Horoscope my arse

I have fessed up on more than 1 occasion about my slight (but harmless) obsession with my horoscope.

Can you imagine how overgiddy with delight I was to read yesterday that I shouldn't be at all surprised if I got engaged? Well, is that not right up mush junkies street? Now we're talking, that would make your aunties wee cup of happiness overflow.

I was mocked mercilessly by my uber cynical colleagues and the office rang with peals of derisory laughter. I cared not a jot as I felt it was only a matter of time before either of the Divine Davids (Messrs Ginola and Tennant) were to hotfoot it to my classroom clutching a duck egg blue box (Tiffany, for any boys reading this and wondering where to buy a beautiful engagement ring)

You can imagine how excited I was the whole damn day, alert to the sign of any proposal winging my way as celestially foretold to me that very morning.

So I waited

and I waited

and I waited some more

I ate a lot of birthday cake while I was waiting.

Finally at 00 05 I accepted that it was some other lucky Leo that was getting engaged. I didn't want to but I did.

But I feel the Cosmos owes me a fiancee.

Russell feckin Grant.

Happy Birthday to my boy

Today my son was 14. My 9llb 11 oz bundle of joy (yes, that's right, he was a monster baby, he was 63 centimetres long too !)has now turned into a huge boy.

Where I used to tuck him in at night, he now says goodnight to me. I used to hold his hand to cross the road and now he makes sure it's safe for me.

If I could pick a son, I'd pick mine, I'd change nothing, he is quite simply the perfect son for me. I couldn't be prouder, he is an amazing young man and my words don't do him justice.

He is one of my 3 reasons for everything and my heart, mo chridhe.

My day by auntiegwen aged 42 and 3/4's

This morning at 7 am I was putting the bins out when I got spotted by one of my students doing their paper round. I don't know who was more startled but the sight of me in my very short nightie nearly knocked them off their bike.

When I was leaving for work my bins were the only ones left in the street. I spent the drive to work formulating the crushing complaints I was going to make when I phoned the council, I was coming over all Daily Mailish and I had my "I pay exorbitant amounts of council tax" aggrieved tone off to a tee. By the time I'd arrived at work I realised I was a day early, my collection day is Thursday.

I spent the day with my nursery nurse students, they sat their final exam after lunch, they were nervous, they were very nervous. One lady cried. I had a headache. I had no lunch, I had no coffee either. That's probably why I had the headache.

After that I went to the the only mobile phone shop in England that I hadn't visited at the weekend. My "I'm not fussy what new phone I get for my birthday" son is a liar. He is very fussy, there are 2 phones in the world he likes in the price range that I am prepared to pay. Neither of them are available. His birthday is tomorrow.

I drive to a neighbouring high school to watch a recycling and ecology showcase. It started at 4pm, I was 5 minutes late, I had to do the bad mummy slink of shame in. My beautiful baby daughter had made a dress out of crisp packets, her dress and her narration lasted around 45 seconds. I was there for 2 hours and 25 minutes, there's only so much recycling a girl can take. My limit was reached in about 10 minutes.

I drive home and make tea for 3 ungrateful offspring. After tea, I put presents in gift bags ( no wrapping paper, not ecologically sound, I will reuse gift bags, one has a pink fairy on, just the job for a 14 year old rugby player) I bake a birthday cake, it is the 43rd birthday cake I have baked for my children. They haven't really evolved or improved but the weans love them.

I attempted to help BBD with her algebra but failed, successfully helped TBS with his GSCE English transition work and filled in a consent form for EBD to go on a trip. Resist the urge to say "more feckin money" It is of course imperative to my child's education and future career prospects that she goes to see "Little Shop of Horrors" Imperative.

I read NB's blog about the KoL gig and don't feel jealous at all when I realise Glasvegas were the support. I am happy for him, really I am.

I prepare for a lesson on research methods for tomorrow. I drink coffee, think about running then it rains so I eat a fruit and nut toblerone. Why not ?

I take my make up off, do teeth, into bed and blog this. I am exhausted. It isn't even 9 o'clock.

And in my head is the the refrain from that funny song about mums that says

"And tomorrow we will do this all again because a mom's work never ends"

Strange Little Things

I'm sure we all have our quirks, the funny little habits we have that we don't notice until they're pointed out to us. I have a fair few, for example...

I can't wash my knickers in anyone elses machine (even my mums) I have to use my own.

My knickers have to match my bra.

I always ask for tea, or say I'm making a cup of tea but I mean coffee, I've never drank tea, this confuses everyone except the children, they know I mean coffee.

I never use apostrophes in texts, I just leave a space. I also don't use a full stop I put a kiss in instead. I also hate to end a message without a kiss, it just seems wrong. Some friends (well, just the one actually) have their own special signature kiss ending.

I read at least 6 horoscopes every day and half believe them too. I don't like to date Virgo's either, they don't match well with Leo's, yes I know that's taking it too far.

Reasons to be cheerful part 4

I got a new washing machine, I am very pleased about that. I was running out of knickers and somedays I had to wear non matching lingerie, shameful isn't it ?

The sun is shining again and I got a squillion loads of laundry done and dried outside, I am currently in bed in beautifully fresh smelling sheets. Yes, I probably am very sad.

I had a very good weekend, a gorgeous al fresco lunch on Saturday with 2 large glasses of pink fizzy and a really delish honeycomb cheesecake for pudding. I had great company and I managed to not make an arse of myself, not too shabby is it ?

I have been offered a fantastic new job, and it's not in the classroom.

auntiegwens wee cup of happiness runneth over.

auntiegwen goes to the country.

I am unashamedly urban, I like pavements, streetlights, shops and Starbucks. I make no apology for it, I am a city girl through and through.

On Saturday, I went to a posh wedding in Arse-end-of-nowhere, a charming village in Herefordshire, I believe I was nearly in Wales. The wedding was held in a marquee in a field. I am sure the setting is beautiful, there were trees and grass and sheep and I am sure that floats lots of people's boats. Sure no harm to them, if we all liked the same things, the world would be a boring place.

Not your auntie.

I had on a very beautiful frock and my favourite shoes, as you're reading this you're thinking, that was a mistake hen, and you'd be right. The car was parked beside the field, in a parking field, so to speak. Then I had to walk IN MY GOOD SHOES (Dune, emperor purple satin overlaid with black lace 5 inch stilettos, I love them)...

through a field, to clarify, not a road, a wet, heel sinking, eat my stiletto type of field.

You can imagine your aunties mood and vocabulary at this point.

The man who'd asked me to accompany him as a plus one was beginning to find me less charming than he'd previously thought. This is a terribly posh man who lives a very country lifestyle, he finds me amusing in a "not quite sure what she is really" kind of way, he has no notion of me at all. He offers to carry me across the field as he is a gentleman but I put my fixed parents evening grin on my face and carry on.

Let me say, the wedding was beautiful, the marquee was perfect, the bride glorious and there was a free bar and dishes of love hearts on the table. The music was like a school disco circa 1982, so perfect for me, and we danced well into the night. I had a brilliant time.

The buffet was a bit different, they had roasted a pig, it still had it's face on and people were hacking lumps off the side of it and sticking them in bread rolls. Vegetarian auntie that I am found that slightly disconcerting.

The people are different, the men were huge, I felt absolutely tiny and they talked about things I had no notion of whatsoever. They just seem to say exactly what they're thinking. There was a very nice, very posh man telling me how he and Charles Spencer play cricket together, I know nothing of this sport, I'm Scottish, genetically predisposed to be bemused by cricket and as I apologised for my lack of knowledge he assured me it didn't matter. he then added, almost as an afterthought...

"Jolly nice breasts though"

Now if some ned had said come up to me in a bar and said "Good tits" I'd have been offended, uber posh man same sentiment, worded differently made me laugh.

The Upper Hand

My mother is struggling with Gadget Mad Dad's retirement and him being around her all day.

She fessed up to me she sent him off into town using his new free bus pass to buy her a cardigan from Marks and Spencer. Just to get rid of him for a while.

The cardigan she'd asked him to buy doesn't exist, it was a made up one, available only in her head, described in detail from her imagination. This was done purely to keep him out her way for the longest time possible. GMD is like a man on a mission if he's looking for something, he'll keep going till he finds it.

GMD went to M&S in Argyle Street and not surprisingly couldn't find the non existent cardigan, he rang her, she told him maybe she'd seen it in Sauchiehall St branch. he rang her again from there, so apologetic that he couldn't find it and bless him he offered to get the bus to Braehead (out of town shopping centre) and she let him.

He was gone from 9.30 till 4pm.

I gently enquired if this wasn't just a wee tiny bit mean and I got "Och he enjoys it, going on the buses and round the shops, keeps him out of mischief"

My mother should be running this country.

I am waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too hungover for this.

Last night I was an extremely naughty girl teacher. I was drunkety, drunk, drunk

Last night I drank

3 glasses of rose
1 glass of red
and I think 2 glasses of champagne (that'd be what did it)

I was at a quiz evening at school, rock n roll eh ? You should see what I turn down!! (toilet paper party in London, anyone ?)

Anyway, I'm at this quiz night, getting fairly fizzled, then I got fairly flirty with one of the biology teachers purely because he won a box of celebrations. He was going to take them home unopened and it became a sort of personal challenge to see if he'd give me a malteser (not a euphemism) and he did.

I got home and went straight to bed, only 1 round of drunken flirty texting and when they rang me 5 mins after the text I was asleep.

But this morning it feels like I have unleashed hell. I feel truly dreadful. I had to take my car to get serviced, normally I run home from the garage, today I walked home so slowly I was lapped by a pensioner using her shopping trolley as a walking aid, she spoke to me and I had no clue, not a notion as to what she said.

Further up the road I saw a woman in her mid to late 50's who looked like I felt, actually I probably looked like that too, she was a peculiar colour and had hair like a bird's nest. She was dressed in a style that had care in the community stamped all over it and she was wearing a disposable lighter on a cord around her neck. She had poked a camera through a hedge and was taking photos of someones garden.

As I am trying to assemble and process this information I turn the corner onto my street, and I see an elderly Chinese lady in pink floral pyjamas, black mens socks and shoes power walking, yep, power walking, the one where it looks like your arse is chewing a caramel. You couldn't make it up.

It is official, I live in Bonkerstown. I'm going back to bed.

Techfeckinology again

My washing machine is dead. It is 16 months old, I am not amused.

My laptop battery is dead. It has to be plugged in to use it, not tremendously helpful. I don't know how to sort this and yes I really wish I was still talking to IT God.

My all singing all dancing 4 month old streemly expensive Sony Erikson mobile phone is dead. I can only use it if it's on speakerphone, there are very few conversations that I would be happy to have that loud. Very few.

I am now using my 2nd to last phone which is a Nokia, I can't remember how it works but I found my old text messages, there were some really poignant ones, some funny ones and IT God's proposal and I cried.

Have you missed me ?

I am back from my first 3 generation holiday ever. No one fell out, no one was cross, there may have been a few mutterings under breaths but everyone tried very hard to keep the peace.

On Friday I was awake for 24 hours (I know, me that loves her bed, I can hardly believe it myself) I flew back into Manchester then drove back to chez auntiegwen before shooting off again to deepest darkest Essex and then into London to see The Manics courtesy of my lovely, lovely friend NB. Click on him for the review of the gig, he didn't mention the fight though, middle aged men behaving badly. The Manics were awesome though and I was slightly sad the didn't sing my favourite song but there's always next time.



So I'm back to real life. My washing machine engineer didn't turn up today. My year 12's were still my year 12's and the smile of the day was the following conversation with a student

Year 12 - Miss you look different
Me - It'll be the suntan
Year 12 - No, that's not it. Have you had your hair cut ?
Me - Nope
Year 12 - Have you dyed it ?
Me - Nope

Year 12 student in triumphant tones

Miss, I know what it is, you've had a boob job, they look well bigger.

Reasons to be cheerful part 3 of 3

Oh yes, you must all be getting mightily sick of the I'm going on a sunny holiday song, with the full 3 verses and the disco chorus. I sincerely hope that when you read this I will be on a plane having had a very large glass of wine and a bit of a nap. Don't hate me, read on and see how my life is going.

This week has been chock full of little petty irritations that have annoyed the crap outta me. Buckle up I might have a wee whinge to myself...

Sunday - my washing machine wouldn't spin leaving me with very wet washing (it's only 16 months old)

Tuesday - it wouldn't wash leaving me with a machine full of water and soaking wet dirty clothes.

Wednesday - call centre people at the place that I give £50 a month to fix all stuff that goes wrong in my house can only give me a time slot of between 8 aand 1 or 1 and 6, they don't seem to understand school not letting me have a day off the week before the A levels to stay in and have washing machine fixed. They also appear not to understand teenage daughters despair at not having clean skinny jeans to go on holiday with. Fortunately daughter has no classes Thurs pm and will sit in house awaiting repair man.

Thursday -
First thing in the morning - I mistakenly threw out an envelope containing EBD £20 holiday money from her dad, the other 2 had opened theirs and pocketed the money, I saw a pile of envelopes and put them in the recycling bag which gets collected at 7.30am

8am - at school I made myself a nice big mug of coffee in my brand new never been used Cath Kidston stripy mug, it had a crack in it and it split in 2 and I nearly scalded the head of IT who was reaching out for the milk.

8.50 am - I covered a year 10 RE lesson, I would rather do a Saturday night shift in a casualty department in Glasgow after an Auld Firm match than cover a year 10 RE lesson. On the bright side I gained a football (don't ask)

4.30 pm - washing machine engineer admits defeat after 2 hours trying to fix it, it needs specialist help but again we go back to the 8 and 1 or 1 and 6 dilemma. I say 1 and 6 on the Monday after we get back from holiday, I now have to find a kind and lovely friend/teenager to sit in the house awaiting another repair man. Also a plumber as first washing repair man broke the u bend under kitchen sink whilst trying to repair washing machine ! I cannot use my kitchen sink until then.

5pm - kids to dentist for check up, then to M and S to collect holiday money. On way back car develops squeaking noise, son tells me it's the axle and it needs oil, I listen to him as he watches Top Gear and in all probability knows more about cars than I do. I go to my friend C and she lets me borrow her washing machine and she also shows me how to check my oil, I don't need any. I am thinking I need to drive 106 miles to Manchester airport at stupid o'clock tomorrow morning and my car sounds poorly.

Feckity feckity feck.

If I get there I will be showing the United Nations peace keeping force how it's done, me the Queen of my own routine will be on holiday with the Queen Mother of her own routine who is mightily ticked off at my dad's audacity in retiring. Add in a teenager who's revising for AS levels and a son and younger daughter who have taking annoy your sibling to Olympic standards and you have the perfect recipe for a happy family holiday.

But did I mention the sun will be shining ? See you in a week, much love from your auntie xxx

Reasons to be cheerful part 2 of 3

I am going on holiday on Friday.

Where I am going will be sunny.

Again, holiday and sunny.

No hate mail please.

Reasons to be cheerful part 1 of 3

On Friday I will be on a plane going to The Beautiful House. The weather forecast there is for sun, for the UK readers who can't remember what sun is, it is a big yellow ball up in the sky, it is warm (not wet) and it makes you cheerful.

I will be having pink o clock and also my almond magnum o clock daily for 1 week.

All my coursework marking is finished and the final grades have been submitted to the exam board, cue the Gospel chorus singing "Oh Happy Days".

Same old Same old

My life is not exciting, maybe other people's isn't either but I am disgruntled that mine isn't. I am hoping to reverse this on Saturday, there may be drinking, sneaky smoking and possibly a smidgeon of flirting.

To illustrate to you how unexciting my life is I will give you the weeks edited highlights.

Today I have cleaned the kitchen, I only just refrained from photographing and blogging it.

I got locked in at school (not where you want a lock in is it?) on Tuesday.

I have bought fitflops, my daughters have disowned me, they feel it's a slippery slope to crocs.

My friend C told me that men(she reckons about 5) have sidled up beside her in Manchester Central Library and have proceeded to interfere with themselves. She went on to add "in a variety of positions"

Funny things I have heard in the last week

From my friend C

On visit to new classroom to meet new teacher, Miss year 5 teacher asks if the new class have any questions. C's daughter's friend puts her hand up and asks "Have you got a boyfriend ? " Miss year 5 teacher says not that kind of question, a proper question, same child puts hand up and asks "How old are you ?"

From Eldest Beautiful Daughter

Tom and Sarah (fellow pupils both 16/17) are going to Ikea together. They don't even have a house. What can they buy ? A flat pack relationship ?

From Beautiful Baby Daughter

Miss PE Teacher told some big chavs to get off our sports field and they mooned her. I had to write a description of them cos I was at the front. I've never had to describe a chavs bum before.

From The Beautiful Son

I'm so gonna do that on my last day at school.

Pollyanna has left the building.

As a person I would say I used to be very pessimistic, a bit like expect the worst and then anything else is an upgrade. Very much a glass half empty kinda gal. I was brought up that way. One of my Grandma's favourite sayings was "She that expecteth nothing can never be disappointed"

When I was married I always had a worry list, I felt that if I was worrying about lots of little things God wouldn't give me a big feck off disaster to deal with. I had an omnipresent list of worries and looking back they were so trivial, something that occupied my mind a fair amount was why my shower doors had water marks on, I asked everyone what they used and tried the lot, no I can't imagine why my husband got bored either. I also worried about the children to a near Olympic standard, their safety, their health, their social skills, their education, their diet, nothing was too trivial for me not to have on my list.

Did I ever feel content ? Not really... there always seemed to be something just out of reach that would make me happy, I never seemed to just enjoy what I had, it was always a case of if.

Then I had 2006, my annus horribilis, when my marriage ended in the summer I went into survival mode and in Jan 2007 I started my blog, it's great for me to read back and see how I'm changing and adapting to my new life. I think I have become so much more optimistic and hopeful, I seemed to be able to see the positives in situations where before I'd always have seen the negatives.

Yet I feel now I am tending back towards the negatives, pondering on what I don't have rather than appreciating what I do have. Maybe that is my inherent personality and I am just reverting to type but I liked the sunny, optimistic version of me better. Is it human nature to dwell on what we don't have rather than appreciate what we do ?

I have 3 beautiful and healthy children and a fantastic relationship with them, we are much closer now than we were before, I have my health, I have a home to live in and I have friends. I am really and truly grateful for them, may that never change.

But

I seem to have lost my sense of purpose, I'm leaving teaching at the end of this academic year but I don't seem to have the inclination to forge out a new career path, I simply have no clue as to what I will do in September but I know I don't want to teach, yet I used to love it. You'd think the thought of being unemployed and unable to pay the mortgage would be a fantastic motivator but nope, searching and applying for jobs just isn't happening.

I'm missing being part of a couple, that feeling of being loved and supported isn't in my life and I want it. I was happy just me and the kids but I'm not anymore. I feel this pang when I see couples together. I hate this notion that I need a man to make me happy, I am generally happy but my brain seems hardwired to the idea of coupledom. I've had 2 significant relationships in the last 3 years and I feel so badly about the way they ended.

I'm wondering if I'll ever be lucky enough to have another or have I used all my love up ?

A Beginner's Guide to Essex and Daawn Saarf

On Friday night NB took me to see Doves at the Brixton Academy, because he is a lovely, lovely man. I'm not sure how NB's son felt about taking a middle aged auntie out on his birthday treat but he is a gorgeous and polite boy and I loved him.

The South is a strange place to me, it may be to you yourself, have some handy hints from your auntie, they may help you prepare.

It is the law that if you live in Essex you either have to be blonde, orange or have fake nails, it's better if you have all 3, they give you a discount on your council tax if you do. I truly saw a black man with a blonde mohawk, I am not making that bit up.

It can take a ferocious amount of time to drive anywhere, it took us 90 minutes to go 12 miles. This is not uncommon, apparently, this is why many people in London are grumpy or stone mad or both. There is a lot of beeping, an awful lot.

If you drive a BMW you are exempt from any traffic laws or codes of common courtesy that others may follow. You can be even more cavalier with the rules of the road if you drive a soft top BMW. There will be no raising of eyebrows or smart arse remarks from me about the men who drive these cars because NB is my friend, a lovely, lovely man and I want him to ditch Chloe's mum and take me to Kings of Leon, I am his proper friend.

You can't leave a soft top BMW in Brixton. You have to drive for an hour and a half, park in a safe place and then get 3 tubes to get there. This may account for the people being grumpy and stone mad as in point 2.

People in Essex judge you on how expensive your car is and how bling you are, don't think it works the same in Edinburgh, it doesn't, we don't do that, millionaires drive beaten up old Volvo estates and buy clothes from charity shops. This may be why they have money.

London was fantastic and I was overgiddy with delight to see The Gherkin and Tower Bridge, I actually did ooh noises and I believe I may have clapped my hands excitedly in the manner of a small child who's had too much sugar.

Doves were amazing and the Brixton Academy was my kind of venue, I loved it. It has so much character and it made me miss the Glasgow Apollo RIP.

Middle aged bald men can and will dance, some of them will even take their (middle aged) stripey shirts off to do it. Fair play to them, sure where's the harm ?

Directions to Doves

You know how I always tell you I'm a lucky, lucky girl ? All right lucky, lucky middle aged woman, tonight my lovely friend is taking me to see Doves at the Brixton Academy, streemly citing for an auntie who doesn't get out much.

The plan is I drive to lovely friend in White Stiletto and Fake Tan Land (and that's just the men !) and then we go by tube. Please read some extracts from the emails (3 in total) that gave me directions.

Don't take the A10 off the motorway...your sat nav might suggest that.

When you come off the motorway it's complicated....you come to a roundabout wher you sort of go straight on/go leftish but not much. Then you're on the A121

and I replied

Sat nav !
Would you give yourself peace ! I only go to work, the supermarket and my mothers, I have no need of a sat nav, I have no life, you read my blog and know that.
I did laugh (out loud) at your directions of
"When you come off the motorway it's complicated....you come to a roundabout wher you sort of go straight on/go leftish but not much."

and then he replied


yes..mmm...erm I think I'm totally misleading you...I think the road bends to the left and then you have to take a sharp right...then you get to the straight onish leftish bit....just don't quote me

So, I wonder if I'll find his house or if I'll be left wandering in deepest darkest WSAFT Land.

No, I'm not wondering why men drive around and won't admit they're lost, not at all !

Meme, me and me again

Greetings my little bloggy chums, I'm home safely from Prague (which was lovely) and I'm now knee deep in papers to mark (which is not lovely) and I have so much to do and my house so badly needs cleaning and sorting (no change there then !) and yet I still find the time to blog (selfless to the core, I know)

Congratulations to The Edge and Mud on surviving the London Marathon, much kudos to you both. Mud has tagged me with this meme and as we all know, your auntie is a great big fat show off and compliant by nature so here's my answers. I wonder if there is anything left to find out about me ?


1.What are your current obsessions?
Theoutnet.com designer handbag and shoe porn

2. Which item from your wardrobe do you wear most often?
Do my jammies count ? No ? Probably Gap jeans, long and lean, a Petit Bateau childrens black vest (age 14) and a grey cardie currently the boyfriend one from M&S as my Gap cashmere one still hasn't been sewed up.

3. What's for dinner?
God Almighty, you sound just like my children, I don't bloody know, I only decide when the offspring start mithering me to make their tea.

4. Last thing you bought?
Assorted groceries from Sainsbury's and for myself ? that was a Starbucks mug with Prague on it.

5. What are you listening to?
New White Lies CD

6. If you were a god/goddess who would you be?
Oh come on ! The Goddess of Love of course, either Aphrodite, Venus or Isis, any of those, as always, hear me say the words, my name is auntiegwen and I am a love addict, a mush junkie extraordinaire

7. Favourite holiday spots
Places I've yet to see

8. Reading right now?
The 19th Wife by David Ebershoff, OCR exam and portfolio guidance and The Sunday Times.

9. 4 words to describe yourself.
Small, Scottish, tired and maternal

10. Guilty pleasure?
Sneaky smokes on nights out accompanied by wine (I never smoke when I'm not drinking)

11. Who or what makes you laugh until you’re weak?
Billy Connolly, Peter Kay, Frankie Boyle, The Beautiful Son

12. First spring thing?
White tulips

13. Planning to travel to next?
Probably Turkey at the half term break (if our passports come back in time, the saga of replacing the passports is another blog all to itself)

14. Best thing you ate or drank lately?
Ice cold pink champagne on Saturday night in Prague

15. When did you last get tipsy?
Sunday afternoon in Prague

16. Favourite ever film?
Gregory's Girl

17. First Love ?
I was 15 and he was 16, his name was Alan Osprey and he got called Ospur. He was a punk, had beautiful blue eyes and dark hair and was tall. I loved him wholeheartedly and was devastated when we broke up.

18. What do you most want to achieve ?
Total peace of mind and true happiness, I've had it before and I'd like it back again please.


Rules of the meme. Respond and rework. Answer questions on your own blog. Replace one question. Add one question. Tag 8 people.

I’m tagging:

Oh I don't like to name names, you know that, and I am a bit subversive, so no names no pack drill, please feel free to play along if you want to.

Have a drink, you'll need it !

I had a very stressful 53 minutes on the phone with my mother today, she is cross with my Dad getting under her feet and this is officially day 4 of his retirement. The reason for the call is that my parents want to go and stay in my house in Turkey, they go for 2 weeks every May, no problem, except this time they want to go when I'll be going at the end of May, God alone knows why they would want to inflict my grumpy self and my grumpy weans on themselves when they could have the peace and quiet,it is beyond me. I say book your flights independently online, much cheaper.

They won't be able to do it themselves so I tell my mum I'll look around for flights for her and I'll sort it out, but she wants it doing now, so as we talk I go online and find flights going from Glasgow and I ask her if they're OK, she agrees so I start to book them, as I'm doing this she starts to get anxious. She's never booked flights before like this, she goes into the travel agent and they sort it all out for her, charge her a fortune for the privilege but that's what she's used to. She's worried about how she'll get her tickets because she won't be able to go into the travel agent to pick them up, she won't rest until she's got those tickets in her hand. I tell her it's a ticketless airline, that they'll email to confirm and you print it out and show the lady at check in. I try and reassure her I book my flights like this all the time and it's fine, they really do let you on the plane. She doesn't really trust me to do this, she thinks I'll do it wrong, she doesn't say so but I can feel it.

Now she's more worried, her voice has gone up an octave and I can feel the tension coming down the phone, I say I'll use my email address and I'll print it off and post it to her, she's still not happy, so whilst I'm still on the phone to her, I get the confirmation email and forward it to my dad. I was only there 2 weeks ago so he's not had time to delete his account or forget his password (I set him up a brand new email account every visit and he still manages not to get into yahoo) but he has surpassed himself and has an invalid password. Now my mum is yelling and she's panicking her pants off she won't be able to get on the plane.

Don't worry, says I, I'll open Mum up an email account and forward the confirmation to her, so I'm still on the phone and I open up my mum an email account and make her write down the email address and the password, at this point we had to have a wee wait as she wasn't wearing the right glasses and it took a while to find the reading glasses. Eventually, after a few false starts she gets into this brand new account and the stress levels are now at breaking point. I know she's thinking that it's easier to go into a travel agent but it's much more expensive too and most people can actually book things online, not my parents obviously, but most people.

My mother does nothing to the computer except dust it and my dad is enthusiastic about it but has no clue, as I've said before, he loves gadgets but he doesn't always fully understand how they work.

So I'm trying to explain to them how to print but there is no ink in the printer (get out ! why would that be straightforward ?) so my dad says he'll change the cartridge and ring me back.

40 minutes later my mum rings me, they have managed to print off 7 copies of their confirmation, yes that's right 7.

And she's worried because the confirmation has printed in black and white but the email confirmation had red on it, will that matter ???? I repress my inner smart arse (at some cost) from telling her that they won't let her on the plane unless it's the right colour because she will believe me and she might cry.

I know she will never let me book her flights again, she won't care how much extra it costs, the stress of doing it again might kill her.

Prague here I come

Your auntie is off on a wee jolliday. I know, I'm overgiddy myself with the excitement of going anywhere that isn't school or a supermarket. Myself and 3 other women in our book group fly out to Prague on Friday. Don't roll your eyes at the thought of a book group, what else are middle aged women to do ? I do believe some MAW go salsa dancing - flighty things !

So, we are staying in this gorgeous apartment and we will arrive Friday evening and leave Sunday evening.

If you've been to Prague before and you've got any top tips or recommendations that are suitable for middle aged women on tour let me know.

Rest assured, I will be on my best behaviour, these aren't people who know the real me, they get the diet version, I'm not sure they could cope with full fat auntie !!!

Back to School, that Monday morning feeling.

At the beginning of every school holiday I used to make myself a list of all the things I was going to achieve. I sat there like a happy wee scone with my Starbucks venti size coffee mug full, in my bed on the first moning and made myself THE LIST and I'd write "TO DO" and underline it and everything.

All the little jobs that pile up in termtime as I barely have time do do the mummying, teaching/prepping/marking, cleaning, household repairs and driving them to activities. You know, for me, living is a full time job. You're probably the same yourself.

All the things like optician's appointments (although 2 of my 3 children are supposed to wear glasses and I pay exorbitant amounts for designer frames, do I think they actually use them ? I suspect not), dental check ups, smear tests (just for me, don't be alarmed), cleaning the oven, sewing buttons on etc, replacing lost school kit, having shoes re heeled, passport photos, booking a holiday etc etc etc, to get the jist of this, you could probably look at your own list, I'm sure Imaverybusymum.com would have a generic one we could all use.

Sometimes I'd even start off with a few things I'd already done just so I could draw a very satisfying line all the way through them and then at night in bed I'd strike off all the things I'd achieved, you know the kind of stuff, achieved world peace (rationed kids to 2 hours computer time each without tears, tantrums or blows), found a cure for cancer (finally, Glory be To God in The Highest, got rid of Beautiful Baby Daughter's nits),cleaned the kitchen floor.

This holiday I didn't even bother with a list, I knew I had to clean the oven, I knew the kids all needed passport photos and application forms, I knew that my beloved gap grey cashmere boyfriend cardie still has a wee tiny rent at the seam, I knew I needed a smear test, I knew I had to do a powerpoint on the Musculo skeletal system for my A level group for lesson 1 and 2 today, I knew I needed a new scheme of work for every course I teach (A level, As level, yr 10 Btec and year 12 Btec, and finally nursery nurses) I knew the whole house needed cleaning and truth be told redecorating.

And now you know what I didn't manage to achieve.

The Beautiful Son says no

I've put up a picture of my very cool dude with his long hair as it won't be long before he has his annual haircut, yep, that's right, at the beginning of the school summer holidays he gets shorn like a sheep, none of us want him to, he's gorgeous with his long hair but his choice.


It has been a strange month chez auntiegwen. No one's relationships have been running smoothly and the tension and tears have been omnipresent. Feel very sorry for my poor boy living with 3 hormonal females !!

The Beautiful Son is very popular with the local young ladies, he's funny and kind and used to talking to girls. He has no girlfriend, he has no want of a girlfriend and even though he's asked out regularly he's just not interested yet. He is in his last year at middle school and there is a leavers prom, now this is a big deal for lots of kids. Would my son be interested ? That would be a big fat no, he's not going. Is my son being asked right, left and centre to accompany some very nice young girls ? That would be a yes.

So my son has to keep saying no to people and some of them have cried, some have texted him constantly and girl A's mates berated him for "talking to other girls" and making girl A cry ! His every movement is being watched via cyberspace and real life.

He came in the other day and said to his sisters and I "No wonder none of you girls can get a boyfriend, you're all bloody mental !"

What advice can I offer him ? None, it'll probably only get worse.

Strapped on a pair... twice

Yesterday I had not 1 but 2 arguments. I didn't think that was possible in a day, being the Queen of Not Saying How Upset I Feel. People can argue with me but I rarely find the words to retort. I have a million arguments written down, you can read them if you like, my written arguments are heartfelt and eloquent and more often than not tearstained. I am good at those.

Both of these arguments were with men I used to really care about.

Argument 1 - On the phone with Gordon about how upset our son was, if one of the beautiful children are upset, then I am upset, their well being is of paramount importance to me. Gordon doesn't like to think he's less than a perfect parent and sometimes needs reminding that our son will never say how unhappy his dad makes him to his dad, no prizes for guessing which parent TBS resembles emotionally. As this situation is ongoing and unlikely to change unless Gordon knows there is a problem I rang him and told him.

I felt Gordon wasn't really listening to what I said, he was just "He was absolutely fine at my house, if he was upset, I'd know" and my mind was screaming "No you fucking wouldn't, you don't know this boy at all, you don't have the first idea of what he's like"

so I told him

and I told him some more

and some more

and I left him with no doubt as to his behaviour and the disparity of the way he treats and deals with the younger 2 children (EBD has refrained from visiting his house)

and he was very cross with me. My reaction - too fucking bad, I should have let you have it years ago.

Now normally this would have left me tearful, anxious and unable to sleep.

No tears, no anxiety and then at bedtime, straight to sleep.



Argument 2 - I was awoken by a text message from the person I have just been in a relationship with. The message was about him hearing Sharleen singing "Should I stay or should I go " and it making him think of me. I took umbrage at this, waking me up to have a cheap pop at me, I tried really hard in that relationship, I really did. People who know and care about me have been telling me for months to walk away but I tried to hold it together until I just couldn't anymore. I appreciate it felt like the longest break up in history but I can assure you I tried my very best to make it work.

So instead of saying nothing as is my wont, I answered back and after arguing back and forth by text he apologized for waking me up and assured me there was nothing in his remark other than he heard her sing and thought of me.

Welcome to the new slightly improved version of me. I deserve to be happy and if you are doing something that is impinging on my happiness then I'm going to tell you. We can then work out a way to deal with this that we can both live with. Or you can leave my life.

You couldn't make it up...

I met a very interesting man this weekend, we talked, laughed and really connected. He asked me for my blog address as he wanted to read me. I didn't give him it. I was being on my very best behaviour and was trying to be the cool, witty, collected and sophisticated version of me that I can, on occasion, pull off. You know the one that you show to people you want to impress. The blog version of me tends to show me at my least glamorous self.

And as if to prove my point...

This morning I was greeted by this sight within my fridge. A Whittards of Chelsea carrier bag containing 2 tubs of Flora Light with a note stapled to it, reading " I am butter, Please love me xxx"

Welcome to the randomness that is my life, enjoy, smile and be grateful it's not yours !!