quite some time. They have the plug in deterrents, they spray the room, they wipe stuff they buy from the chemist on any exposed skin, they wear full length pyjamas, they both sleep inside a net they bought in Ikea and they tuck themselves oh so carefully in and still they are bitten to death. I did nothing, not a thing and I wasn't bitten at all. This made my mother a tad tetchy.
My mother looked like a mafia widow most evenings, she has a tiny bite on her face which meant huge black sunglasses had to be put on when we went out. She said she was scared someone would think my dad had hit her. In my head, every evening went the refrain of "only the lonely" but her glasses weren't as nice as Roy's.
When I was in a bikini, they were in jeans and jumpers, my mum even had her tights on under the jeans, she does wear her sunhat though, as it was in the 80's, that is her concession to the temperature.
My mother can't speak to waiters at all, she would tell us what she wanted and when the waiter asked her for her order, she would look frantically at us and mouth what she wanted.
My mother never, ever enjoys what she gets in restaurants. No matter how good the food is, there is always something not quite right with it, if she enjoyed the fish, the potatoes were not right, too lumpy, too seasoned, too hot, too cold, too something. She would always leave most of her dinner uneaten and then we would have to have the conversation with the waiter, obviously she wouldn't complain about anything but she would make us explain that the food was lovely but she's just not a big eater, that's what she likes us to say. I just wanted to say sorry, she's a bit mental and fussy and she hates seasoning and any kind of taste in food at all, she only wants things to taste like porridge.
Silence is a big no no for them, they like to have conversation at all times, especially if you're trying to watch a film, most especially then.
They do insist upon telling you everything 3 times over, it's difficult to appear interested when it actually didn't really matter in the first place
As they are both tee total, they just don't understand why anyone would want to drink, at all. This means my holiday becomes much more sober. At a time where I need alcohol just so much more.
Thursday, 20 October 2011
10 things I have learned about my youngest daughter
Today Beautiful Baby Daughter is 15. I have no idea how that happened, as clearly I'm only 29, ahem. The BBD is the most complex of the offspring and from the get go she required a more flexible approach to parenting. I wonder if this is true of other youngest children?
She is always right, even when she is clearly wrong, she will argue her point until you agree or your ears bleed, whichever comes first
She is startlingly and astonishingly messy, like no other child I've ever met and yet she is so fastidious about her work and her appearance
She is a brilliant young leader at Girls Brigade, she is adored by the little ones
She has a deep seated faith and a genuine belief that God will look after us
She is appalled by racism and truly astonished when she comes across it
She loves heinz tomato soup and would eat it every day
She thinks mayonnaise is the work of Satan
She has a frankly too high capacity for crap telly, Hollyoaks, Big Brother, Eastenders et al
She gave up her cheerleading place when she realised that she was holding her group back. That decision showed real maturity and thought for others, a fine example of team spirit.
She will rule the world one day, but only if she wants to. If she prefers she will stay in her jammies, drinking Heinz tomato soup from a mug and watching crap telly.
Lucy Abigail, your middle name is Hebrew for my fathers delight, which you are but as always, you are mo chridhe, my heart and every day I am thankful you are mine.
Monday, 17 October 2011
10 reasons you should go to Turkey
I'm lucky enough to go there a few times a year, my house is on the outskirts of a fair sized village and really close to the beautiful Olu Deniz beach. Everywhere I look I can see the most amazing scenery. Let me persuade you to visit
It really is beautiful, the seas are crystal clear and the sand white
The mountains look so incredible, you don't have to look far for a great view
The people are so friendly and helpful
Nothing is too much trouble and people genuinely want you to have the best time
You can rent my house, it's lovely, honest
The local food is amaaaaazing - it's agriculturally self suffiecient and the fruit and veg have real proper flavour, you eat what's in season and it tastes all the better for it
The local cheeses, nuts, olives and oils are fabulous
Eating and drinking are very reasonably priced, it's not in the euro so it's a very affordable holiday
You will be given free bread and olives in 90% of restaurants before your meal at no charge. The bread is lush. You will nearly always be offered free coffee and sometimes a free liqour as well after dinner
Did I mention the sunshine? it's very sunny there.
Friday, 14 October 2011
10 Things I miss
Apart from my sanity and youth, that is... More along the lines of things you can't buy anymore, this list appears to be food and drink related.
Cadbury creme bears - like creme eggs but you got them at Christmas. They came in a box made to look like a shop window, I loved them but very few people remember them, they were real, honest
Cremola foam - crystals that you mixed with water and it made a fizzy drink, gawdonlyknows what it did to my teeth and insides but as a child I loved them
Fry's five centres chocolate - milk chocolate with fruit flavoured cream centres, the fruit all mixed together, it never corresponded that 1 segment would have 1 flavour, just a bit mushed. We were easier pleased in the 70's.
Fruit toffos - lovely rot your teeth fruit flavoured toffees
Tudor crisps - so much better than Golden wonder which retailed at 2 and 1/2p per packet. Tudor were only 2p bargain and they had a great advert with paperboys and a strap line of "a canny bag of Tudor"
Tennants lager with ladies on the back - not to drink, I used to look at them in shops and pick my favourite girl, yep I was a strange child
Lucozade - when you were a poorly girl or boy you got Lucozade. It was only sold in chemists and the bottle was covered in orange cellophane. It seemed magic to me and always made me feel better.
Kraft macaroni cheese - came in a box, you cooked the macaroni and made the sauce from a powder in a shade of orange visible from space and in my house was always served up with chips and peas. That was my favourite tea when I was young.
Swiss nougat - I only had this when the Ideal Home Show came to the Kelvin Hall. We went every year and this was a strawberry flavoured non sticky version, the texture of fudge but less sweet. It was what I always spent my money on.
MB bars - chocolate with a cream filling but surprisingly firm in texture, a bit like a Frys chocolate cream bar but nicer.
So then, what foods do you miss from your formative years?
Cadbury creme bears - like creme eggs but you got them at Christmas. They came in a box made to look like a shop window, I loved them but very few people remember them, they were real, honest
Cremola foam - crystals that you mixed with water and it made a fizzy drink, gawdonlyknows what it did to my teeth and insides but as a child I loved them
Fry's five centres chocolate - milk chocolate with fruit flavoured cream centres, the fruit all mixed together, it never corresponded that 1 segment would have 1 flavour, just a bit mushed. We were easier pleased in the 70's.
Fruit toffos - lovely rot your teeth fruit flavoured toffees
Tudor crisps - so much better than Golden wonder which retailed at 2 and 1/2p per packet. Tudor were only 2p bargain and they had a great advert with paperboys and a strap line of "a canny bag of Tudor"
Tennants lager with ladies on the back - not to drink, I used to look at them in shops and pick my favourite girl, yep I was a strange child
Lucozade - when you were a poorly girl or boy you got Lucozade. It was only sold in chemists and the bottle was covered in orange cellophane. It seemed magic to me and always made me feel better.
Kraft macaroni cheese - came in a box, you cooked the macaroni and made the sauce from a powder in a shade of orange visible from space and in my house was always served up with chips and peas. That was my favourite tea when I was young.
Swiss nougat - I only had this when the Ideal Home Show came to the Kelvin Hall. We went every year and this was a strawberry flavoured non sticky version, the texture of fudge but less sweet. It was what I always spent my money on.
MB bars - chocolate with a cream filling but surprisingly firm in texture, a bit like a Frys chocolate cream bar but nicer.
So then, what foods do you miss from your formative years?
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
10 steps to getting through
I made a mistake and it is consuming my every waking moment. If I am not in tears or shaking with worry I am apologizing for my mistake. It is inconvenient and expensive and causes a whole lot of people a whole lot of extra work but fixable. I am usually okay ish at life but when I am coming out from a whole load of stress I realise what pressure I have been under. In no means am I unusual in this, I have a busy job, I have children, I have a house, I am tired all the live long day, I am sure most of you will understand that feeling, that strength sapping sense of having total responsibility. At this moment though I have reached my wall, I cannot go on like this any longer. However I know this feeling will pass, I know that I will be okay and quicker than I know I will feel happy again. Tomorrow is definitely another day.
Here are the 10 things that are getting me through
My mistake is being sorted, I am taking steps to ensure it never happens again, no one is giving me a hard time about this except myself
My son and daughter are not being horrible to each other too much as they can see I'm fragile
I know I will be able to cope again
I am going to drastically cut down on my work load
No one expects me to be superwoman/supermum/superworker except me, I am going to cut myself some slack
I am going to go and see my GP, I think there is an underlying reason for how I am feeling
This week is halfway over
I fly out to The Beautiful House on Friday for a week of rest
My parents will be joining me and I will actually be able to rest, that rest will help me carry on
The support and love that my nearest and dearest and colleagues have given me has been immense. The fact that they all have their own stuff to deal with but still have found space to help me has been hugely appreciated, again I am so incredibly grateful that I am so lucky. Please say a good thing to someone you know today, the world can only be a better place if we are kind to each other.
Here are the 10 things that are getting me through
My mistake is being sorted, I am taking steps to ensure it never happens again, no one is giving me a hard time about this except myself
My son and daughter are not being horrible to each other too much as they can see I'm fragile
I know I will be able to cope again
I am going to drastically cut down on my work load
No one expects me to be superwoman/supermum/superworker except me, I am going to cut myself some slack
I am going to go and see my GP, I think there is an underlying reason for how I am feeling
This week is halfway over
I fly out to The Beautiful House on Friday for a week of rest
My parents will be joining me and I will actually be able to rest, that rest will help me carry on
The support and love that my nearest and dearest and colleagues have given me has been immense. The fact that they all have their own stuff to deal with but still have found space to help me has been hugely appreciated, again I am so incredibly grateful that I am so lucky. Please say a good thing to someone you know today, the world can only be a better place if we are kind to each other.
Sunday, 9 October 2011
10 last free bloggy thing I've turned down
I get asked to review stuff, give away stuff as competitions, promote stuff fairly regularly. Now I accept that you probably have to work your way up with reviews etc before you get a go of the good stuff like free holidays and shoes. I'm an instant gratification girl, I want the good free stuff first. I am more than happy to sell my bloggy soul (and possibly a child) for free holidays and shoes.
These were the last things I have been offered
A £500 baby hamper as a comp prize - not likely to set my heart a flutter as my youngest will be 15 in less than a fortnight
To be an adjudicator at a Guiness world record attempt - there was no mention of cake
Pregnancy vitamins launch day - oh I'm not going back down that road, thankyouverymuch
Free £100 voucher to promote a shopping site.
Book blog site - oh I read and I blog but would others want to read about what I'm reading?
Theatre trip - I was on holiday
Experience days - I'm not madly keen on experiences, when someone says "well, that was an experience" I tend to think that is nice lady speak for "well that was crap"
Another theatre trip - a family one, show more suited to younger children than mine, although their behaviour might suggest otherwise
A day out at a science museum - again been there when they were much younger
Diet and fitness app - stop bloody laughing
Free washing powder - I want more exciting stuff than that.
Now once again, please offer me squillions of free stuff to review and promote, especially free stuff that I like, eg cake, weekends away especially trips to Barcelona as Kellogsville and I have a cunning plan, holidays, plastic surgery, clothes, make up and other nice lady things. I will do it properly, honest.
These were the last things I have been offered
A £500 baby hamper as a comp prize - not likely to set my heart a flutter as my youngest will be 15 in less than a fortnight
To be an adjudicator at a Guiness world record attempt - there was no mention of cake
Pregnancy vitamins launch day - oh I'm not going back down that road, thankyouverymuch
Free £100 voucher to promote a shopping site.
Book blog site - oh I read and I blog but would others want to read about what I'm reading?
Theatre trip - I was on holiday
Experience days - I'm not madly keen on experiences, when someone says "well, that was an experience" I tend to think that is nice lady speak for "well that was crap"
Another theatre trip - a family one, show more suited to younger children than mine, although their behaviour might suggest otherwise
A day out at a science museum - again been there when they were much younger
Diet and fitness app - stop bloody laughing
Free washing powder - I want more exciting stuff than that.
Now once again, please offer me squillions of free stuff to review and promote, especially free stuff that I like, eg cake, weekends away especially trips to Barcelona as Kellogsville and I have a cunning plan, holidays, plastic surgery, clothes, make up and other nice lady things. I will do it properly, honest.
Friday, 7 October 2011
10 Worst Presents
Leopard print snood - birthday this year, I am not really an animal print kind of girl and I didn't even do snoods in the 80's
Black and white glass bowl - all fluted and swirly from the Colin and Justin range, Xmas present last year, I love my sis in law dearly but that was just hideous. It may have been an emergency present.
A ceramic lemon with a pot scourer inside - from my ex mother in law when I was still married as a birthday present, enough said.
A set of eyeshadows instead of an Easter Egg - I might have been 14 but c'mon, actually my mum still buys me an Easter egg now, she must be scared to stop in case I did another "you've really upset me" teenage strop.
Red lace g string and suspender belt - bought by my brother in law, the minister in an attempt to be "hey I might be a minister but I still know people have sex" It was the Christmas after I got married, I was only 22, and mortified.
Cream fake fur body warmer - the ex mr auntiegwen one Christmas, I looked like a small chubby polar bear
Candle shaped like a wedge of chocolate gateau - looked bad and smelled worse, from my sister
A trip to a Lake District hotel for my 29th birthday - the sentiment was great, the ex mr auntiegwen bought be a Joanna Trollope novel, a box of chocs and a night in a hotel by myself. Jack was 8 weeks old and as I couldn't leave my bosoms at home would have starved. The ex mr auntiegwen didn't think of that. Still I enjoyed the book and the chocolates.
The biggest box of chocolates Thornton's do - I could have had a frock and shoes for the money, (it cost £50 around 15 years ago) but oh no I had to eat them all and get fat (ter).
My 40th birthday trip to Barcelona - I love the city and had been before with friends but the ex mr ag took me and when I was there I/we realised that it was all over. I hope to go back under happier circumstances.
Black and white glass bowl - all fluted and swirly from the Colin and Justin range, Xmas present last year, I love my sis in law dearly but that was just hideous. It may have been an emergency present.
A ceramic lemon with a pot scourer inside - from my ex mother in law when I was still married as a birthday present, enough said.
A set of eyeshadows instead of an Easter Egg - I might have been 14 but c'mon, actually my mum still buys me an Easter egg now, she must be scared to stop in case I did another "you've really upset me" teenage strop.
Red lace g string and suspender belt - bought by my brother in law, the minister in an attempt to be "hey I might be a minister but I still know people have sex" It was the Christmas after I got married, I was only 22, and mortified.
Cream fake fur body warmer - the ex mr auntiegwen one Christmas, I looked like a small chubby polar bear
Candle shaped like a wedge of chocolate gateau - looked bad and smelled worse, from my sister
A trip to a Lake District hotel for my 29th birthday - the sentiment was great, the ex mr auntiegwen bought be a Joanna Trollope novel, a box of chocs and a night in a hotel by myself. Jack was 8 weeks old and as I couldn't leave my bosoms at home would have starved. The ex mr auntiegwen didn't think of that. Still I enjoyed the book and the chocolates.
The biggest box of chocolates Thornton's do - I could have had a frock and shoes for the money, (it cost £50 around 15 years ago) but oh no I had to eat them all and get fat (ter).
My 40th birthday trip to Barcelona - I love the city and had been before with friends but the ex mr ag took me and when I was there I/we realised that it was all over. I hope to go back under happier circumstances.
Sunday, 2 October 2011
10 Best Presents
In October I like to do do 10 posts about 10 things, last year I was a bit tardy and had to do 11 posts of 11 things in November. This year I'm trying to get back on track. In no particular order
My teddy, given to me the day I was born by my auntie Gloria, he's called Michael and over the years he's gone from yellow to pale cream but it's the one of the few things I still have from my childhood.
My dolls house, with sliding glass doors and a roof that was hinged to lift up, made for me by my grampa who was a joiner, I was gutted when it rotted out in the shed and gadget mad dad threw it out. I was about 30 at the time. I'm still a bit gutted to be honest.
My bike, I had a Raliegh chopper, I was 9 and thought I was so cool, I think I was the only girl to have one, mine was purple.
My Kindle - God how I love it, wasn't sure if I would but I do.
My ipod shuffle, it's a tiny wee pink clip on one, and I can't run without it.
My childhood photos, taken from slides and made into prints, given to me as a gift when I had my first daughter so I could see if we were alike, we were/are.
My mothers day poems - written by my son and younger daughter and loved all the more for the spelling within.
My wooden hearts - each child wrote their message on their heart and gave it to me for my 40th birthday. They sit in a bowl on my windowsill that my niece Cat brought me back from her trip to Malawi.
My "Windows in the West" print by Avril Paton, hangs on my bedroom wall and is the first thing I see when I wake up.
My engagement ring - I looked at gazillions of rings and tried on a fair few. I kept saying I'd know mine when I put it on. I was right, it fitted perfectly and despite the cost, he knew it was mine and gave me it. I will cherish the ring and the memory of the love I felt at that moment for the rest of my life.
I'm a bit gutted I didn't have room for my sat nav, as it's been one of the most useful presents I've ever had, maybe I should have waited and did this in November. You see, even when I'm being efficient it goes agin me.
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