In which I am a big fail, again

If you looked inside my brain it would be a great big list of stuff to worry/fret/ agitate over like...

I have overbooked the villa by a night. This is not good, you don't go on holiday and then expect to share your bed with a stranger unless there has been a bit flirting and some alcohol involved. You tend not to be amenable to the idea because your landlady is an arse. Your landlady should always check and double check she has selected the correct date from the drop down menu. Your landlady will never have same day turnarounds again, I will work on a strict system of leaving on a Tuesday? next guest can only arrive on a Wednesday. It will be much better for everyone. I am gutted that I have done this and believe me I am trying everything to get it sorted out. I am a technophobic arse who now feels the sweat of doom tricking down her back when she hears or reads 17th August.

EBD student finance application - I can't support her application until I find the 2 P60's I lost when doing my tax return for the 2nd time because I am a form filling numpty arse and cocked it up the first time. I also need council tax statemnts, child benefit statements and tax credit letters. I have no idea where I put them to keep them safe . I hate forms with a passion and will procrastinate till the end. This is now the end.

In addition to the lost stuff above I cannot find The Beautiful Son's bankbook, this is annoying him as he wants to pay some birthday money in and take some out to buy a new bike and understandably he wants it now, his exams are finished and he wants to be off with his mates. I am an "I'll put it in a safe place" arse

I bumped into someone's car and I have got to fill in an insurance claim again. I have had 3 bumps in 20 years, 2 of them have been in the last 7 months. I am an arse who can't judge distance.

I should have sent a letter registered post, I didn't and I am now worried it's gone astray. A "should have been more organised" arse.

I can't remember the last time I cooked a meal for my children from scratch.

I seem to spend my life saying to the children "can't you see I'm working?" ever such a lot.

My lovely teaching parenting skills, aka kissing squishing babies work, the group I set up 10 years ago is closing. The place I rent my room from is closing down and I haven't the energy or impetus to find new premises with a multi sensory room attached for the babies. I used to do it 3 times a week, now down to a Tuesday morning only, I would be sad about it if I could find the spare brain space.

This is in addition to the usual worries of

my weight
my wrinkles and grey hair
my "I'm not an expert at work" yet
my "I don't earn enough money to keep them in Jack Wills"
my Dad and my sister's health
my " oh my God, how much have I damaged them with the divorce"

Again I am running on empty, I am utterly exhausted. Thank you for listening

TMI

I work on a strictly need to know basis. I can only cope with so much reality at a time. Then I don't have to get myself worked up to either full fat grumpiness or cross shouty shreikyness on a daily basis. Because I have 3 children plus a Hot Boy so you know there are plenty things to get me up to 90 (that probably doesn't translate outside of Scotland/Ireland, it means in a tizzy)

Beautiful Baby Daughter has been going to Girls Brigade for the last 3 years, I have said before I have nothing but gratitude and admiration for people who volunteer in any activity for the benefit of other peoples children.

BBD has come home with a letter which has given me far too much information.

I have found out that 1 of the 19 year old young leaders is pregnant
That she has been in a relationship with the father for nearly a year
That she is not married
That the other leaders and chaplain feel she should stand down as a leader because she hasn't promoted Jesus's guidelines in her own life but she can still attend the group so they can offer her "support and friendship"
That they "do not condone her behaviour" and they accept that "we all make mistakes" and they will allow her to become a young leader again "when her personal life becomes more stable"

I don't like the tone of the letter at all, I can appreciate that it must have been a difficult situation for the Church, they have to promote Christian values but they also have to survive in a world where the majority of people don't abide by the 10 commandments. I just feel it has been very clumsily handled.

The letter wasn't in an envelope just a typed sheet given to the girls to hand on to parents. Does reading that letter make a young girl feel bad about herself because her parents weren't married in the first place? Does reading that letter make a girl feel bad because her parents are divorced? Does reading that letter make a girl feel bad because she might also be having sex (the group has girls aged up to 18 in)?

Now I wonder did I need to know all that? But now I do and it just doesn't sit well with me. My usual default setting is to let it go, it doesn't really affect me but I now have had to think on this, because they wrote to me and I have an opinion now, and as the Church has felt the need to give me all this information I now want to give the Church my take on this.

Dear Church

He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.

Yours sincerely

auntiegwen

Another fine place we can go back to

Hello my lovely internets, did you have a good weekend?

Now that all our restraining orders have been lifted, the family von strange aka auntiegwen and the weans went out for brunch to celebrate the bold boy being 16. We went to Roodys because Katyboo keeps blogging about how great it was. If you want to look at cake porn click on the word Roodys and the magic bloggy fairy shall take you there.

And it was, we had paninis, we had milkshakes, we had cupcakes, we had pancakes, we had icecream, we had a squidy thing made with curly wurlys. We also had what I call space dust (I'm of an age) you may call it popping candy.

Like Katyboo says, it looks great, the food tastes fab and the service is amazing. Please go if you're around that part of the world, we had a 30 minute drive to get there and we weren't disappointed.

And the best bit?

The best bit of all?

They didn't turn a hair when Hot Boy tried to snort his space dust like cocaine. What? he has an enquiring mind. If you also are curious, let me save you the trouble, nothing happens and you are left with a very sticky nose.

You're welcome.

A chuisle mo chridhe

Tomorrow The Beautiful Son will be 16. I love being his Mummy, although he drives me round the bend with...

his omnipresent moaning about how slow our Internet speeds are
his work shy tendencies
his eat anything and worry about ownership later stuff
his ability to wind both his sisters up to cross, shouty, shreikyness
his complete disinterest in revising for any test or exam
his total obsession with stripping down his bike/Call of Duty/youtube/facebook and twitter

BUT

He still talks to me.
He still kisses me and hugs me at least once a day.
He makes me howl with laughter in a way no one else can.
He knows when I'm upset when no one else notices.
He said on FaceBook (which makes it official) that I was the person in the whole world he was closest to.

I wouldn't change a thing, he makes me happy and I love him. Jack, a chuisle mo chridhe.

You'll pay for that...

Is it just me who thinks that if something nice happens it will inevitable be followed by something not so nice just to redress the balance? I have just had a wee jolliday to the Algarve, I had days of sun lolling around here...


And evenings eating and drinking around here...



And for my penance?

Just as I'm enjoying the last bit of sun I get a text from Beautiful Baby Daughter which reads "It's not a matter of life and death but what time are you getting back as we need to tidy up?" So I immediately think Jesus it must be horrendous if they're thinking they need to tidy, they could quite happily live in a skip normally.

When I was on the plane a text arrived saying "if you want coffee you may want to buy milk" I left 12 pints on Tuesday as I went to Waitrose just before I left. The mahoosive shop I did before I left had been eaten so as soon as I'm home back to Waitrose I go.

The washing basket which was empty when I left had been filled up and had a pile just as high beside it left for me, the washing machine had also had a nice break just like me and the nice days of sunshine which would have dried the washing a treat were a mere memory as yesterday it rained biblically because I had 3 machine loads to do and dry. And iron.

The dishwasher has packed up, it won't drain gawdonlyknows what they've put in it while I've been away.

My lifesize cardboard cutout of David Tennant was missing when I got back, I later found him in the wardrobe. Since then he has been found right outside The Beautiful Son's bedroom door, in my bed and this morning was last seen in the children's shower cubicle. What can I say? this passes for entertainment in my house.

So, I has a nice few days off which were preceded with me doing a weeks worth of work stuff and home stuff before I went and have been followed with a weeks worth of work stuff and home stuff to catch up on.

Remind me again, who had a break?

A game of 2 halfs

Once upon a time this blog was filled with tales of nights out, drinking, flirting and gigs. Now it's filled with tales of kitchen porn and The White Company. It's so hard to keep my reckless middle aged streak at bay.

Readers, in a last ditch attempt to redress the balance, I shall regale you of my Saturday night out.


I went all the way up to Sheffield to see Kasabian. Incidentally the support band Modern Faces were brilliant, another great band singing in their own accents.

One up to the recycled teenager within.

I was right up at the front, 3rd row from the stage, not in the upstairs viewing area with seats, oh no, down with the moshers, close enough to see Tom Meigham's spots and be envious of his ring finger tattoo.

Two nil

I got soaking wet in beer and other peoples sweat

Three nil

I got moshed and bashed around mainly by topless men.

Four nil

I wasn't wearing sensible shoes

Five nil

I didn't leave before the end, I stayed to hear the last song, even though that meant having to pay for an extra 2-4 hours in the car park, yep an extra £4 for 5 minutes. In the clip coming up, I was much nearer the front, just in front of Tom the lead singer.

Six nil.



I went to bed on a different day to when I got up.

Seven nil

Oh yes, I've still got it, middle aged, pah...

I shan't mention the fact that I was cross that it cost extra to book online even though you could only book online, or that it cost £10 to post them even though there was no option to collect in person or that they charged for ticket insurance or some such other nonsense and that the total cost bore no relation to the advertised price. No indeed, for that would make me sound middle aged.

And I shall gloss over the fact that getting covered in sweat and beer made we very wet and quite chilly on the drive home.

We won't go into my feet hurting quite a bit as they weren't in their usual fitflops. In fact they suffered the podiatral equivalent of vertigo.

We shall also make light of my attempts to master the iPhone (yes, eventually I too, have been appletized) and you don't need/want to know that the reason I succumbed to said iPhone was because the buttons and text on the BlackBerry pearl were just too small in the end.

And you are most definitely better off without the knowledge that my best friends mum (who I love dearly but is a pensioner) was giving me tips on using said iPhone and said to me, in the most helpful manner, "if you turn it sideways it makes the keys bigger and easier to type"

Which would have been so much better if it hadn't been preceded with the query to my best friend asking "how can I reply to Wendy if she texts me?"

I think we'll call it a draw, you're not counting any more

Thank you

... for all your good wishes and thought, prayers and virtual hugs. Unfortunately when my sister went for her scan there was no heart beat. It must be devastating to hear that once but for the 4th time, I can't imagine.

So thank you, it's nice to know people care.

News from The Mother Country

I have been home on a wee quick jaunt to see The Beautiful Parents. All is not as good as it could be.

Gadget Mad Dad back in the day worked for the gas board, fitting fires and cookers etc, as is a gas fitters wont. For the last few years he has been struggling with breathlessness and was diagnosed with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease which was not entirely unexpected as he's been a smoker for 50 years plus. It now turns out that the main reason for this breathlessness is pleural plaques which are caused by asbestos exposure. There isn't anything that can be done really, except hope it doesn't turn into Mesothelioma which is the cancer caused by exposure to asbestos. The problems don't start until 30-40 years after exposure. Unfortunately, they both looked after my mums Uncle Ricky who died of this so they are more than a little apprehensive at what may be ahead of them. He is really struggling to breathe and this is the reason the beautiful parents didn't come with us to Turkey at Easter, they never miss their 2 weeks there at the beginning of May.

I try not to write too much about my sister and her deep deep need to have a 3rd baby, it's her private stuff but she has been trying for many years now and her last 3 pregnancies have ended in miscarriage. She is pregnant again but has had some cramping, so she's off for a scan this morning, I just hope that this time everything is okay.

Life gets a bit sucky sometimes doesn't it?

Things you don't want to read

Dear Client

Please be advised that Travel Junky is currently in the process of entering into voluntary liquidation and will cease trading formally on 31/05/2011 (today)

This is what greeted me this morning in an email and I clicked on it quite happily as I thought it contained my boarding passes for next weeks trip to Portugal.

And as I am not turning into my mother AT ALL, I am completely reassured by their declaration that " If you have made a booking with us and are concerned about receiving our service then you do not need to worry because all our suppliers have already been paid in full so no clients should be affected by this"

Sure, it'll all be fine. I'm not concerned at all, not even a teeny tiny bit.

The auntie needs a new kitchen post.

I need a new kitchen, mine is shabby and tired, slightly falling apart and going off colour, a bit like me in room form.

I have 3 Cath Kidston tea towels, some flowery clothes peg fridge magnets (xmas pressie from my friend Sixy)and some wobble stripe CK oven gloves just quivering in retro style floral porn anticipation. I even bought a set of Kitchen Devil knives. But no nice new apple green painted walls and cream shaker style units with silver bar handles and a pastel ice cream coloured smeg fridge dream kitchen to put them in.

All together now poor, poor auntie.

But I have a cunning plan.

Not like The Beautiful Son's plan of sleeping with older people for money, I fear I may not get enough for the paint. A betterer plan. Remember when Peter Kay did his "Mum wants a bungalow" tour? This is the "auntie needs a new kitchen" campaign.

Hot Boy has always said when he gets famous (outside of Germany, where his band are really, really popular) he will buy me a new kitchen.

Today Hot Boy's band who I think should call themselves Hot Boy's Band, loads of people searching on T'internets will be lead to their site (yes, I think it is a much better name, I thought it up all by my very own self) anyhoo they release their album "Of regard and affection" today. They, however, are still sticking with calling themselves i am in love.



If you all buy the album and tell everyone you know to buy the album, Hot Boy will become famous and will have to buy me a new kitchen to stop me telling the tales that couldn't be put on the blog, yep that's right, you had the heavily edited highlights. God help us all, you only get a smidgen of what he's like.

He will be 21 on Monday and has a huge exam to sit today so send all good positive vibes his way, pleasey please, and if you wanted a good 21st pressie or passing your exams pressie...

Or Eldest Beautiful Daughter has said she'll marry Prince Harry.

She has a 3 pronged strategy for meeting him so he can fall madly in love with her

1 - She teaches at a military school and he comes on an official visit

2 - William and Kate have a child that she becomes the personal tutor of

3 - When Hot Boy is playing at the festivals this summer, she will be hanging around in the VIP area as Hot Boy's plus one and as Hot Boy is wooing the crowds she will engage Prince Harry in flirty banter about her red and white polka dot wellies.

So, the choice dear readers is up to you, you can pay the money for Hot Boy's album or EBD will have to marry into clan Windsor.

You know what's the right thing to do.

We survived

So, the world didn't end and it's still business as usual. I'm sure we all enjoyed the skiving off part though but it was a bit pants to realise I did actually have to clean up and get back to work.

I am a poorly auntie, if I was a man I would have flu but as a mere auntie I just have a cold. I am feeling slightly under par so have retreated to bed (after finishing work of course, couldn't let my unblemished I've never had a day off sick record go, could I?)

I love my bed with a passion some people reserve for their spouses. Nothing makes your auntie more cheery than going to bed. And now I can take to my bed, sans guilt, in the manner of a consumptive Victorian heroine, I have the cough nailed. Please feel free to pop by with grapes and anything else you think would make auntie better.

And so, dear readers I shall leave you with the bed of loveliness in all it's glory.

Scroll down, let's have a little anticipation.




I paid The White Company a lot of money for my bed linen, you know, let's get my money's worth.






Ta da!!!!!



Middle class porn for middle aged ladies at it's best, I'm sure you'll agree

The end.

Well my lovely readers, it's been a blast, 4 years of me spouting the gospel of St Gwen, patron saint of procrastinators, middle aged women and failed grown ups.

All good things must come to an end and so I bid thee farewell, if the world does end tomorrow at 6pm I am not wasting my last day cleaning the kitchen, I will retreat to the garden and read a book, but what a choice I have to make, I mean if this is my last book I want it to be a good one.

And tonight I will have everyone I love with me (except Hot Boy as his band have a gig at The Good Ship in Kilburn, if you're local pop along) and we will eat drink and be merry.

And if the world doesn't end tomorrow I will have had my day in the sun and the Kasabian tickets, forthcoming trip to Portugal and new high heel peep toe wedges won't go to waste.

See you on the other side. Failing that probably next week.

Where did I go wrong?

I have a lovely son, a son that I love and adore, a son I have tried so hard to make into a well rounded human being (okay a regular human)

Sometimes I think I've cracked it, he'll show me a depth of feeling or a sense of empathy and understanding that I am still surprised by, and I will allow myself a proud mummy feeling. I will bask in the glow of maternal pride and think I made him.

Other times not so much.

On Saturday he was telling me about his cunning plan to make money. He is going to find himself an older lady who he will accompany to parties and business functions and he will then sleep with her. For money.

My son, aspiring to be on the game. I am so proud, my friends sons only want to Doctors and lawyers, my son wants to be a gigolo.

He has found a website called sugarmommies which promises to spoil young men and he is so looking forward to being 16 so he can join said site.

Far be it from me to tell him of the flaws in his cunning plan. I am sure that successful business women will be flocking to him, every woman who has climbed the corporate ladder would be dying to have a 6 foot 2 lump of useless who needs washing, dressing and plugging into his Ipod every morning, wouldn't she?

And I'm sure any ones work colleagues would be madly impressed with his urbane chit chat about Facebook, the best laughing babies on youtube and his extensive Call of Duty knowledge. He could whisper sweet nothings in her ear in his best GCSE French. He could wake her up every morning with a cup of coffee before he goes off to do his paper round. Who could fail to be jealous as he turns up on his BMX to collect his lady friend and give her a backy to said business functions with his pants on show to the world. And I'm sure he'd wear his best Jack Wills ones for such a lucky lady.

Flawless plan son, who wouldn't want to date this fine specimen of male?

In the last month I have been mainly...

at the beautiful house with the people I love, sunshine, good food, gin and laughter. Not too shabby, is it?

In other news...

Hot Boy and his band (whom he's rejoined but not sure if he's staying, lots of hard decisions to be made) have been played on Radio 1 as part of their introducing programme, please have a listen and buy lots of their stuff (album out on May 27th), Hot Boy has promised me a new fitted kitchen if they get famous, you wouldn't deny auntie a new kitchen, would you?

He's the one on the right of the picture, he's either in his black hoody with tartan shirt or stripped down to his burgundy vest. How he'll love that in years to come.

Eldest Beautiful Daughter has been in a Catholic school on a teaching placement. One of her first jobs was to escort the children to Mass, she's sat with a naughty child on either side of her and she's a bit bemused with the genuflecting and all, very different from her Presbyterian church going and naughty child says (in tones of great incredulity) "Miss, have you never been in a church before?"

The Beautiful Son is completely denying the need for any GCSE revision. He continues in his mad notion that exams are a reflection of what he knows on the day and any kind of revision is therefore cheating. Shame he's not doing GCSE's in Call of Duty or looking at laughing babies on youtube or annoying your wee sister. We'd be grand then.

Beautiful Baby Daughter is currently dementing me with her prom, I think it's a mad notion that when she leaves middle school aged 14, I have to lash out tons of cash for her to be in a frock more suitable for a nightclub (yes I am aware of how old that makes me sound, thank you very much) a hair do, and a ride to school prom in a limousine, is she from Essex? I think not. This bloody thing isn't until mid July but I am bored to death looking for shoes, dresses, accessories and I have abso bloody lutley refused both the fake tan and the white Hummer/pink stretch/fire engine or any other form of transportation that isn't a regular car. I know, bah Humbug phone Childline.

I am still working, still trying (and failing) to lose weight although I have started Zumba and last Wednesday myself and my friend Eileen went to our first fat loss body conditioning class, it was Sunday before I could walk down stairs without wincing. I know know what I'll be like as a pensioner. I am continuing to turn into my mother and it's escalated a fair bit. My forgetfulness and my misplacement of things is now up to Olympic standard currently searching for 200 cigarettes I brought back duty free for my dad last October (I had even forgotten I'd bought them till my mum asked them to bring them with me when I next go home) on the plus side I have found both my denim jacket and my Tiffany necklace. I don't live in a huge house, just a tip.

And that's been about it. What have you been up to?

Don't stop believing

Own up now, who's singing along now? and who's cursing their auntie for putting that tune in their head all day?

Ahem,

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin.

Once upon a time, there was an auntie, who blogged about being fat, how her children could outsmart her and her great longing for The White Company life. Only a few posts ago, she blogged about random acts of kindness and how they made her cheery. It's quite a job being cheery with the 3 work shy beautiful children and Hot Boy that auntie has, auntie has to work at it. It's why she blogs, because only the lovely readers actually keep her sane.

And lo and behold, as a reward for reading blogs and leaving comments she was visited by the Fairy Blogfather. Via Kellogsville, who also reads blogs and leaves comments. A great big thank you to you, Kellogsville, my dear.

And he bestowethed (shut up, that is a word, and if it wasn't before, it is now, made up all by my very own self) upon her the gift of Amazon. Not the river, it'd be a bugger to wrap.

This made her even more cheerful. More cheerful that when she looked at the 10 day forecast for her upcoming holiday and seen a big row of shiny suns. And that made auntie extremely cheery.

And to share this good fortune around, the Fairy Blogfather, who in his day job works for a company called appliancesonline and in his alter ego floats the bloggesphere dispensing £20 Amazon vouchers would like you to go look at his cookers (not a euphanism) and also leave a comment. Go on now, click HERE and go look at the cookers, I'll wait here till you get back. Okay, comment away and maybe the Fairy Blogfather will choose you next.

What a cool job, reading blogs and giving out vouchers, I know what I want to be when I grow up.

And shame on all of you who didn't believe in fairies, till now.

In which I reflect on why I'm tired

On Friday, I did a full days work, drove 200 miles and got stressed about parking taking the children to see Peter Kay. On Saturday morning I was back to being a bad mummy for not driving BBD the mile to cheerleading in the blazing sunshine, so I got up and walked with her, rather than sit in the sunshine with my book, I know, that is matenal devotion personified, isn't it? So we walk and this was the focus of the conversation.

BBD - I'm so looking forward to Hot Boy coming on holiday with us, it'll be so much better with someone else there, you're so boring on holiday, all you want to do is relax and read your book.

ag - when you're a Mummy you'll realise it's because it's tiring being a single parent with 3 kids and a Hot Boy, a job, a house that no one else cleans, laundry, ironing, shopping, heating up (I don't even bother now to pretend to t'internets I cook) and driving service, a cash machine, a sorter out of problems and a referee for all your disagreements

BBD - God Mummy, it's not like we don't appreciate you.

I won't bother telling you about my raised eyebrow at this, you can put that bit in yourself.

Saturday evening - my only Saturday evening without the 2 younger children this month, my night off, if you please, I arrange to meet best friend in the pub for wine and food and probably a moan about my weans. Just as I'm about to leave, EBD floats in and enquires where I'm off to, on being told the pub starts to pout.

EBD - Mummy I can't be on my own now, I've got too used to being in Halls where everyone is around all the time, Hot Boy got a free ticket to see The Vaccines and I've got no one to play with.

Oh you so know I took EBD to the pub, where she got free food and wine and she got to moan about how crap it is to be a student.

Nope, I've no idea why I'm tired either.

In the style of Bridgit Jones

Next weekend we are off on holiday. Nothing like it for motivating you to lose the winter weight, is there? Oh, except people who you're not related to coming with you, that helps too. I have no fear inflicting my flab in a bikini on my children, this year we will have the delights of Hot Boy joining us. I am less keen on letting Hot Boy see my wobbly bits. Never mind, I'm sure the compensation of enough blog fodder to keep me going all year will help.

Anyhoo, I started early, I thought if I gave myself 15 weeks (from after Xmas to Easter hols) I could lose a few stone quite easily. So I cut down, I got out and ran a bit, I gave up chocolate for a few weeeks, absolutely nothing. Not a pound. Bugger.

So because I now have to lose 3 stone by next Friday, this week I upped the ante, oh your auntie was upped, so she was.

On Monday, I went to Zumba for the first time with my friend Eileen, it's a bit like aerobics but with Latiny type music, I walked the 3/4 of a mile there and back and wiggled my wobbly bits for an hour inbetween. Total steps walked (yep, the pedometer's back) 16,000 that's 8 bloody miles. 1 glass of Rose with dinner and 4 chocolates out of EBD's birthday box. How can she be my child and have chocolates left nearly a whole month after her birthday? This probably explains why I need to lose 3 stone and she doesn't need to lose 3 pounds.

On Tuesday, I walked to my kissing squishing baby work and back, total 4 miles plus normal walking around, total of 12,000 steps, no wine and no chocolates, went to bed early to resist temptation. Grumpily.

On Wednesday, I walked around lots while I was training, and when there was a lunch break, I went out and walked then too. Actually bloody ran the 3/4 mile to Zumba, wiggled and wobbled more energetically than on Monday, ran the 3/4 mile back and then went for an hours walk with my friend Christina. No wine and no chocolate, total steps 20,000.

This morning, got up and felt every single one of the 13 muscles in each leg, I can't beleieve there are only 13, I couldn't remember from my nurse training so I googled it, I feel like I have 504 muscles in my legs at least. I stepped on the scales after having a wee and before coffee, no point in adding extra weight, fully expecting to have lost something.

Not a bloody pound. I hate dieting.

How to make a good impression at work

I work for a big UK wide charity. All the field staff are based at home (which is cheaper than having lots of wee offices everywhere for us to sit in) I like this, it means if I'm not out training people, I am in the dining room in my jammies. And we all know how I like my jammies.

The downside to this is

a - I have to have a ferocious amount of technology that me, myself and I alone have to operate and maintain, laptops, projectors, infra red pointers, speakers, shredders, scanners, printers. Jesus you should see my phone, it's like a switchboard, I can transfer any call to anyone in the organisation, well regular humans can, I just tell people it'd be quicker to redial, I seem to cut people off a fair bit.

b - We do a lot of things I have never done before such as conference calls, Internet meetings, signing out group documents etc and all kinds of spreadsheets that I am forever breaking. Don't even get me started on mail bloody merge.

c - there is no one around to show you what to do, if you're lucky you can ring someone and they'll try and explain it down the phone. This may work with regular humans, not so much with aunties. I spend a bit of time every week in a tizzy.

Every month I complete my expenses, I have a page for mileage (fine), things I've bought for work (fine) and then the receipts page (not so fine) I have to put the wee arrow in a certain box, put the numbered receipts to correspond with the line they appear on and while I've got another tab open reading the instructions for the scanning of expenses, click insert picture from scanner. You only get 1 go and if your scanned picture doesn't show the total, it's no use.

Me no likey.

My lovely boss has left and we are awaiting her replacement. This month I had to send my expenses to my ex lovely boss's boss. She's 1 down from the Chief. I had a real problem with the scanner yesterday (there's bog all wrong with the scanner, it's just me)so in my covering email I apologised and said I had had problems scanning the receipts in but I still had the original receipts and I could post them to her.

I received a very charming reply saying how sorry she was about my scanner but I hadn't actually attached the expenses document at all.

There's an internal vacancy for head of IT, guess she won't think I'm up to that then.

Welcome to the house of fun

Chez auntiegwen - a flavour if you please, a little taster of what my life can be like.

I get home to be greeted by TBS and BBD so excited they could burst. They proffer a tin of cat food and try to lead me to the conservatory where they tell me is the new pet cat Hot Boy has bought them. I am feart of cats, cats would be my last choice of pet - no harm to any readers who have cats, I'm sure yours are lovely, I'm just scared of them.

This followed a conversation that we've had many, many times over the years where the kids ask for a cat/dog/guinea pig/hamster/bunny rabbit/pony and I say no. The animal changes the answer doesn't. Hot Boy asked if he and EBD could get a cat, I say no (waste not your time wondering why Hot Boy wants a cat at my house, he thinks he lives here, he thinks he's one of us, he's even asked if he and EBD split up if I'll convert the garage for him as sleeping in the same bed with her would be awkward, he's only half joking) Hot Boy tells me he'll just get one anyway. I tell Hot Boy on no account is there a cat to be bought and brought to my house.

Hot Boy is the most difficult to manage of them all, he is the one I have least control over. He is the most impulsive of them all, he also has cash to fund this impulsiveness. He is less scared of me than the others as when I get to full fat cross shouty shreikeyness as he can leave and go to his own flat. He also has his own Mummy, he doesn't need me the way the others do. This is a deadly combination.

So as we go towards the conservatory, I am ready to kill Hot Boy, I am searching in my phone for his number and I am ready to do full fat cross shouty shreikeyness down the phone. It's not the same but it'll have to do.

We get to the conservatory and I make the others go in first to collect the cat, who I'm now worried that it'll have gone mad being cooped up in there and will have scratched the furniture to bits and shit all over my cream sofas. I'm hiding in the dining room scared to go much further and I'm now trying to work out what to do with this feckin cat.

Then TBS and BBD crack and nearly piddle their frillies, total wind up from them all, even to the extent of buying the cat food.

Bar stewards the lot of them.

This was on top of EBD fake pregnancy frape on FaceBook, which nearly caused my mother to have another stroke and more than a few people called and texted me to find out if it was actually true.

And TBS Facebook posting of a picture of chopped up polo mints, shaped into a line with a rolled up fiver beside it entitled "How to scare the living shit out of your Mum"

My life is so much funnier when you're only reading about it.

Take 2

If you've been reading a wee whiley, you may remember an attempted Primal Scream gig. I say attempted, as that night, the band in a very not rock n roll style finished their gig around half past nine.

This is very poor, even by my standards, which consist of jammies on and bed at the earliest possible opportunity.

Anyhoo, take 2 found me at the 02 place in where I do live, which is the arse end of nowhere, middle Engerland.

So, this time I arrived really really early, so early I had to amuse myself by throwing ice cubes down peoples T shirts for fun. I was there an hour and a half before before the band, to be on the safe side, it'd be pants to miss them twice.

So, 20 years on they play Screamadelica in it's entirety. I missed the 90's music completely being up to my arse in weans and nappies, Postman Pat and the wheels on the bus were the soundtrack to my life then. I now realise that Screamadelica is for the stoned, Mani kept the band's end of the bargain up beautifully, sadly I was drinking diet coke, not a euphanism.

The encore was, again, the best part of the gig. But, as always, being with your best mate and live music is an unbeatable combination.

Happy

I'm sure the lovely weather has had a massive impact on my cheeryometer but I am ridiculously happy at the moment. It's like the universe has turned it's random acts of kindness beam in my direction. I have been the recipient of several nice things recently and all of these are contributing to my warm fuzzy glow.

Things that have made your auntie happy, in no particular order

The sunshine

My lovely friend Libby send me an Edward Monkton book on shoes and a Scottish tea towel to make me laugh. Thank you Libby, much as I love the book it's the thought that you saw it and you thought of me that I love, I am blessed with great friends.

Alienne very very kindly offered to send me her copy of the Hardeep Singh Kohli book, and she did. Last Saturday I read it, sat in the garden in the sunshine, how good is that? So many thanks to you, Alienne.

A lovely lady emailed me from America to say she's been reading for a year and she enjoys the blog, how cool is that? a lovely non work email. Another lovely man from Portugal did too and I'd love to read your blog back but it's in Portugese.

I am running again, not to real running standards but wobbly and slowly I have my trainers on and am putting one foot in front of the other. It is a joy to be out in the sun.

Kellogsville and Mde Worthington are encouraging my running on twitter. Laura and I are getting excited about the new Cath Kidston shop on twitter.

I am participating in the 30 day song challenge I heard about on facebook, I am loving that.

The people at Innocent sent me free tokens to buy juice with, I love free stuff, Innocent, I love you, there is a game to play too, to win free stuff http://juice.innocentdrinks.co.uk/ The White Company, what's keeping you?

At present the children are happy and not trying to poke each other with sharp pointy sticks, even metaphorical sharp pointy sticks. That's got to be a win?

Oh and the sun is shining, did I mention that? Tell your auntie, what's making you cheery?

11.15 am - Happiness update - the postman has just been and delivered a card from my dear friend Libby, sent just because she was thinking of me, how lucky am I to have such a good friend?

3 by 9

When Mrs W asks, Mrs W gets, even in the same week! boy am I impressed with my blogging efficiency

Three names I go by: Mummy, auntiegwen and Wendy

Three places I’ve lived: Glasgow, Edinburgh and Leicestershire

Three places I’ve worked: Hospitals, schools and home (boy do I work at home!)

Three things I love to watch: Sex and the city, Chewin the fat, Take me out (my very guilty and now not so secret pleasure)

Three places I have been & love: what, other than Scotland?

Olu Deniz and surrounding area, Turkey - my other home, Inshallah may it always be so

Paris - my favourite city

New York - it edged Prague and Barcelona and Rome and Portofino, just

Three people that email me regularly: work, work and work although out of work it has to be Libby and I sometimes have people who read the blog email me, I love these emails, I love any non work related emails

Three things I love to eat: cake especially coffee cake, strawberries, pizza

Three things I am looking forward to: my decree absolute and the recognition of the beginning of my new life it brings, summer as I am heartily fed up of lack of sunshine, and getting back into shape and being less of a lardy auntie.

I am supposed to tag 3 readers but I am rubbish at choosing and I know lots of my bloggy friends have already been tagged, I would like to hear from all of you so please consider yourself tagged, I know lots of lady bloggers will as I've read a few already so what about the boys? did anyone tag them, panic not, it's not kiss chase so Steve, Troy, Nota Bene and Andy would you like to play?

No offense

I rang my daughter yesterday. The eldest one who allegedly has left home. There was no reply. A few minutes later I receive a text message

EBD - I'm in a seminar, what's wrong? x

ag - sweetie I love you and think you're great and all but if there was something wrong, would you really be the best person to ring? xxxxx

EBD - point taken, I'll be home at 2, if you're in we'll go get coffee and cake, our eyebrows waxed and go to waste your money type shops, I got paid xx

It's lovely when you know each other so well.

In which I nearly spit out gin.

I'm not often lost for words. I know, you're shocked at that revelation aren't you? What can I say?, even I, Queen of the smart arse remark, can, on occassion, be stumped for the correct response.

Anyhoo, I was having a conversation with someone about their upcoming date. This was a first date with a man they had met through t'internets. I wasn't shocked at that. I was, however, surprised that t'internet site was based on rich men taking women out and paying for everything. Well, London has it all, doesn't it?

So, a site where rich men take women out for drinks and dinner and expect nothing in return, just the pleasure of your sparkling chit chat and company.

I nearly spat out my gin and tonic, my £5.35 gin and tonic!!!!!!! (and it wasn't even Bombay Sapphire, just Gordon's)

Aye right. (to be heard in as Glaswegian accent as you can manage)

auntiegwen's guide of what not to do - decorating for numpties

We are still deep in decorating chez auntiegwen. As always, I started without a clear plan of what I was doing and then made it up as I went along. This is not clever and also frighteningly expensive. As I am public spirited to my very core and I am so fond of you, my lovely readers, read on so you don't weep for you will not make the same mistakes as your auntie.

Do not try and paint your room the same colour as the sky in your Christmas present painting. A trained and talented artist spent years learning to lovingly blend colours to get the irridescence of a winter sky. A wee spotty boy in B and Q with an hours on the job training is unlikely to be able to recreate the tonal effect of said sky, no matter how good the paint machine is. You will feel like a numpty stood there with your painting under your arm. Even the wee spotty B and Q boy with his 1 hours training knows he can only do flat colours.

Ditto in the carpet shop.

Do not think that you and your offspring can paint a room. You can but you will reach cross shouty shreikyness fairly quickly and what you save on a properly trained and experienced painter and decorator you will spend on gin, you pays your money, you take your choice.

If you do manage to get a shade of beigey pinky greyey paint you like, DO NOT (in capitals for emphasis) paint all 4 walls if you only need 3 doing as you are having 1 wall with feature wallpaper. I emphatically did not make a mistake, I knew I only needed 3 but I also knew it may take quite some time to get around to wallpapering said wall and I felt that it would look better meantime to have all walls the same colour.

If you base the whole theme of the room on the 2 rolls of wallpaper on the feature wall, it is then A VERY BAD IDEA to decide that you are not actually a feature wall sort of person and you actually like all 4 walls in the beigey, pinky, greyey paint. Especially if you have driven to no less than 5 branches of B and Q in a 50 mile radius of your house to buy the 2 rolls of wallpaper.

Check that the beigey, pinky greyey silk lightshade that is the perfect shape to match the bedside lamps and that you fall in love with is actually for a ceiling light and not a lamp. There is a difference, who knew?

If you have champagne tastes on a beer income do not even have a sneaky peek at The White Company website or catalogue, it doesn't come with an addiction warning.

When you actually succumb to The White Company do not add up what your bedlinen cost you, because when people ask you in shocked tones what your pure silk bedspread in taupey grey, your 2 sets of grey piped duvet covers and Oxford pillowcases and the extra deep kingsize bed sheets costs you will be truthfully unable to tell them, this is much better for your mental health. Especially when you realise that your pure silk bedspread doesn't actually serve a purpose, it just lies there looking pretty.

Do not buy an extra metre of pelmet covering fabric to make cushion covers and tie backs, yes, you will be fair away with yourself and may fancy yourself as the next Kelly Hoppen thinking your room will look very what swish and co-ordinated but if you have no idea of how to and no means of making these cushion covers and tie backs, it isn't one of your better ideas. Especially when you actually prefer your interim solution of your curtains tied back with the black and cream ribbons you get tied round your Links of London jewellery boxes.

Do not try and outsmart yourself. I have a tendency to live with things unfinished, this time I have tried to overcome this by buying everything for the room at once, new furniture, new carpets, new linen, bedside lamps, light shade, curtains (paid extra to be made up quicker) and fabric plus tonal piping for to cover the window pelmets and to make tie backs and cushion covers for the bed. This was ANOTHER VERY BAD IDEA I have spent more than I earn and I get panicky if I can't clear my credit card bill in full every month. I am now afeared of the big feck off bill shortly due from my credit card.

When your room looks beautiful, it becomes a sanctuary for you. Your calm and serene room awaits you every night, lovingly inviting, not just to you but also for your nearest and dearest. They also wish to spend time in the calm and elegant sanctuary. This unleashes your inner Monica, I now clean and hoover every day, my usual slattern has been replaced by a cross shouty shreiky creature who doesn't want people to walk in her room as it leaves footmarks in the carpet and the thought of people lounging around on my bed makes me ill, I mean their feet might touch my pure silk White Company bedspread! I now want a lock on my door as I know when I am in London for a few days they will roll around and mess my bed up and send me pictures of them doing it, with glee on their faces.

When you have finished it just makes the rest of the house look so shabby so you think I'll have a go at the rest... and so it begins... decorexia.