What a week!

Finally it arrived, the end of term and the start of the madness we call Christmas.
I've had a pretty rough couple of weeks and finally feel like I'm out of the fog of the virus and the real me is back! Sorry about that for those that are affected....
So any normal person would still be in bed this early on a Saturday morning, not on their second cup of tea and about to tuck in to a bacon sandwich, yes, the clue was in the "any normal person".

People think it's easy working in a school and getting all the school holidays off, well let me assure you, it isn't. For a start, my body is so used to waking up at 6am every day, as soon as the holidays arrive you think I'm laying in bed all morning, oh no, I'm up and awake by at least 7am! Then just as my body gets used to the fact that it can sleep a little longer than normal, I'll have to start setting the alarm clock and be back to a 6am start, two weeks of confusion for poor little me.

Then there has been the trauma of the last week in school. I've had to endure endless viewings of Madagascar and the first ninety minutes of films that I may never get to see the end of. How will I cope not knowing what happens to John Cusack in the film 2012? What about the girl that got kidnapped in Taken? Worst of all, did the gorgeous Ewan McGregor escape the evil clutches of Sean Bean in The Island?
Combine all of this with the copious cookies, pringles, doritos and chocolate cake that I've eaten and I'm sure you're sitting there thinking how glad you are that you work where you do and you will no longer envy those of us that are working in education.

All joking aside and as I'm sure those of you that know me are only too aware, I really do love my job and I feel so lucky that I was given the chance to have a go at it. I work with some brilliant students and secretly enjoy spoiling and indulging them with all the little goodies like biccies and crisps, for some of them it's the only time they get any treats. But I guess the best bit of all was yesterday when they all took the time to say thank you and wished me a Merry Christmas, forget Mastercard, that was priceless.

Free time

Once again Sunday morning is here and the toll of the bell signifying the end of another weekend. I love my job and really wouldn't want to do anything else, well apart from early retirement maybe, but why do the weekends have to go so quickly and the weekdays considerably slower?
Of course this week wasn't too bad, I was only in for two days and then off sick for three, believe me when I say I'd rather have been in work.

So, Saturday morning arrived and although I was still a little weary from all the coughing, I felt well enough to venture out. What oh what should I do with this freedom I had? No football training as Master Grumpy was still coughing like someone that's been smoking forty woodbine a day for the last twenty years, so the day was mine!
Obviously we all know where I ended up, Sainsburys. I won't go in to the joys of trying to find a parking space, or getting the right trolley, you know, one without the wheel that whizzes around like a demented spinning top as you push it. I'll even skip over the old people that I thought were banned from shopping on weekends, why do they still do that? Let's face it, when you no longer have to go to work and can sit around all day every day, why would you wait til the weekend to do your grocery shopping? There should be a law against them being out at weekends, I'll gladly let them have any day of the week they want, I'll stay away, besides don't they all get their food delivered from that nice Wiltshire man?

I digress. Shopping done, I made it back home and what do you think I did with the rest of my freedom? Collapsed in front of the computer and spent most of the day laughing at funny film clips, precocious children and some favourite music that I'd forgotten existed. Along with my mobile phone, I sometimes wonder how I coped pre computer, I know the older more cynical readers out there will be huffing and puffing about how I should get out more, not a good example to my children, blah blah blah. But guess what? I don't care. I laughed so hard I almost choked from coughing, I had a little tear at one point remembering a song that meant a lot to me a long time ago and through the wonders of the web was able to share them with some of my nearest and dearest.

So it wasn't the most exciting Saturday on record, although I did pop out later in the afternoon and almost ended up tagged on to the end of the EDL march in town, but it was a lovely, relaxing day and sometimes the best times are when you do nothing of any great use at all.

Have a relaxing Sunday and if you feel like doing bugger all, then do it!

Counting Down

Well here I am again, I think. My eyes are asking what the hell I'm doing up and typing at 6.45am on a Saturday morning, well my little brown friends, had you stayed closed and allowed me more sleep, we wouldn't be in this situation, would we?

It's been a rather interesting year for me and I have found myself wanting to blog on many occasions but have always changed my mind at the last minute. We all know how people like to live their personal lives out on Facebook and yes, at times I may have been guilty of that, but I really didn't want to start pouring my heart out on here.

So, before I start burbling about something totally different to what I had intended, I want to talk about the C word. Happily of course I mean Christmas and all the joys that come with it. Here we are, just 2 weeks away from the big day and how prepared am I? Let's say, not very. I know it'll all get done, the cards, the pressies, the food shopping and most importantly, getting the booze in, but right now I don't really feel in the mood.
I'm not a bah humbug type person, in fact I'm quite the opposite! I saw something on the television about how lucky children are these days, what they expect to get and the fact that they usually get what they want and far too much on top of that. Some miserable old git was giving some youngsters presents to share, presents that represented what they would have got maybe 30 or more years ago.... a tangerine and a yo yo. Well guess what misery guts? Times move on and thank goodness for that! I'm not saying my Christmas memories as a child are bad ones, far from it. I remember getting fruit in my sock at the end of the bed... bloody uncomfortable when you put your foot in it... but I also remember getting a dolls house, tiny tears, Penny puppy walker, Spirotot and one year my favourite ever present, a Hornby train set!
Now our parents weren't loaded with money, in fact quite the opposite, but I bet in order for them to buy all 4 of us the presents they knew we so desired, they had to save like mad and I'm sure the looks on our faces made it all worthwhile. For me it's exactly the same, I know that now my boys are bigger it's less about toys but it's still worth all the depriving yourself of the odd treat just to give them the very things that make them happy.

Oh yeah, while I'm on a roll, Christmas isn't just for kids either so please don't say it is! I love Christmas, hoping for that special present that I haven't even talked about or hinted at, wondering if anyone's mind reading skills have been working and I get a little something that I fancy. I know, highly unlikely but I can dream as I open another set of smellies or wash bag from the same person every year.... oh my goodness, do I smell?

I guess the point I'm trying to make on this dark and dreary morning is, let's just enjoy ourselves. let's all do what we want to do, not be told by others how we should be enjoying ourselves, how we should be spending our money and in fact, even if you don't want to be happy, then bloody well don't be. It's your day too!

Sam's birthday

I decided to Blog today in honour of Master Musical's 18th birthday. Just like that morning 18 years ago, I was wide awake at 6am this morning but in a lot less pain! I'm sure the re-telling of this story will make Sam smile, he's heard it so many times.... 

I remember that I actually went in to labour with Sam on the Sunday evening as he was born on a very hot and sunny Monday. I had been round at the outlaws with Mr Grumpy for Sunday tea, it was a law that we had to abide by in those days. We sat watching an old episode of Morecambe and Wise when I felt decidedly uncomfortable, I wasn't sure at first if it was the tuna sandwiches and tinned fruit or whether in fact the big moment had finally arrived.

Mr Grumpy decided that to be on the safe side, we'd pop to to the local spar to get some nappies before heading home. By 10pm I was in agony and was sure the baby was going to arrive at any second, so after a quick call to the hospital, we jumped, well, I waddled, in to the car and were off. Imagine my surprise and disbelief when the midwife had a quick poke around and announced I was 2cm dilated. For those of you not in the know, that's not what you want to hear when you're in agony and you know you need to hit 10cm's before the little sucker's gonna come out!

It was a very hot and very long night, that then progressed in to a very hot and very long morning. Sam decided that he actually quite liked it in my womb and was in no hurry to make his arrival in the world. The Doctor finally decided that some help was going to be needed and maybe extra pain relief for me, thank god and maybe a little suck down below.... he quickly explained that he meant a little suction machine to put on Sam's head to help him out, phew!

Finally at 13.07 on Monday 17th August 1992, Samuel Joseph Amos was born weighing in at 8lb 13.5oz, ouch, that really did split my splitter! 

I could go on about the grief I had over the next few days of him not eating, something he has since more than made up for, and about the drafting in of a 90 year old midwife who man handled my boobs to try and get him to feed. Apparently Doris had never failed to get a baby to latch on, ha ha, we beat her son! Anyway, I don't want to put you off your food for the rest of the day, say I'll just say,

Happy Birthday Sam, I love you and I'm very proud of you, I hope you have a brilliant birthday!

 

College...

I feel that writing has been a bit difficult lately, no, not broken fingers, just a funny mixed up head. I seem to have lots of thoughts running through my mind and I'm struggling to put them in to any kind of order. Well, I need to get sorted because last Friday I started back at college on the next level of my TA course. For those of you that lived through the last one with me, you'll remember how worried I was every week about writing up reports and stuff. I was in the zone back then and actually ended up producing something that I was really proud of, blimey, not sure what's going to happen this time!

Imagine my surprise then when one of my colleagues, that's been to university, told me of how worried they are about the whole thing, he's on the same course. He's been doing the job for some years now but has never taken any formal qualifications towards his actual job role. I told him that I was sure after having got a degree in English, a little course at college would be a doddle. So then the biggest surprise ever, it's not the written work he's worried about, it's when the course leader comes in to school and observes us working that he's bothered about.  

The scary thing about the job we do is not people from the outside watching us, not even our managers observing us, the scary thing is the kids we deal with on a daily basis. I don't really care too much about what other people think of what I'm doing, what I care about is making sure I'm doing the very best I can for those children that seem to get a rough deal everywhere else.

So bring on the observations and external visits but if anyone would like to write all my course work up for me I'm happy to pay!

Music V Age

I'm pretty sure that I've talked about music before but as my mind gets ever hazier and I get too lazy to look back over old blogs I'm just going to talk about it anyway!

For as long as I can remember I have been surrounded by music, granted, not always mine or in fact anyone's taste, but music nonetheless. One of my earliest musical memories was a song played at my paternal grandparents called "I see the moon" and the version they had was by The Stargazers on an old 78rpm. Anyone under the age of say, 30? may need to ask a grown up what a 78 is, just ask about LP's or vinyl. 

As I grew so did my record collection and Suzie would be proud to know that one of my earliest vinyl 45's was a Womble song, "Remember you're a Womble" I think. I then progressed on to The Osmonds and The Bay City Rollers, I know, some people will say you can't love both but I did. Live with it. There were a few of those Top of the Pops albums along the way, sung by nobody's, a bit like the equivalent of Now That's What I Call Music but not by the original artists. 

Skip forward a few years, missing out the parent enforced country and western and Showaddwaddy... saw them live... aahem, sorry minor slip there... and suddenly I was in the world of punk rock. Again, enforced by the youngest of my three brothers, it was played all the time and very loudly and with lots of shouting, swearing and angst. This was at a time when I was made to walk to school with said brother and his friends, all of whom were very scary yet very attractive to me. They had that look that said "I'm sticking two fingers up to you, what you gonna do about it?" But really, nice nice people.

So let's fast forward to now, my musical taste has seen the coming and going of Mods, Ska, Punk, Northern Soul, RnB (sorry) soft rock, and most recently heavy metal, hard rock and strangely Punk. I refuse to apologise for the stuff I've loved and still do, like Go West who I happen to be going to see with my lovely blonde friend D tomorrow night, thanks D! And then who'd believe that next week I'm going with Master Musical to watch a proper punk band who just happen to have a member of the band who was one of those very nice nice people from 100 years ago.

I shall reserve judgement til I hear them play, though I have no doubt I'll come home with a CD and a T shirt, The Black Marias that is not Go West, but never let it be said that you're too old for what music you like. It is now me that's sticking two fingers up to everyone, I'll go where I want, to see who I want and who's going to stop me??? Oooooh, is that Anarchy?

Old teenager

And so another week ends and thanks to the gift of bank holidays mingled in with half term, I really have lost track of which day of the week it is. I'm trying to make sure that I remember to get up early tomorrow to take Master Grumpy to football training, that's assuming he actually goes to bed and sleeps tonight!

I saw recently that some medical research has proven that teenagers have some hormone that is released at about the age of 14, that means they don't need to go to sleep quite so early and need to sleep longer in the mornings. Now I'm sure there will be some doubting Thomas's out there that will pah and piffle at this research but for once I actually agree. But now I'd like to see some research done in to 40 somethings, we need regular meal breaks, a good smattering of alcohol and always a decent nights sleep, because if we don't get it, we are hell on legs. I'm sure most of you will agree and I'm not just referring to myself, is it too much to ask that I can go to bed at say 10pm and have unbroken sleep until 8am? Well apparently it is, maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's my age but my bladder has decided that 4am is the time I need to get up. Should we be paying some researchers in Cambridge to prove this fact or is it enough that I do it every morning?

I also read that they're trialling this teenage thing in some school where the kids arrive later and stay later to see if they can get the best out of the kids. So I'm putting my name down for my workplace to say I can snack when I feel hungry, take an afternoon (or morning) nap when necessary and of course if it all gets too much I can have a nice large glass of wine to help ease my worries. Oh yes and all very close to a ladies room.  

The Party

I'm not sure if this will qualify as a blog but as it's me rambling then I suppose it should.

Tonight, the family and I have attended the 5th birthday party of my eldest niece, Little Miss Bossy Boots. I could have called her anything, gorgeous, adorable, beautiful, lovely, kind, the list goes on, but I actually feel that LMBB is actually the most appropriate. 

In attendance were the usual suspects, Nanny and Grandpapa B, Nanny Hatch, Uncle Mark, Uncle Pilchard and Aunty Elaine, as well as her own parents, brother, sister and my two boys. I do hope that none of the afore mentioned mind me using their real names.... I'll find out soon enough no doubt! Oh and I nearly forgot, Harvey, not sure how I forgot him, he made enough noise all evening!

It was one of those lovely family gatherings where we were all totally relaxed, the wine was flowing, freely, the kids were playing, happily and Harvey was barking, noisily. LMBB had loads of lovely pressies and of course in reflection of the way she has been raised was so appreciative of all she received. Even when she opened some dolls that she already had, her mum suggested that they could take them back and swap them for something different, her reply? "No, it's ok mummy, my little sister can have them when she's big enough" Humbling.

We had the most wonderful, home cooked meal, as always, followed by a bright, pink birthday cake, that'll be all the kids up all night, including Messrs Grumpy, courtesy of Nanny B. I can honestly say that as always I have come away feeling as fat as a pig, thanks folks.

The only thing missing from the evening? Uncle D and Auntie J who sadly couldn't make it due to work commitments and also the fact that they're going through a rather sad time at the moment. So tonight's blog is really just for them, not to say, look what you missed out on, but to hope that they feel they were still a part of the evening and to let them know that I kissed and hugged those little people just for them. We all hope to see you soon, you were missed.

Pooh

I wasn't too sure what to call today's blog, I hope the title hasn't offended anyone, actually I don't care if it has.

So this morning I awoke with a stranger in bed beside me, well, not a complete stranger, but it was somewhat of a surprise to open my eyes and see Winnie the Pooh staring at me. I wonder how many 40 something women can say that this morning?

It would appear that as Mr grumpy has been struggling with a stiff neck and shoulders of late, he had decided to take a hot water bottle to bed to try and ease his tension. Enter Winnie the Pooh. We've had this hot water bottle and cover for nearly 14 years now, he has been a very loyal and most helpful bear, I can now see why Christopher Robin liked him so much.

I remember as if it were yesterday the day that I bought him and I also remember how much Mr Grumpy moaned when I told him the price, "twleve pounds??" he exclaimed. Well old man, I think that he has been more than worth every penny I paid, hell, even the shop I bought him from is no longer standing!

The reason I remember buying him so clearly is down to the other happy member in our household, Master Grumpy. A beautiful baby born almost 14 years ago, loved being held and of course rocked to sleep but as soon as his body touched the mattress of his moses basket or cot he was wide awake and screaming. We tried everything to get him to stay asleep and once he was he was like the proverbial baby, but the only mattress that seemed not to put a 3000 volt charge of electricity through him was the one on our bed.

It was at some point of tears, endless sleepless nights and tantrums, that was just me, that someone suggested a hot water bottle. Apparently it would warm his bed nicely so that when he was laid next to it, he would think it was still one of us holding him, well, it worked for puppies so why not Master Grumpy? Well, it didn't. Yes, he grew out of screaming all night and wanting to sleep in my bed, after 4 years and what did I have apart from very large bags under my eyes? A lovely Winnie the Pooh hot water bottle.

Thanks Pooh bear for seeing me through, tummy aches, sore backs, sore necks and shoulders and endless cold nights. You're worth every penny to me. 

Pardon?

I haven't actually made it outside of the house today, so I feel that this fact may be reflected in tonight's blog. Honestly, I know for a fact it will as the only contact with the outside world I have had has been via the phone. Nothing very interesting in that you might think and ordinarily I would agree. That is unless I know you've had contact with some of the Grumpy In Laws.

I don't want to come across as mean or uncaring towards those with hearing difficulties, but oh my god how hard can a telephone conversation be? Well in the case of these people, very. Oh and before any of the Grumpies start moaning, yes, this applies to my mother too.

I'm not too demanding when it comes to the odd chat on the phone, maybe just that if I say something you can acknowledge you've heard by making an appropriate sound or giving a relevant answer. Or how about that when I say something and you do make a sound that implies you've heard or understood you don't then go on to ask me a question which relates directly to the very thing I've just been chatting to you about! Surely that's not much to ask? 

The only other thing that makes these hearing challenged people more frustrating is when they not only can't hear what you've said, they also seem unable to remember any of the things discussed recently, say in the last 2 weeks or so! So I find myself saying, "yes, you told me" at least half a dozen times, but know what? They can't hear that either so I still get the whole bloody story again!

Yes, yes, I know, I'll be old one day too, just don't phone me and I won't phone you.

Easter

And so it begins... I know that it's probably not officially Easter until tomorrow but I can't control the ramblings in my head, as you may have noticed.

So yet another religious celebration that so many of us take part in when we aren't actually religious at all, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, three weeks off work is very nice thank you very much! I'm not too fussed over chocolate either, please take note Mr Grumpy, would prefer Doritos. I can say this without fear of us not having to worry about what the Easter bunny may or may not bring as both the boys already have three eggs each. Most of this I would hazard a guess, will end up in Mr Grumpy and not the children. 

So what does Easter mean to you? To me it means the God Squad are out in the streets again, chocolate eggs and wrappers all over Master Musical and Master Grumpy's bedroom floors, the traffic on the road between here and the coast will be horrendous, even if it is pouring with rain. The queues in Sainsburys will be ridiculously long because all the loonies of this city don't think that they can manage with the shops being closed for one whole day. Suddenly there are very expensive turkeys for sale where normally it would be a chicken but the best bit will be fish and chips for tea on Friday. 

I'm not grumpy, I love spending time with my family and it's nice that we'll have this extra time to enjoy each others company, oh alright, by Sunday lunch we'll be screaming at each other over whose parents we're going to visit, shouting at chocolate, coma induced children about the mess they're making and are they going to get dressed today, but the most annoying thing about Easter for me will be yet again trying to work out.... What the hell is Urbi et Orbi???

Happy Easter!

Weddings

I hope that you'll please forgive me if I ever repeat myself, it's something I seem to do rather a lot of, getting forgetful in my old age.

Tonight I have the urge to discuss weddings and marriage, which I feel has been brought on by the upcoming nuptials of my fantastic friends Suzie Womble and her Lovely Welsh Ram. I hope that they won't mind me mentioning them and the fact that this is not the first time round for either of them, but I can confidently say they'll back me 100% when I say they are made for each other. Plus I'm not sure I agree with the whole til death us do part bit anyway, I think that was written when the average life expectancy was about 30, watch out Mr Grumpy!

As you know, Ms Womble is truly bonkers but truly lovely, she'd do anything for her friends, shout at your kids for you, close your curtains when you're on holiday, she'll even bring you wine when you most need it, but most of all she has got the most amazing ear and friendly shoulder and I can honestly say I trust her with my life. Oh enough sop, you get the idea.

So as Suzie and the Ram look set to spend the rest of their lives together I have had lots of thoughts racing through my head. The most disturbing of which must have been the dream I had last night. As we grow ever nearer to the big day I am having to think seriously about what I'm going to wear and if the very posh wedding invitations are anything to go by it's not a jeggings and boob tube type affair. However, in my dream last night I had found what I thought to be the perfect outfit and I had one of those situations where everyone was telling me how lovely I looked. I, however, was not quite so convinced , picture if you can or dare a cross between Lady ga ga and flashdance, not a pretty sight and as I mentioned before I couldn't ask anyone if I looked fat! So I think that over the next few weeks I shall be visiting various different retail emporiums, not Top Shop, I'm thinking more designer, more class, more style, more money. Maybe I could post a few of my findings on here for your opinions, honest feedback only please.

But just in case, I have checked with the Lovely Welsh Ram if ga ga is a go go and he said that he's all for it.... mmm, not convinced his family will feel the same way.

Pride or danger?

I'm not sure if I'm any good on commenting on the news and the terrible things that are going on around us in the world today. Of course I have my opinions and views but I don't know how confident I feel sharing them, I'm not my big brother, he always seems to get it right when he speaks of these things. (I'll add the link for his blog, it's really worth a read)

So please forgive me if I don't talk about the following in a political or so called correct way, but the news today of the suicide bombers on the Moscow Metro caused me to think of something that happened just before the school closed for half term. We were discussing the different moves in dance that could be used to represent war. Of course we had the usual responses from the boys of how you can use you hands, point your fingers and pretend you've got a gun. Valiantly the teacher carried on, trying to explain that there's more to war than the guns, there are the children that become embroiled in it, the women that will do anything for what they believe is expected of them. To emphasise her point, she showed some pictures of war, children with guns, women starving, men with explosives strapped to their bodies. 

The teacher asked the children what these images did to their emotions, very quickly a young lad from Afghanistan put his hand up and said, "Some people believe it's a good and honourable thing to die for their country" I was a little shocked that words like this could come from an 11 year old boys mouth, a sign we're told to look out for, potential threats to the safety and security of our society. Then, after having had the time to digest it, I realised that he's no more a threat to me and my country than my son is to his. Master Musical is hoping to join the Navy and is very proud to tell all, as we're equally proud of him. Of course his intentions may not be to kill people, but they will be to protect his home, family and country from all those that oppose us. Will I go running to the authorities about him? No, just as I won't about that little boy.

He lives here because it's too dangerous for him in his homeland and he can't help or truly understand what he's been taught yet, but maybe after he's grown up here he'll think twice about how he puts his life on the line for those he loves.

Privacy

Oh dear, I've done it again, upsetting people, well one person apparently. As we have discussed recently I'm not really one for sugar coating things, I like to say it as it is and would rather people did the same with me.

I am a fan of social networking sites when it comes to keeping in touch with people, I know it's lazy and I should pick up the phone, but lately the lethargic me has lost all interest and energy in the phone. So I am a frequent user of Facebook, having a nosey in to other people's lives and keeping up with all the gossip. It's also been a fantastic way of reconnecting with old school friends, I love looking at their pics and seeing how they've changed and if they have! 

So last night when I was at a bit of a loose end, my stalker was busy, I decided to check out some of my friends status. Someone had posted this comment along the lines of "I am woman hear me roar" and all that crap about being underpaid, overworked, blah blah, I'm a mum and of course one of her friends had dived straight in with the whole, oh woe is me, my husband left me for someone younger, prettier and now I'm left holding the baby.

Well, please, who could resist? It was like it had my name, inviting a comment, written all over it. So I did. Apparently she didn't like it and particularly the bit where I told her to suck it up and get on with her life, you know, your kid, your house, your job, your choice, get on with it and quit moaning. How funny when six paragraphs later I thought she'd finally finished I decided to stir the hornets nest a little more and told her if she didn't like it being commented on she shouldn't post all her personal life on the internet. 

I haven't had so much fun in ages, evil aren't I? Know what? I don't care. My private life is exactly that and even though I blog and comment on Facebook, I will still only reveal what I want people to know. I really wanted to send her a final message saying that I wasn't surprised her husband had left her, moany old cow...

So a word of warning readers, beware what you write, if you don't want people to comment then send it privately, you never know if I'll be reading!

Teachers & gifts

So this morning I was confronted by the news that apparently teachers are getting more and more extravagant gifts from their pupils, or rather the parents of their pupils. Some say blackmail, some say a nice thank you gesture, I say, where the bloody hell is mine? I'd love a Tiffany bracelet or £1000 in gift vouchers, though as I'm not actually a teacher maybe that's being a bit greedy. OK, I'll settle for £500 vouchers, hell, I do the hard work in the classroom anyway! But in reality what are we likely to get off the kids at my school? Nits, back chat or a black eye.

I'm not sure where all this giving teachers a gift came from, I don't remember doing it when I was a child but somewhere along the line someone decided we should be giving some sort of token to say thanks for all you've done. Now don't get me wrong, I think if your little cherub wants to say thank you, then it's a sign of good manners and you should be proud, but seriously, the use of daddy's holiday home in the Seychelles??? Bit much I think. 

As a parent I have been requested by my sons to purchase gifts for their favourite teachers and like all soft mothers I agreed. But they were little tokens that were thoughtfully chosen, rather than a whacking great rock from Harrods! It almost brings me on to the whole issue of why do we tip waiting staff and hairdressers? I know why it started but let's face it, hairdressers especially are no longer as hard done by as they may once have been.

Well all I can say is that in my year at the school where I work, I have received a few but lovely things from a very few students. Handmade cards from two of my lower achieving students and only this week, a bar of chocolate from one of the most challenging 15 year olds in the school.

Forget Mastercard.... working with students that have additional educational needs... priceless. 

Forgetfulness

As I was going up the stairs for the third time and trying to remember the reason why today, I began to wonder if this whole memory loss as you get older, really is confined to old age.

I'm not going to go in to the realms of dementia as that's something that should not be spoken of lightly, apart from fond stories of loved ones that we have permission to re-tell. At this point I'm thinking of Mr Grumpy's grandma and how along with her memory she also lost her hearing. What a lovely, little old lady she was and always made us laugh, whether it was when she was being helped out of the bath and shouted for her helpers to take care as they were "splitting her splitter" or the time when she declared she may as well stick her hearing aid up her bum for all the use it was.

I digress... So why is it that for years I've been trying to put the kettle in the fridge, or my car keys in the bin? As I was coming down the stairs for the fourth time I also recalled the time I couldn't find my purse, of course I panicked, someone must have stolen it, or maybe I lost it while I was out? No, of course it was neither of these, it was tucked safely in the fruit bowl with the bananas, why didn't I look there first?

This is nothing new, I've been doing it for years and even though I'm getting on a bit now, I still know that the milk lives in the fridge, so why oh why did I put it in the cereal cupboard? I think the answer to all of this must be put down to the hectic lifestyles we lead, I say we because I know I'm not alone, in fact I bet you've done it too, haven't you? Does this mean then we need to take extra care? Are we being watched by small people ready to ship us off to some home somewhere? I wondered why Master Grumpy was recording my every move... 

So as I ascend the stairs to.... now, why am I going up here again?

 

Food

As someone that loves eating and quite enjoys cooking I am naturally drawn to programmes like Come Dine with Me. I think it's a mixture of looking in to other people's homes and lives, getting new recipe ideas and a realisation that I'm not as bad in the kitchen as I sometimes think I am.

I've never been one for fancy cooking, the aim of any meal in my opinion is to fill the people you're feeding, both to satisfy their hunger and their desires. I marvel at some of the dishes people on CDWM serve up to complete strangers and expect them to be in awe and grateful. What's with all these tartlets with goats cheese or miniscule dishes of soup? If you're going to feed someone at least ensure they know they have had it!

My cookery skills and recipes have been accumulated over a number of years and vary in where they were discovered or taught. The good old roast dinner with Yorkshire puds has to be a joint thank you to my mother and father but for true inspiration my paternal grandmother. Sunday dinner at my grandparents was truly a feast beyond words and one which rendered us all helpless for at least two hours after eating it.

My older sister in law taught me how to cook some of my favourite meals when the poor woman had me living with her and my brother when I was at the tender age of 16. Lasagne, chicken in a white sauce with peppercorns and Florida chicken to name but a few, all of which I still cook now. Talking of sisters in law, my younger one is also an amazing cook and her style reminds me of my grandmother, without the grey hair of course.... we never leave their house hungry, come to think of it, we rarely leave her house sober either. Mmmm, think that's a sister in law thing.

Some of my friends have cooked lovely meals for me and there are some, Mr K, that I am still waiting to cook for me... and it doesn't matter what it is they serve up as there's very little I won't eat, stop sniggering, but why is it that anything that someone else has cooked nearly always tastes twice as nice as if you'd cooked it yourself? Maybe it's all in the mind, maybe my cooking really isn't as good as anyone elses! 

So, at my tender age of 72 (see earlier blog) I am finally chuffed to have a man cooking for me, never happened before, sorry Mr Grumpy, frozen fish bake and a tin of beans does not count as cooking. Yes, Master Musical loves being in the kitchen and produces some lovely meals, including a proper Baxter Yorkshire pudding. Hopefully this is the start of things to come... maybe we could get on a special family edition of CDWM with my sisters in law? maybe we'll just have to do our own version of it, whatever happens, it'll be a week of no diets!

Advice & Knowledge

Lately I've been feeling a little under the weather, I don't want to say ill as I don't think I have a real illness, just not my usual self. I can still get up in the morning, get myself and the others in the house motivated, fed and watered and off in whichever direction they need to be pointed. I still get to work with a smile on my face, make it through the day, make it home, cook, act as taxi service, mother, wife, lover.... (I can hear Mr Grumpy tutting at that last one and making some sarcastic comment) 

So what's the problem? Well, about 5 weeks ago I came down with a little cold, I don't usually suffer with them and to be fair it didn't last long and certainly didn't stop me doing anything I needed to. But I appear to have been left completely run down, no energy to be sociable and a most annoying little cough. This is the point where if I was listening to a family member or friend I'd be advising them to get to the doctor for a check up and I have actually told myself that this is what I should do. Unfortunately I'm very good at handing out advice but not very good at taking it when it applies to myself. I know that at New Year my blood count was a little low as the blood people tested me before I donated and wouldn't let me, so like a good girl I started taking a supplement but all it did was induce migraines. Blimey, I sound like a real hypo! 

Anyway, somebody told me a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, never really understood that, I would have thought it's more dangerous if you have no knowledge? Back to my cough, I have been told that it's one of the early warning signs of a rather nasty disease, bonkers aren't I? I guess that's the dangerous, little bit of knowledge my friends have warned me about.... So, I'll probably just keep plodding on til one of two things happen, I get better or I die, either way, sorry if I make you miserable in my misery but haven't got the energy to be jolly 24/7 as you can see I'm far too busy doing all those other things!

Cynicism

I was beginning to get a little worried that maybe I'm turning in to an old cynic, I guess that implies I was once a young cynic, mmm, maybe I was. However, after yet another non surprise when it comes to businesses I've been dealing with, I felt it only right to share my little story with you.

For those of you that have read my earlier blogs, pre-hibernation, you may recall a company I was having some problems with that kept paying money in to my bank account that was not rightfully mine. Of course, as I am a fine, honest, member of the public and married to Mr Grumpy, I notified them of this error, not once, nor twice but three times. Of course they promised that the issue had been rectified and would not happen again, they even put it in writing, telling me so.... liars. So I decided to ring their so called customer services and demanded that they called me back, I was fed up of being put on hold when it wasn't a local call charge, to which the very unhelpful person on the other end told me, "sorry, we're a call centre for people to call in to, we can't call you back" I explained that if they wanted their money they'd better call back, they did.

After more empty promises a lovely young lady called Laura said she's post me a pre-paid envelope so that I could post the money back to them and upon receipt my details would be removed from their system. I did as requested and when Mr Grumpy asked if I'd like the letter from Laura shredding, Little Miss Cynic here thought that maybe we should hang on to it, just in case.

Guess what? Yesterday an unexpected amount of money turned up in my account, quelle surprise! (That's French, knew that O level would come in handy one day) Again I called Laura, she was shocked, surprised and struggled to explain it, really Laura? Let me help, you're a bunch of imbeciles. Of course I remained calm and polite but left her in no doubt as to the fact that if they pay any more money into my bank, I won't bother calling them and I shall spend the bloody lot, then it'll be them ringing me and I just might keep them on hold for half an hour, hell, I might even insist that they can only have the cash back if they collect it in person or if I can pay it back a penny at a time. Think that might get their attention? let's just wait til next month and see.

I'll save the garage story, I'm not sure you can handle more cynicism today!

Subtle

I was having a little moment earlier and was considering if I should be subtle. OK, stop laughing, I can see you now.... Anyway, subtlety, is it really me? No, not at all. I find it annoying and misleading, let's just tell it like it is and stop pussy footing around. The trouble then is that there are some folk out there that have feelings and apparently we're not supposed to hurt them, we must show compassion, kindness and consideration. What a load of crap.

It's the age old thing, "Does this dress make me look fat?" Of course all men out there that may be reading this are thinking, must say no, must say no and the chances are that any woman asking that question knows she isn't fat, she's just digging for compliments. Well lady, stop it right now, look in the mirror and if you don't like it, change the bloody dress but stop dragging other people in to your sad world of neediness. 

Now with the ever increasing social networking sites, people seem to think it's ok to say what they want, appear mean, ask questions that are of no concern to them and generally involve themselves in things they shouldn't. I know that the whole point of Facebook, MySpace etc, is just a form of spying but why not use it for good?

I'm not going down the whole cyber bullying path, that's too heavy for me tonight, but I will say to some people out there, watch out, my initial comments will be subtle but believe me it won't last! 

Misery

Well, Monday has come around once again and is now almost at an end. People seem to dread this day, I'm guessing the people that don't work weekends, but is it really any different to all of the other days of the week in it's ability to make us miserable?

I love my weekends, though to call the weekend "mine" isn't strictly true. I tend to be a general taxi service for Master Grumpy and his sporting fixtures, chief cook, clothes washer and ironing expert for all the household and sometimes dog sitter for my brother. Regarding the dog sitting, I actually get the better end of the deal, as my brother has to have Master Grumpy at the football match for 2 hours!

So, my weekends are rather hectic and as my body clock is so finely tuned for the other five days of the week, I usually find myself wide awake at 6.30am on a Saturday and Sunday morning too. Somehow though I find myself  up and about and throwing myself in to the day, so for me it's actually no different to any other day. Why then, when I arrive at work on Monday morning am I met by a sea of miserable faces? Come to think of it, why am I met by miserable faces on all of the other days of the week too? Let me add at this point that I'm talking about the staff!

I walked in to the office, smiling and offered a cheery hello to my colleagues only to be met with misery, gloom and doubts surrounding my sanity or sobriety.... Why oh why are these people working in these jobs if they're truly that miserable? I know work isn't easy to come by, but I can honestly say that if I was that miserable I'd be busy looking for something else.

Well, I love my job and yes, do occasionally have the odd bad lesson, but on the whole I am very happy in my work and so will continue to turn up to school with a smile and a happy disposition, if for no other reason than to annoy the miserable gits I work with!

Age

I won't be obvious and talk about mothers day, although part of my inspiration has come from one of the presents my lovely boys have given me this morning. The curious case of Benjamin Button. I have never seen the film, though I obviously know what it's about, I just wasn't lucky enough to see it at the cinema. 

As you are aware, I work in a secondary school and on a daily basis am surrounded by young people desperate to be older. They try to act older, which usually only makes them appear much younger and more child like, they wear lots of make up thinking that this will make them appear more mature and it's not just the girls! They are obsessed with how old people are, I am asked at least once a week, usually by female students, "How old are you miss?" To which I will nearly always reply, "72" They laugh and say that of course I'm not that old, if I was that old I wouldn't be working, 72 to them is the verge of death. 

So then the ping pong begins, I have no intention of telling them my true age, not because I'm ashamed to admit it, but because I love to hear how old they think I am. I think the youngest age I've been guessed at so far is 28.... not bad eh? Still, the student in question, although 15, didn't realise that the word "there" begins with a letter T and not V. The oldest and closest was 38, still quite flattering though, but of course I'm not naive enough to think that they really know or care how old I am, they're just trying to get a feel for what life might be like for them when they're as old and wrinkly as me.

As for me, well I like to think I am a little like Benjamin Button in a reversed kind of way. I know I am getting older, physically, I can see it in the mirror, but mentally I'm heading backwards. Maybe it's working with young people that does it, maybe it's my boys that keep me young, whatever it is I'm not complaining. I feel about 18 in my head and am happier with my life and the skin I've grown in to than I've ever felt before.

As I mentioned somewhere else recently, I have a new favourite quote regarding my life and my appearance;

Your body is not a temple, it's a funground, now go and enjoy it! 

I'm back

So it appears I fell asleep, a bit like sleeping beauty but without the good looks. I knew I should never have picked up that needle, after all, isn't that the very reason wunda web was invented?

It's the most beautiful, sunny, Saturday morning and as someone who thinks that they may suffer with SAD, I feel I have finally come out of my hibernation. I hate the Winter, I hate snow, I hate being cold and I really hate the rain. The only good thing about any of the above is that at some point you know they'll end and Spring will be sprung.

I never used to believe in things like SAD, but then I didn't believe in ADD, ADHD and had never even heard of ODD.... then along came Master Grumpy and also my job. I really was an old cynic, maybe I still am about certain things, anyway, I'm not going to harp on about all of that on this gorgeous morning, but I am going to be happy and positive and try and muster the energy for all that the day ahead holds for me.

Not a very interesting or even lengthy blog, but just wanted to say..... I'm back!!!