20

Today my beautiful son is 20, tomorrow my beautiful baby daughter sits her last A2 level and will never be at school again.

Sometimes  it seems like in a heartbeat they are grown and gone. Sometimes when they are being particularly challenging, the grown up and gone thing can be a long time coming.

This photo was taken on Olu Deniz beach in 2005 or 6, I think, it shows Jack and Lucy on an empty beach, just playing. It has always been one of my favourites.

Happy birthday Jack 

Good luck Lucy

I love you more than you will ever know.

You are both, and always will be, a cuisle mo chridhe, the beat of my heart

In which I fail at holidays, work & exams

We have returned from our Eurocamp holiday. It was an experience, Eurocamp are about to receive a very middle aged lady/rantieauntie letter about said experience. I expect neither of us will be happy about it. Mostly it was absolutely fine but we did have some whoppers of issues that just weren't handled at all, never mind well. We loved Brittany and we will definitely be going back but I doubt Eurocamp will be getting any of our money.


Speaking of money, I have a new job to start next month which I am vaguely afeared of, still with the same charity but in a different role and strategic was mentioned a ferocious amount of times. I'm not really a strategic kind of auntie but as no one will pay me cash money to sit on my sofa and eat maltesers, I have to do something, allegedly  I am too young to retire. This new job will facilitate the buying of afore mentioned maltesers and as I won't have my current job after June 30th, it's fairly handy to be starting the new job on 1st July so.


Chez auntiegwen is in A level mode for the last time, Beautiful Baby Daughter has officially left school and is on exam leave, 3 exams to sit on Fri June 5th, 12th & 19th and then she is done. My patience and understanding and not responding to any goads, taunts, complaints and downright whinges has to last until Fri June 19th at 12.30pm, after that all bets are off. I hope she buckles up. It has been tougher that the other 2 put together and the drama llama has his arse firmly through our door. I made the mistake of trying to console her with the knowledge that she has an unconditional offer and will be going anyway. Apparently that's not the point, I just don't understand. I am also an extremely bad parent as I am never here when she needs me, I am constantly gadding about on holiday and I forget I actually have a child at home. Yes, this is my 18 year 9 month old and not some random infant I had misplaced. 19/06/15 @ 12.30, I keep telling myself that's all I have to get to.


How've you been yourself?

A little bit of red

Clearly I am knocking on a bit now but today my youngest child voted in her very first election. Gawd, that really makes me feel old. Not overly impressed was she with the whole procedure and peeved she couldn't vote for the SNP, strangely they had no candidates standing in Market Harborough. When she was small, she came with me to vote and made everyone in the queue laugh by asking in a very loud and crystal clear voice "Are you voting for the conservatory party or Tony Bloody Blair?" I think I would be more excited about voting if they promised me a free conservatory, I do miss having one.


I am in a very cba place re this election, I have always been political, I have marched protested and generally got off my arse to try and change things. I have always, always voted and been grateful that I could do so. Yet this time I feel totally disconnected from it, I know my that my little bit of red will not make any change  here and we will return our very blue MP of 23 years, a titled QC no less, I am sure if we met, Sir Edward and I, we would get on like a house on fire and find loads of common ground, I expect he has worked in the public service all his life too and been a single parent with a mortgage and lots of money worries. he probably grew up on a council estate in Glasgow, just like me.


I am used to the feeling that whatever I voted it really wouldn't make much difference as I grew up in Scotland during the 1980's & 1990's, where were no Tory MP's in the whole of Scotland but Thatch & Major got a go of the big job anyway. So I am not sure why I feel so meh about it. But meh I feel.


Still, my little bit of red will balance out my husband's little bit of blue.

Whatever happened to the heroes

Mr auntiegwen and I have very little music we both like. This is due to the fact that I am 4 years older than the lovely mrauntiegwen (if you click on the name it will take you directly to his blog, it's better than this one and he can put pictures on without his laptop having a midlife crisis like mine) and the fact that I listened to nothing other than the wheels on the bus and wind your bobbin up from 1992 to 1999 (when the beautiful baby daughter went to school and I went back to listening to the Sex Pistols and The Stranglers, all this was when mr auntiegwen was listening to The Cramps and the Violent Femmes.  I don't know what's worse.


The one band we both loved was Simple Minds and we found out that Sarah  Cox had Jim Kerr on a tellybox thing, we settled down and prepared to sing along.


You forget that the people you thought were cool and good looking age just like you do. Somewhere in the last 2 decades Jim Kerr has morphed into a mix of my ex husband and Alec Salmond. I haven't put the photos in, because I am a kind auntie, you're welcome.


Best just to remember them in their prime

23 and 9

Every year we have a May half term holiday with The Boy Wonder, who is the son my husband made earlier, if you don't get that splendid joke, clearly you are far too young for this blog, be off with you and return when you have grey hair.


Now as my husband only made one child, that child needs entertaining. I have never had to do entertaining on that scale as I made three children. When my kids were small they would never entertain the notion of going to a kids club so we rented villas and they all amused each other, when you have one child in a villa you are the only option. Last year's holiday and the dawn to dusk entertaining clean wore us out. This year we have opted for a Eurocamp in Brittany as we hope that having a kids club and other kids around will allow TBW to make some chums and we can have a conversation at some point over the week.


At lots of points in my life do I wonder what is going on. Never more so when I am going to a caravan in France, in a half term week, with lots and lots of overexcited, shreiky children and non guaranteed sunshine and the fight for a non towelled sun lounger.


Especially  when  I realise that my children no longer come on holiday with me as the youngest is 18 and I own a beautiful villa in Turkey with every home comfort imaginable in a quiet spot, no children around, sun splitting the stones and 6 of my very own loungers, I can put my posh hamman towels on any one of them I fancy.


23 years of parenting in and 9 more to go and you just know that someone in the next 9 years will have a baby and we will be destined to be doing this children malarkey for ever. And never once does anyone think of me as a mummy blogger!

Here's a thing

Today I have a 23 year old child. That 23 year old child has neither fillings nor ASBO's. She does have a degree and a job and lives independently. I don't even have to wash her pants!!!How on earth did I manage to create such a wonderful human?
 A very happy birthday EBD, I luff you, and even if I didn't have to luff you, I still would, because you are, and always will be mo chridhe

Travels with your auntie

I have been away, I am now home and normal auntie service has resumed. I have had 2 jollities, 1 with husband and one without. Med mand (is not the tinternest marvellous? I found the Danish for with husband in a peko second) the jollity took us to  to Copenhagen, it was very cold, on the same jollity, we went to Malmo, over the Orsesund bridge (I can't be faffed trying to find the proper O with a line through it, just pretend I have) on a train, the very very bridge that Saga and Martin went on (if you are wondering if my last marble has rolled away, it's from The Bridge, the most marvellous of marvellous tellybox programme)


In Malmo, it too was very cold. Mr auntiegwen took eleventy million pictures in both places, I hardly recognize him without a camera attached to his face, I expect if he ever sits down for more than 2 minutes he will blog all about it, with nice pictures, my laptop hates pictures and it takes a long time (which clearly I haven't got much of left) and quite a lot of swearing, you might be better waiting for him. I liked all of the jollity, we even caught sight of a new Nordic noir drama that hopefully will make it's way here called "The Team", we tried very hard to keep up but they don't do English subtitles when you're in Denmark.


After my return from med mand jollities, I went to Essex for work, not normally my stamping ground but I did get 2 diet cokes and a big long chat with Note Bene, glad he could fit me in with all his canapé ing, witty chit chat and flirting with the French ambassador.


My ohne Ehemann jollity took me to Germany (see what I did there? oh I'm fair away with myself today) and I went to visit Eldest Beautiful Daughter who is now living in Dusseldorf. We had the luffliest of luffly times, I luff that child, she is just wonderful and I adore spending time with her. Germany was properly bonkers and Ehemann is gutted that he missed  EBD's local shop displays, especially
- the hairdressers that has a random selection of stuffed toys, books and cake plates
- her landlord, who is selling off his "gone into a care home" mothers possessions in an empty shop
- the local furrier, all kinds of crazy going on there.
Worst of all, he  missed a house with a mural of their Labrador painted on their garage door and the biggest duck you have EVER seen, (not on a garage door mural, on a pond) in your whole wide life, and I am very old and have seen a lot of ducks, this was a mutant.


Anyhoo, I'm back and I am going to have a big sit on the sofa, possibly with gin or wine and if I'm lucky, some maltesers to recover. What have you lot been up to?

Je suis auntiegwen

Just before we went to Paris there were the awful shootings in Paris, at feck it's early tomorrow we fly out to Copenhagen, I think I am a jinx!


Don't fret though as I have been to Edinburgh without any fatalities.
And it's been under  duress. Extreme duress.
Tis half term and beautiful baby daughter fancied a trip up to Edinburgh to see her brother, as they have spent the last few years embroiled in a sibling conflict on an epic scale, I was a wee bit surprised to say the least. Undeterred and heartened at the thought of sibling harmony, I agree to drive BBD to Edinburgh, she can spend some 1 on 1 time with The Beautiful Son, I will spend a bit of time with them and a bit of time with my chum auntielou and all will be well.


I am trying to gloss over the many hours spent in a car, with no escape, in hand to hand conversation with BBD, she is a child who can take offence at anything, and she does, she is extremely good at it. She has practised, a lot.
We also all pretend that she doesn't smoke and that being in an enclosed space with me and no escape to top up nicotine levels has the propensity to make her a bit tetchy. Nonetheless, we are undeterred and we headed North. We are now back, we have survived and we are still on speaking terms, this is a huge achievement. I have bitten a hole clean through my tongue and my eyebrows are still somewhere in my hairline but we are intact.


My son was like a puppy on speed, he was not on drugs nor was he drunk but he was very animated and bouncy, he is now 6 foot 5 and being with him was quite tiring, it was like he was still  his 6 year old self  who had consumed a LOT of sugar and was very overexcited as a result. My daughter was unpredictable, mood wise and I was quite exhausted at the end, auntielou was lovely as always, we have been friends now for over 25 years, she is understanding of the children, for that I am truly grateful, I don't have the usual explaining to do like I would with the unsuspecting public.


In the car on the way home, my BBD reminded me that I am a total hypocrite,  I am a "do as I say not as I do" Mummy, I shame her publicly for the mess in her bedroom, taking photos and everything  yet my car is a total disgrace, and she's right, it's a tip.  Je suis auntiegwen and my car is messy. Do you think that will cover public penance or do we need photos?

Pleased as pleased can be

The last couple of years have been very tricky for my younger daughter. She sort of lost her place in the world a bit, had some friends who weren't always making wise choices, made some bad decisions herself and had a tough time for a while. It really was like an explosion in a WTF factory, we never knew what was coming next.
People were very quick to judge and to write her off, but to her credit, she changed schools, her attitude changed tremendously and she got her self back on track.


Now she has 5 offers from universities, some really decent ones, I think Warwick is the highest ranking of her offers, definitely in the top 10 UK uni's but it is number 1 in the country in her chosen course.


Today she got an unconditional offer to study journalism at the university she really wants. 


I am just pleased that someone else can see her worth too

Things I just have to tell you...

My blog is now 8, thank you for bearing with me for all these years, from the bottom of my heart, I luffs you and am so grateful to share a wee bloggy space with you.


 I cannot believe how much has changed, the children are  22, 19 and 18, we have come a long way. They all now have qualifications, none are in jail and still no fillings. I should get a medal.
The children just get better looking and more interesting, however I am  now beginning to resemble a shar pei, an elderly and quite chubby shar pie. I remain, quite bewildered by life but now it may pass for early onset dementia.


I have been sent an official letter about my job, which I luff as it is being made redundant. In the letter was a confidentiality clause so I can't tell you what I think about losing my job, which I luff but I expect you can guess what I might be thinking. I am thinking it quite hard.


On a cheerier note, I went to Paris at the weekend, I have been to Paris with 3 different men in my life. I can't begin to tell you how much racier that makes me sound than I am in real life (see para 3, elderly chubby shar pei) How and ever, this trip was lovely, I luff Paris, there is a lot about what I luff in this post to stop me thinking about the bad stuff (see para 4, in which the aunties job is no more)


I luff the Eurostar, luff, luff, luff.


 I did not luff Searcy's champagne bar at St Pancras, we were massively underwhelmed and it wasn't underwhelmed kind of money. I am going to sound even more middle aged but the toilets were a disgrace. It should have been a gorgeous end to a gorgeous trip but Searcy's, you sucked.


In the next month I am going on trips (not by Eurostar, sadly) but sans weans (always a plus) but we are off to Malmo in Sweden and Copenhagen (which despite all of my children's education and the fact 1 of them has a degree and is a PRIMARY SCHOOL TEACHER (in capitals for emphasis), none of them knew which country it was in!) Any suggestions for Malmo or Copenhagen gratefully received.

The 12 Days of Parents

I have wondered and wondered about posting stuff now about my mother as her dementia erodes her own self, I've been blogging a long time now and I always felt that is you were related to me it was fair game. Now I'm not so sure.
We had as reasonable a Christmas as we could have done under very trying circumstances, having lots of people fundamentally unsuited to being with other humans (me, mainly) and all being cooped up together don't make for peace and goodwill to either men nor aunties. Unfortunately as neither of my parents can now drive and my dad has COPD, it meant they spent a lot of time at home, with me, nae luck to anybody there. Himself worked all through the Christmas break. Eldest Beautiful Daughter had to fit in visits to her dad, brother, friends & boyfriends family. Beautiful Baby Daughter was around some but with coursework, boyfriend and mates. The girls were brilliant with their nana but she's not easy to be with for long periods of time.  I did try and get them out, my mum will walk for miles, she has slowed down ever such a lot but she still loves a walk but because of my dad's COPD we are limited as to how far we can go.
Eating out is a pleasure of the past as mum eats very little now and can't cope with any kind of flavour (food was a big issue this visit) I enjoy eating out with them so much less as mum removes her teeth ( she has a plate with her top 4 central teeth) to eat or now drink anything and them smiles at everyone, alarmingly showing them her fangs, so any reports of Dracula's granny sighted in Market Harborough were just of my mother. She gets hugely cross when asked to put her teeth back in, grabs her omnipresent handbag (more of which anon) and storms out to go home.
Shopping was good, she enjoys this and can still read the word sale, double win as she enjoys a bargain. Less happy was the fight she put up when my dad was trying to dissuade her from buying a purple teeny tiny mini skirt. Anything bright pink or bright purple will be a winner, double points if it's soft and warm. This year I bought her pink UGG slippers and a pink and purple striped fleecy jumper, she loved them, Lucy said it made her look like a marshmallow flump, to be fair it did but she was happy and that seems to be everyone's goal now.


Attired in fleecy pinks and purples, she is accompanied everywhere by a large brown PVC handbag, she has lots of really lovely handbags but this  (AWFUL fake Mulberry bought from the market in Turkey) seems to be her favourite, she meticulously takes everything out of it,  always has a purse which she will check for her money, her bank cards and her drivers license (which is a laminated photocopy as her psychiatrist wrote to the DVLA to remove her license), she will show you all of these things telling you she has them. Then will come her fan (think of Spanish holiday souvenir circa 1975, all back lace and dodgy flamenco dancers) I have no idea why she brought the fan in December, she is always freezing - even in the summer and her shoes most usually if she has slippers on or vice versa. If we lost anything over Christmas in invariably turned up in Nana's bag. The bag got checked constantly if she was unoccupied, everything out, shown to you and back in again. Tinky Winky eat your heart out.
She has taken to wearing every item of jewellery she possesses all together, we are talking at least 10 rings and maybe 6 or 7 bracelets, 2 necklaces and a watch, but she can't tell time any more. The sparklier  and more bling the better, such a change from how she was before. She also likes to tell you about her rings and you have to admire them. One of the few things she properly enjoyed over the break was Lucy painting her nails, bright purple of course. She would look and admire her fingernails and then you could admire both the nail varnish and the rings.


She was much better in the morning but by late afternoon she was falling asleep on the sofa, her agitation was much higher then too. If my dad wasn't by her side she wanted to find him, waiting for him outside the loo several times a day, one comedy moment was her going out to the garden where he was having a  peaceful ciggy and a fly mug of tea to say "She says I have to leave you for 5 minutes to have your smoke"
 Her ability to converse has gone now, she can't follow the thread of any conversation, calls everyone sweetheart to avid using names and has several stock phrases which came in handy for nana drinking bingo.  She also thinks that what is on TV is real and quite often about her. She need regular updates on what we are doing/planning to do/when she is going home/that she can't go home today as the plane is booked for Saturday and it is far too far to walk etc.
Now she has declined so far, she is unable to do anything for herself unaided or unprompted, she has to be told to eat the food on her plate or drink her drink, she in not capable of choosing her food/drinks but can feed herself although my dad is now starting to cut some things up for her. She can't manage to wash or dress herself, she screamed the place down when she had her hair washed (and we HAD to wash it) she was furious with us but 10 minutes later all dry and fleeced up she was happy again.


So I had a glimpse into the groundhog day that is my dad's life, she needs him there constantly, even if she was with me for a few hours, she works herself up into a right old state about getting back to him and she only seems content if he is there beside her.
I feel awful that I can't really relieve him of the burden of caring for her, he doesn't see it as a burden, just as his life now, pragmatic chap that he is. I am trying to encourage him to take the befriender offer and use a day centre but he knows she only wants him, I try and say tactfully that he needs to look after himself as if he goes under, neither my sister or I would be in a position to offer full time care to her.


This is such a sad, sad story that I expect is very common as dementia seems to affect so many people. And sadder still that my mother will only get worse.

A year of adventures

2015 is going to be a year of awfully big adventures for myself and my beloved husband. We have spent the last few years juggling being a parent with looking after elderly parents, some of it has been easy peasy, some of it not so much. I am currently day 10 of my parents 12 days of Christmas visit.  The husband and I have survived by sheer blind determination and quite a lot of gin.
To compensate ourselves for all this duty (which, quite frankly is boring beyond belief) we have decided that 2015 will be the year where we do interesting stuff.
We have some fancy pants trips lined up, all booked and sorted, all we need now is some clean knickers and a toothbrush each. Fortunately Santa took care of that. Roll on 2015

Tis my season

to be a grumpy old woman. I genuinely love Christmas but Christ on a bike, do I yearn for the day when Christmas can be done how I would like to do it.


Where I can have a real tree and  not the tree of the glorious childhood days, which cannot be changed, not even one bloomin ornament, it has to be the same tree and decorations we have had for 22 years now. I would like to change the colour of the ornaments, I have wanted to change them for many years. It causes my 2 younger children unhappiness to have a change so I persist in the same gold theme. I can't wait for the day when either The Beautiful Son or Beautiful Baby Daughter have their own house and I can bequeath them the tree of the glorious childhood and I can be shot of the damn thing. God forbid, I should go mad and have a real tree and a non gold theme. The world would most probably end.


Where I can eat what I like and when I like it, champagne and toblerones mainly.


When I don't have to shop for thoughtful presents & wrap them beautifully. Even since my children were small, my parents have opted out of Xmas shopping by giving me cash and getting me to buy thoughtful gifts for their grandchildren, so they're retired and have tons of free time, I am working and doing everyone else's presents, Aunties have also adopted this tactic by citing the "oh as you live so far away, posting things is so difficult, let me give you the cash and you buy and wrap, so the children get a good present" argument. It sucks big time, when do I get to bung £20 in a card and be done with it?


 When I don't spend most of December buying enough food to feed a small African nation and enough wine to keep Bacchus happy, having grown up children has added a not inconsiderable amount of how much it costs to have them home for Christmas. Add to that, the constant cooking (okay, heating up) for them too. And add in parents who eat meat & 2 veg every day, we are almost exclusively vegetarian, a plate of pasta wouldn't be something they would eat. My mum in particular can't cope with any kind of flavour.  I am looking forward to the 12 days of parents mightily, can you tell? Gaah.


When I don't have to provide Christmas stockings with each thing individually wrapped in different paper to the paper we wrap the presents under the tree in (as Santa wouldn't have the same paper as me), where I don't have to leave Santa and the reindeers a snack and make a glitter footprint and hoof print on the hall carpet. For the love of God, you are nearly 23, 19 and a half and 18 now. Apparently I can stop the stockings when they are parents themselves. Enough already.


When I could be abroad, somewhere warm. Again, the world would end if I wasn't at home during the festivities, I have to be here as I have to make the Christmas magic happen.


I yearn for a festive season, which took up a day of my time in prep max and a relaxed Christmas day, maybe just me and my lovely husband relaxing, eating, drinking and looking at a real tree that isn't festooned in gold.

30

30 years ago today I became a student nurse. Sweet baby cheezus, where did those 30 years go? (mainly working, having children and getting married) In the last 30 years, I have mainly worked as a nurse or as a teacher, I now work for a medical charity and I spend a good amount of time now in universities teaching student nurses. I feel nicely full circley about that.


The NHS now seems very different from the NHS I worked in. I haven't had to use it much personally, only hospital admissions have been to have my babies so I feel very fortunate in my rude health.  I like to know it's there for me if I need it. Indulge me in my moment of warm fuzzies for the NHS, because we don't always appreciate what we have, until it's gone.

And when you thought it couldn't get worse...

Take your pick, let me know what you think is the worst, answers or shares of your own in the comments please


A - Someone who I  met a few years ago said in a cheery tone "the last girl who did your job was Scottish too" and when I reassured them that it was actually me they were quite disbelieving and said "Oh no, she was a little slim thing, you're at least twice her size"
I am now on the 5 - 2 diet, I started today, it's a 500 calorie day and I am quite tetchy, I expect I will have to go to bed early, in the interests of family harmony.


B - My parents are coming for Christmas, they are staying for 12 days. I don't like anyone if I have to spend 12 days in close proximity to them whilst having to be a cheery hostess. I am also having to miss my wedding anniversary trip up North to stay at the hotel we got married in and am missing spending New Year with my friend Lou in Edinburgh. No one should visit you for 12 days when you have to look after them.  NO ONE (in capitals for emphasis)


C - The Beautiful Son is working in Edinburgh on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day, he will be getting squillions of cash for it but he won't be with me, I shall miss him muchly. I am also sad that he will be waking up on Christmas morning on his own, unless he gets lucky on Christmas Eve. I expect there are some girls left in Edinburgh who he hasn't met yet.


D - My job that I luff is going as part of a restructure, I will be able to apply for one of the new jobs but they aren't my job, that I luff. Did I mention that I luff my job?


That's plenty isn't it, there's more but who needs to read my whiney whiney poor me's.

In which I am wrong again, naturally....

I am always wrong with  Beautiful Baby Daughter, my youngest child, no matter what I do or say, it's wrong. Everything I do annoys the bejaysus out of her. Especially breathing, and I do that a lot.


It's tiring. The being wrong, not the breathing, I can do that just fine, nae bother to yer auntie.
For the last little while, we have found a modus operandi, she comes home to sleep and shout at me. When I say shout, it's not usually full fat cross shouty shreikery but it's fairly hissy and unpleasant. I accept that I am her emotional punchbag and my husband leaves the room before he loses his ability to hold his tongue.


This week, I have been in trouble for


1 - Thinking I'm funny, it's one of my less endearing habits but I upset herself as when she was mid rant about her A level English language coursework (she has to watch "Celebrity Masterchef") I once again was showing off and remarked to my husband "Who says A levels are getting harder?" To which she went up like a rocket about how I think her choices of A level are too easy. AT NO POINT EVER - (in capitals for emphasis) have I ever complained about ANY of my 3's choices of A levels or degrees, I am never anything other than pleased that they are in school and not jail.


2 - The train being late - making her late for school. This is my fault because I moved to Alaska and I have not bought her a motorbike. She has no motorbike as the money I had for said bike was spent on her £900 plane ticket and spending money for her 3 week holiday with her boyfriend to his dad in America. To be fair, I only paid half,  her dad stumped up the rest but clearly I am channelling my inner BBD and the omnipresent "poor me, my life is poo"


3 - My failure to provide a full and efficient laundry service -  (she will be 18 next week, in the interests of clarity). I am presently working full time and am hindered by a north facing garden, the general weather and an innate distrust of not drying your washing outside, I have used my tumble drier about 6 times in a decade. I know, shoddy service, I'm just making excuses.


4 - My failure to provide more than 6 pairs of pants that fit properly - maybe that should be 3a, they were part of the laundry whine.




5 - Not paying enough attention when she speaks to me -  This is because when she arrived home, I was trying to find out where my kindle book had disappeared to after I had bought it, still haven't got it, I was being technologically challenged and I didn't provide her Majesty with the audience she required, I had the audacity to be too involved with my laptop.


6 - The fact that her laptop is broken - it has been broken for yonks, I have given her my laptop, the charger broke, I gave her money for a new charger - she refutes this, she insists the money was for a charger for her laptop and she bought that and it still didn't work, she uses my appalling memory of what I have handed cash over for as an absolute certainty that she is right.
 When I play my " I can't fund everything and you have had 2 holidays to the States plus spending money plus new clothes plus insurances plus visas plus toiletries plus new hair cuts etc etc etc she retorts with " well, if I'd have known it was a choice between something I needed for my education and a holiday, of course I would have chosen anew laptop.
AYE RIGHT - that should be imagined in as Glaswegian accent as you have ever heard. Also this morning when we had gone a few rounds of the laptop saga I eventually caved from my very reasonable, "I know you're stressed with school, exams and writing your personal statement and I know you're not specifically peed off with me but I am one of the few safe people you can offload to"  I eventually cracked and said " Lucy, we will get you a new sodding laptop" She exploded and told me to not to take that tone with her and flounced off, swearing at me as she left.


Some days it's hard to not feel nostalgic for my last baby, who was and is still so loved,  the snuggly toddler who loved me so much and the small girl who made me certificates saying I was the best Mummy in the world and all the little love letters she sent.


And the days where I was always right and didn't have to justify my choices every single day.

Ageing

Yesterday I received a letter inviting me for breast screening. Jings, crivens and help my boab (the husband and I have given up swearing, it's going quite well but I did slip when I had my legs waxed)  Had I  turned 50 but was too busy to notice?. Apparently not, they are extending the screening age to 47. I'm pleased about that, I expect the excitement of being able to go on Saga holidays and breast screening would have been way too much for me in the same year.

Tomorrow

I will be 48, I can hardly believe it! It's uplifting to still be sane ish and have my body still doing what I request of it and slightly depressing to be looking older and more tired.
Bah! I am alive


I have had a weird month with some fab highlights, spending time with great new friends and time with my beloved Lou, who has been my friend for decades.


 Sad stuff with my mum's decline.


 Good stuff because I have seen my beautiful son and scary stuff when I hear of his exploits.


Weird stuff with my stepson, it's quite frankly all batshit crazy over there, always.


Good and bad stuff with work,  very sad stuff with a death. Properly shaken me up stuff.


Odd stuff as my youngest daughter has been away for 3 weeks, most peculiar to be without her.


Good stuff as my older daughter is flying back from Germany to spend my birthday with me.


Exciting stuff with a big change in work/life balance. Cryptic non?


Feeling guilty for being a bad friend stuff as wanting to text Note Bene to tell him Glasgow City Council were flying the Palestinian flag and guilt as I don't have his number any more.


Missing Libs stuff, been far too long, missus, we need to see you and the mister.


I shall be back soon, I have a blog and I miss writing in it. I am going to try and blog more often, I miss you.

Things I would really like to say

To the guests who are 1 week in of a 2 week stay in our villa.
Please go home now, it will save me a fortune. In 1 week, you have called our property management agents out 4 times. We have bought an extra 6 pillows for your comfort, replaced the hob and have been out twice to repair the air con units you have burnt out as you have left every feckin unit on for every feckin hour of the day. We wouldn't mind but each time the agent or the repair man has shown up, you are outside with the air con on indoors. I am dreading my electricity bill. Feck off home, it has cost me more to have you there than you gave me in the first place.




To my youngest child
We live in Market Harborough, not Alaska, it's not that bad. Also, if you want a £900 plane ticket bought so you can spend 3 weeks in America this summer, plus your spending money, I won't have enough to also buy you a motor bike so you can get the hell out of Dodge  (sorry Market Harborough) and also the maintenance money your dad gives me for you is not meant to be spend penny for penny on your clothes and entertainment. It also has to cover the roof over your head, food, travel, toiletries, the council tax, the gas bill, the electric bill, phone, broadband, water and all of life's other luxuries. Quit your whining.




To my next door but one neighbours
There are 2 reason that most people are unfamiliar with the whole of Dolly Parton's back catalogue, one is taste and the other? we call them ears. Mine work okay, from two doors down with the windows closed, I work from home, when chatting to a consultant neurosurgeon on the phone, when I am trying to use my two bob words and impress him, the full pelt Dolly isn't helping my "take me seriously so I can earn enough to pay for villa guests and children's plane fares, never mind a Mulberry handbag"




My beloved husband's ex partner
Your behaviour is quite unbelievable and hugely unacceptable. The person who will be most hurt by it is your son. Wise the fuck up, he won't be 8 forever, he will soon know that you are way out of line.




My beloved husband's ex partners new partner
You are beneath contempt. You should also, wise the fuck up, because again, he won't be 8 forever. One day he might have to choose your care home and I hope he chooses one that has the same ridiculous rules for you as you have for him. Think on.


Rantie auntie wine fulled rant now over

mumsnet, I love thee, let me count the cost

I have spoken before of my deep love of mumsnet. I am still enamoured. I suspect the shine is going off it for mr auntiegwen aka mr adventures, although I don't think he can really claim to be mr adventures any more such is the pitiful amount of blogging ie none of late.


I am an ad man's dream. I am hugely suggestible. So if someone takes the time and trouble to log on and spout about how good something is, I am going to believe them.


To date I have bought on a mumsnet recommendation,


Sainsbury's luxury leggings  - best quality, last for ages, wash well
Branch 309 - ex display shoes form office and schuh -  we have bought 5 pairs from here, very good for cheap UGG boots, EBD got a fab £29 pair and I even persuaded my dad into the UGG slippers, which he loves
Lanacane ani chaffe gel - stop sniggering, it's apparently the same formula that Smashbox use in their make up primer and it is 1/3 of the price
Longchamp - La Pliage large shopper, fab bag and will take loads of work files plus all the assorted staff I need all day every day to survive
Tresseme 7 day keratin shampoo & conditioner - I have very soft and straight hair now


Yesterday I succumbed to Alpha H skin care - apparently it's brilliant for cleaning out your pores. I shall report back and let you all know. don't worry not with before and after pictures, I'm not that unkind.
I'm sure it's just displacement as I haven't bought the handbag despite the 30% off in the sale.


Today I am trying desperately not to buy a Morphy Richards 9 in 1 steam cleaner - they are the dog's apparently. I feel that getting excited about household appliances rather put me in the Per Una category.


Today I am going to stick to Am I being unreasonable, it's cheaper than chat & style & beauty. Say hi to wifeandmotherandlotsofother if you see me.

I heart MH

Have I mentioned how much I love living in Market Harborough this month? No? how remiss of me.

We have no cinema here, we were supposed to get one but there has been a community group and a business joint initiative thingy that has gone bodge and we aren't getting one. That is the short version.


Please don't feel sorry for us, no siree, we have a film club. Oh yes, Market Harborough has everything you could possible want. Our lovely film club meets in the local theatre, we have a big screen, tippy up seats and a bar. Take that Odeon.


We went on Friday and saw The Monuments Men. We had a drink in the bar, a lovely chat, a film we enjoyed and it was every bit as good as the cinema. All for a fiver each.


Fabulous.


And the icing on the cake...


We were the youngest there by a good decade.


I love Market Harborough.

Welcome to the house of vom

We have a black cross on our front door. I am ringing my bell and crying out "unclean, unclean" We are a house of lurgy.  My stepson The Boy Wonder spent the weekend vomiting and sleeping, not to be outdone my husband has spent today vomiting and sleeping, He scared the beejeezus out of me as he recounted how he pulled into a lay by on the way home to barf and woke up 20 minutes later with the engine running and the handbrake off.


He's not even got life insurance.


My Eldest Beautiful Daughter and I were on Skype tonight and I was telling our tales of woe and sickness and she asked if I was more sympathetic to illness now, she loves to recount the phrases that were trotted out when she was pleading for a day off school. Before I was a teacher, I spent 15 years as a nurse, I probably wasn't sympathetic to pleas of illness.  Sympathy clearly was a shift time only concept. The ones she favours are


"Have you a limb hinging off? No , well get that uniform on"
"You're sick are you? Let me take you to the hospital, I work there, I'll show you what a sick person looks like"
"Put a plaster on it, it'll be fine. Stop your crying"


Then I became a teacher and still had no truck with school avoiding issues. Apparently EBD's upbringing has made her the strict teacher she is now.


And she is a VERY strict teacher.

A Handbag

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a lady in the middle years of her life, must be in want of a good handbag.


Or is that just me?


Maybe it's because you're never too fat for a handbag? It wouldn't matter which designer I chose or how much money I spent, I'm still going to look like a pig in a frock in most of them. Not even once has a handbag made me look chubby. And I am very old and have had a lot of handbags.




I am looking for the holy grail of handbags, I want something that will be big enough to carry all my stuff. I have a lot of stuff, I know from past experience if I leave any of the stuff out, I will need it and be peeved with myself all day for leaving it at home. I want it to look smart and business like ( because clearly I need all the help I can get with that one) I want it to say "Look here, you young things, I am a serious lady with a serious handbag, I may be getting old but with that I am gaining gravitas. And I have a lovely handbag"


 I have spent a fair bit of time on my handbag quest. I have even joined a handbag forum ( courtesy of mumsnet, of course, I can't do anything without mumsnet approval)  I have decided upon the handbag for me.


It is a lovely handbag.


It is a thing of beauty.


It is expensive.


Click HERE to see my object of my covety covetousness.


Oh I can do all the nice lady things justification maths, cost per wear blah blah blah, I know I will use it , I know it is good quality. I know I could sell it if I got bored and still get some money back.  But can I really spend that kind of money on a bag?


DISCLAIMER - if the nice PR people at Mulberry wish to send me a free handbag to play with, I will blog the live long day about them, I will stop people in the street and force them to admire the Bay, truly I will, there will not be anyone who knows, reads or has contact with me that will not hear the joys of Mulberry. Promotion has no impetus like a middle aged auntie with a free handbag.


I just cannot bring myself to hand my card over, it seems obscene just to pay the money. I really, really want this bag. My lovely husband has said he'd buy it for me  but I can't let him. I could take the money out of my wee nice lady things savings account but it seems like I haven't earned it, despite the fact that any money going into the account has been earned by me.


So I have come up with a cunning plan, in this plan I get to buy the handbag but I have to earn the handbag. I can't do any more hours at work so I have to give up something and then save the money for the bag. Once a Catholic, always a Catholic.


So, suggestions welcomed for what I can do that will leave me a spare £1000 ish in my account but won't get me arrested or divorced.


PS - I am completely aware of this being a #firstworldproblem, I am completely aware that people are starving and homeless and really struggling and I have the luxury of even thinking of buying a handbag. I know, I know... mea culpa

Decorexia

 I have always had a fairly minimal house, perhaps because my family home  is so full you can only move  sideways in it and they think a surface without stuff and a wall without pictures is a complete waste of space. If you want to see what the Palace of Versailles would look like in a very ordinary Glasgow maisonette (or 4 in a block if you're one of us chosen people), you want to visit my mum & dad.
However in my middle years...
I find myself buying heart shaped things, all the feckin time, there can't be a room in my house without a heart shaped thing in it. To expand this hobby I have taken to buying heart shaped things for the villa, so not only am I imposing my lack of imagination on my nearest and dearest, I have now inflicted it on the good paying public who rent from me. Yesterday I spectacularly bought heart shaped things, in total, 3 pictures with hearts on, 2 cushions with hearts on, 1 metal hanging heart made with tiny bells ( I know), and no less than 8 hanging wicker hearts. I also bought bunting ala Kirsty Allsop but that's  a whole other story.


I have taken the buying of small bowls to an extreme art form also. We have a surfeit of small bowls, some are also heart shaped but it's not compulsory. I like bowls, I am particularly attracted to wee bowls. When you have crisps or nuts or snacky thinks it's so much nicer to have them from an attractive bowl.


Candles are also a particular passion, at present in my lounge, I have 25, some arranged in groups, some in bowls (you see, there is another purpose for a wee bowl) we have candles everywhere, inside and out. My husband who monitors our heating on a fancy graph, some Tado thingy that self regulates our heating so you don't have a timer any more (don't mock, Christ he needs something to occupy his mind, living with me) he can tell from his fancy graph when I have lit candles as the temperature increases. I am less impressed with the new fancy thing, I don't have the control thingy, he has one on his phone, if I get cold I have to light candles and put a cardie on or ring and ask him to switch the heating on. Still I have stuff and he has gadgets.


My house is filling up pretty quickly and my ever patient husband has learned not to ask what things are for, he just admires the heart shapes/wee bowls & candles and checks he is still a bloke, living in such a full house.


I am off to the beautiful house for a week, I am taking my husband, my stepson, my parents and several heart shaped things, some bowls and more candles with me. I will buy gin from the duty free and imbibe hourly from 11 to 11 as the combination of my mother telling me the same thing over and over and the boy wonder showing me how he jumps into the pool over and over will most certainly require a more relaxed (aka drunk) auntie to cope!!!


My starter for 10 was yesterday when I was chatting to my mum on the phone, she arrives tonight and I had said how nice it would be to see her. She replied that she was also looking forward to seeing me and then added "and your husband" As I am a very polite auntie, I said " Andrew is looking forward to seeing you too" She closed the conversation with, "Well, I don't know about that but I am looking forward to seeing your husband"


See you in June

Normal service will resume shortly...

My blog has gone a bit bodge, that's a technical term obviously as you all know how fan dabby dozey I am with technology. I thought I'd lost a bit of it as there was a lot of white screen but if you go away down far enough some other stuff is there, I don't know how to fix it, clearly, so I shall cross my fingers, keep writing stuff and hope it repairs itself.


I am having a bit of a run of broken/lost/problematic things at the moment. Our hot water tank appears to be leaking, we found this out when a patch of water appeared on the ceiling of the room below. The auntiegwen approach is to wrap the leaky bit in flannels and keep drying them out however I am now married and married to the kind of person who likes, nay needs to fix things, yes dear readers I married an engineer, he has a full complement of tools and fixery things but the water tank is winning at the moment. There has been lots of draining of things and turning water off and turning it back on, we still leak and every time I was my hands the water comes out with a ferocity and viciousness previously only seen in a hormonal and exam stressed BBD. I get soaked every time. I am tired of this game now.


I have lost my fitbit which made me sad, tis a sort of posh pedometer and was a Christmas gift.


Work has needed lots of patience and I don't have that much spare as general life is taking most of mine.


But huzzah, tis Friday and I have a very nice bottle of wine in the fridge for tonight, we have pizza and gogglebox (which I love, love, love).


Not too shabby, have a good weekend everyone