'TIS THE SEASON TO BE JOLLY...

 

...Or at least very, very silly.

 

 

 

 

 

Soooo, a little later than usual in the gay old month of December, the Family W set off to purchase the Christmas Tree. It has become a tradition that we always go to the same Garden Centre, at around the same time of the month (although we failed on that count this year) and we always choose the same type of tree - a Nordmann fir.

SIMPLE PLEASURES ...

Couldn't decide what to post about this time.  It was a toss-up between 'Keep the Noise Down' -
which I feared may be misconstrued as a complaint about November 5th Fireworks and I didn't want no misconstruing on my blog -
Or my 'Simple Pleasures' idea. 

Then I read my pal-who-lives-in-South-Africa's blog post over at Weezafish and, not only does she talk about (among other things) Simple Pleasures - she actually uses the phrase. 
A sign!  A sign! 

(We have a bit of link, WF and I.  Well I like to think so anyway.  One time, during her last pregnancy, I had a dream about her trying on about a thousand different dresses and being indecisive about them all.  Turns out that is exactly what had happened in real life - she had started labour and needed something to travel to hospital in and couldn't find an outfit she was happy with!  And I hadn't known anything about it at all! Cosmic!) (Is it just me who thinks these kind of tales are interesting? )

Anyway...

Simple Pleasures.

AND THEY SAY VARIETY IS DEAD...

As far as entertainment goes I guess it is unorthodox.  But, in these cash-strapped times, at least a local hotel is making an effort.

 

As a strapline I can't imagine it will have the same sort of impact that 'Garbo Talks' did in the 30s ... but they are having a go - and that, as I so often tell my children, is the main thing.

BOOK OF BEDTIME STORIES ...

...Or, Dreams Can Come True (aaaaah)

Way, way back in November last year I entered a Bedtime Story writing competition.  Then I do believe it was January of this year when I discovered I'd made it to the short list, and February when I darn near popped with excitement when I heard I was one of the 10 winners.

There followed an illuminating correspondence with my very talented editor, Kate Davies, and later I was sent the roughs of the illustrations that would accompany my text.  It was all the Kates!  Me, my editor and then Kate Leiper, the illustrator.  (Please check out Kate L's website to see some of her incredible artwork).



Anyhoo, it all died down on the action front, until this plopped into my Inbox.

I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW ...

...Or Can I?

It's been almost exactly nearly a whole month since I last posted, so you might be forgiven for thinking I may have a story to tell.

Not so, dear reader.  I've been busy with My New Job (in a pottery painting place - which is awesome) and decorating our Bedroom (which now has a new, vaulted (I think that's the word) ceiling - also awesome).  *Wooooah Bracket Attack*

But what I did find - as I was pootling through my very old photos on my very old phone was this ...

HOLIDAYS CAN BE THE GLUE THAT HOLDS A FAMILY TOGETHER ...

... But what's holding the pages in my book?

We've just got back from a week in Sunny Portugal and, really, my head is still there. 

I know for sure my body isn't, however.  It's been busy doing a hundredweight of washing a day and refusing to fit into most of my clothes since it got back. 


But back to Portugal.  Man it was HOT! 
One day the temperature in our Hire Car read 46 actual degrees - although it did 'cool down' to a frosty 42 degrees by the time we'd driven for about 20 minutes. The English tabloids would have gleefully emblazoned 'Phew! What a scorcher!' on the front pages every day. 
And maybe the Portuguese ones did too - I can't read Portuguese so I wouldn't know.

Anyway, I believe I have established that it was hot.  Now here's a thing -

PASTA IMPERFECT ...

... Or, Why am I not Rich Enough to have a Cook?

Sometimes I am just not in the mood to cook.  At all.

Sometimes I can't even think of what to feed everybody let alone organise providing it. 
Sometimes I am just so darned tired or fed up or lazy that even uttering the words "I don't want to cook" feels like way too much of an effort.

A couple of nights ago I was definitely in a Not Up For Cooking Anything Much mood.  Quick and Easy was the order of the evening. 
I would rustle up some Macaroni Cheese (or Macaroni and Cheese as our American friends call it) to fill the family's hungry tums.


And, because I hadn't given up the fight completely, I would be bunging in some Bits of Ham. 
Stand back Heston Blumenthal.

Coke™ Is It...

Coke™ may well be 'It' ...  But what, pray tell, is this?

 

I don't get this.  What am I supposed to do here?  Helen or Simon who?
And why is my bottle of pop sending me messages anyway?  Surely this should be the preserve of the Desert-Islandly-Stranded? 

PRINCE GEORGE OF CAMBRIDGE*

*This Post is not about Prince George.

Not the Prince George

Prince George is largely irrelevant.


Only to this story!  Heck people, Prince G is not irrelevant!  Nothing shakes your world like the arrival of your First Born, Prince of the Realm or not.

This post is about a George - Saint George.

Or, actually - not.

But it is about my world being shaken, so you may want to take a moment to prepare.

Deep breath and ... ready?

.....????? .....

 

 

Now, either Witch has grown a beard ....

 

 

.... or she's been wrassling with the sheepskin rug again.

 

 

Yooooooou decide ....

.... because she's maintaining a dignified silence.

Did I just say 'dignified'?!

A ROOM OF ONE'S OWN ...

...Or, If you've read V.Woolf's book you may find this confusing

Confession : I am the kind of person who sees a photo in the paper and, rather than actually read the article, makes up the story to go with it.
I just can't help myself.  I'm not dangerous though - I don't then pass on as fact the story I have just invented.  And if something really catches my eye I do read the whole article (or at least until the words get too long) so I am not a total heathen.

Perhaps it's a creative exercise (or urge) that I can't control.  I used to love it at primary school when we were shown a photograph of some gnarly feet, or played a piece of classical music and told to write what it suggests to us. 

SCHOOL SPORTS DAYS ...

...Or, It's not whether you Win or Lose but how you Play the Game.  But it's nice to get recognition when you do win :o)

Where do we stand these days on competition?  Is it still a bad word?
Me, I've always enjoyed it.  Not that I'm one of the world's Shiny People who always seem to win everything ... although if I could get paid for Enjoying Pictionary and Being Quite Good at Quizzes that would certainly solve a few cash-flow problems right now.  (Yes Dog, I am talking about the enormous drain on the family coffers you are proving to be with your expensive drug habit.  But that's another story.  Aaah, bless her).

Any excuse to put a poochy pic up.  Aint she adorabubble?

MY DIET STARTS TODAY!

Or ... There's Always Tomorrow...

Very early start this morning.

Had to take Witch (the 'Do Not Break The' Dog) to her specialist vets which is an hour and a half's drive away and needed to a) get up earlier than I did, b) get kids' lunches ready, and c) get No.3 child delivered to dear friend who would forward my Precious Parcel to school at the designated time.

So - no time to eat. 
(Also I wanted to show solidarity with Witchy who was on a starvation diet. Bless.)

The night before as I sat in bed - Kindle switched on and braced for being unceremoniously dropped as I inevitably fell asleep almost instantaneously - I pledged that, starting today, I would re-embrace my Healthy Eating Plan. 

OVERHEARD ...

... The latest instalment in a totally haphazard and unreliable series of Comments that found their way into my ears*.

*And frankly anything finding its way into my ears at the moment deserves some sort of recognition.  Totally blocked they are.  I know!  Well, not totally, it sounds like a jet is burning its engines somewhere inside my head all the time.  But, as ever, I digress...back to the topic in hand.

Overheard

As some of you may know, I have three children between the ages of 10 and almost 15  -  and it's fair to say that much of the late afternoon/early evening is taken up with homework of one sort or another.  There is, as may be obvious, only one of me; so to say I am not always 100% focused on any given child's homework would not be an untruth.  Sometimes (99% of the time at a generous estimate) I give them The Gift of Finding Out How to Work Independently.  I don't think Social Services needs to be brought in just yet - I am quite a sensitive person and can spot the signs when a young 'un needs some help.  One of the biggest giveaways is them bursting into tears,hurling a pencil in frustration and exploding in a strangled voice "I just can't do this!"

A What..? An AWARD, you say..?

So well hello and a great big THANK YOU to Weezafish – Blogger Extraordinaire and Bestower of Interesting Blog award  upon .... me! 

(I have to admit here that we have been friends for years - since before even the Wild-Word-interWeb probably - so there may have been an element of bias on her part...)

BUT, no ... it is important to accept a compliment graciously and in the spirit in which it was given - and so, again I say THANK YOU!  (That’s shouting really, isn’t it? Ah well, I’m excited).
I am jolly chuffed and it gave me a real fillip, I can tell you.

MY MIND IS A BLANK ...

...Or, ................?

Do you know what?  I can't think of anything to say. 

Not just 'I can't think of anything to blog about,' but I have been struggling with random and occasional words for a few days now. 

Today, for example, I was talking to the dog and I said,

 

'We need to wipe your feet because...'

 

and then words failed me. 

 

We looked at each other, the dog and I, and a moment of mutual understanding passed between us.  She realised that I had been attempting to express that -unwiped - her fluffy,wet dog feet would poddle rain all through the house.  And I realised that she, of course, was wondering where her next piece of cheese was coming from.

INFAMOUS...AND DERREN BROWN...

Ahoy!  Not sure why I'm channeling Sailor Speak there, but it's a nice sunny day and that kind of larky, jolly greeting seems somehow appropriate.

I can't help thinking he may be laughing at me

Soooooo, what's been happening, I hear you ask?  Well, I am able to tell you, adored reader, that I did just over a week ago see one of my actual Heroes in actual Real Life. 

Oh yes. I am still basking in the afterglow of the wonderfulness that was seeing...

 

Mr Derren Brown

 

 

IN  THE  FLESH!

 

Actually I can no longer use that phrase with the abandon I did on the days leading up to my visit to The Theatre to watch Mr B.  It seems I greatly disturbed Daughter Aged 10 with my constant reference to 'the flesh'.

 

ON DISCOVERING THE DISHWASHER IS BROKEN...

...Or, What a load of Bologs

Sooooooo, it was Sunday morning and the only day of the week when we get a lie-in. 
Feeling rested and refreshed, Mr W got up and offered to make everyone a cooked breakfast.  I took the opportunity to have a lovely bath.

I love the smell of a lovely bath.  Can't have too many products in the bath water because I have the Skin of  a Princess; but the odd splash of a baby product, coupled with the smell of what I can only assume is chlorine, and my nostrils are happy.

There are two smells finer than that of a lovely bath.  One is the smell of a cooked breakfast, and the other is the smell of a cooked breakfast that someone else has cooked.

EASTER STUFF ...

...Or, The Lasting Last Supper

Daughter Aged 10's school has a homework system called Learning Logs where they are encouraged to produce some work at home.  Not actually called homework anymore, as that apparently sounds negative.  Frankly, I think getting used to negative words is no bad thing - otherwise the little darlings won't know what's hit them when phrases like 'final demand', 'car insurance' and 'dusting' are bandied at them.  But what, as I often ask, do I know?

Anyway, it's quite funky as they can let their imaginations run riot.  Our girl is a fan of the PowerPoint presentation.  I, on the other hand, am gagging for the day she presents her learning log using the medium of Interpretive Dance.

AN EASTER CONFESSION...

...Or, My Name's Kate and I Have a Secret Stash of Cadbury's Creme Eggs

There.  It's out there.  I have shared.  I've been struggling with the guilt for toooo long and now I thank you for listening :-)


I have a Secret Stash of Cadbury's Creme eggs and I don't know how it happened (I do).

I blame Tesco; they were doing them on special offer - BOGOF* or something similar (but perhaps less aggressive sounding).  It may have even been Better Than Half Price, or Buy One Get One Half Price.   Or, just possibly, Buy One Get One Full Price...

OVERHEARD...

...Or...Weirdest Game of Pooh-Sticks
My walk home from town involves a rather lovely stroll over a common.  A river runs through it, and that river is traversed by two bridges.  (Gosh, I could write for Lonely Planet).

There are ducks, and swans, and moorhens, and even the occasional rat (which is fun) but - getting to the point (and I assure you I do have one) ...
 

WORLD BOOK DAY ...

... Or, Really?  Again already?

World Book Day - it's a laugh, innit? 

I wonder, actually, if this is - as the name would suggest - a Global Thing?  Are there parents World - Wide stressing themselves sweaty wondering how on earth they are going to fashion a Book Character Costume for their Beloved Offspring?

I know many people hate and despise World Book Day.  I was listening to one woman complaining about it yesterday morning in the supermarket - but she was also banging on about her 'fat feet' and 'this awful weather', so maybe she was just having an off-day.
I actually quite like Book Day, I love seeing the kiddies racing around the playground in their costumes - and it does seem to get them talking about books...for a bit, at least.

MY STORY IS GOING TO BE PUBLISHED...!

...Or, MY STORY IS GOING TO BE PUBLISHED...!!!!!

Ok, so this isn't much of a blog-post, more of a I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS HAS HAPPENED-post.

And I really don't have much to say as I am still Totally Reeling but, back in November, I entered the Mumsnet/Walker Books Bedtime Story Competition with my story, 'Celeste Who Sang to the Stars'.

UN-PACKED LUNCHES . . .

...Or, Oh Sweet Lord that's Gross...

This wasn't gross.  This was lovely.
Beautifully modelled by my pal, the equally lovely Mrs B

Aaaah, the end of another Half Term Holiday (although I do believe they are no longer called that - but I'm bejiggered if I can keep up with the new term numbers) and, having spent a week rising at my comparative leisure and remaining pyjama-clad until after nine o'clock, I found myself assuming my regular position at the kitchen counter prepping the kiddies' lunches.

It was all going rather smoothly, until I asked Child No.2 to find his water bottle.

He could not.

But he did find ... this ...

RICHARD III REMAINS IN LEICESTER CAR PARK...

Mr King Richard III

...I'm always forgetting where I parked the car too!* 

*It's okay - I know that's really lame.


Frankly I'm amazed more isn't being made of it.

One of our English Kings - the last of the Plantagenets no less (which, incidentally is one of my favourite words.  Right up there with 'mantlepiece') - has been languishing in a Leicester car park for years.

For 'tis true.  The bones were DNA tested and have 'proved beyond reasonable doubt' to be those of King Richard III.

Ooooh.

THINGS I LOVE ABOUT ...

... My Kids

Could it be the fast-approaching St Valentine's Day that has got me talking about love?  It could.  But not necessarily.

Here is the first installment in a New Series of  'Things I Love' ..er.. things.

This time on the subject of my kids.

Oh yes, here I go a'sharing...

SNOW IS FALLING...ALL AROUND US...CHILDREN PLAYING...HAVING FUN...

Or...as in the case of Child No.3 - Smashing their Hands in Iron Gates and Spending the Rest of the Day with a Cold Compress and a Calpol Drip 

It is snowing.

Quite a lot.

We had some snowfall on Monday too.  Enough to excite The Dog beyond all reason.  She was bouncing around in the couple of inches of snow like a spring lamb - then she'd bundle in the house and bounce around some more, stopping every once in a while to fix me with her 'have you not seen what is out there?! Bounce woman!!' look.

There was sufficient white stuff around to warrant leaving the car behind and walking No.3 to school.  It's quite a stretch (half an hour each way at a good pace) but I feel sooo virtuous when I get home.
Right up until I stuff my silly face with Dairy Milk.

It's for energy, you understand

THE WRONG TROUSERS ...

...And Nothing at all to do with Wallace and Gromit

I spent the whole day today wearing a pair of trousers that were quite different to the ones I thought  I had on.

I was quite unsettled when I realised.

I will have an early night and hope to put the whole sorry episode behind me.