Happy May Day! Luckily for us Great Brits, this year May 1st fell on a Monday, which meant another Glorious and Great British Bank Holiday for us all to enjoy. But today wasn’t going to be about BBQ’s, queues and booze. Today was to be about fun and frolics at the village fete, fairies, faun, flowers and phallic looking poles for us to prance around. Today was to be Pimms and lemonade on the lawn, followed by a raunchy summer romp in the miscanthus giganteus (that’s a large grass, just in case you were mistaken), finished off with the crowning glory of a beautiful May Queen. Happy May Day indeed. Could it possibly get any more pleasurable than this? Continue reading “MayDay MayDay”
Roll on the Great British Bank Holiday. A delightful long weekend in which important, tired and hard-working people get to rest their weary heads, and less important but equally as tired and hard-working FTM’s get to, quite frankly, carry on regardless. A joyful time in which the Great British Public love to either a) inebriate themselves over three consecutive days, whilst manning a succession of dwindling tinfoil BBQs in the pissing rain, wearing T-shirt and shorts, b) spend quality time with husbands, wives, partners and children, engaging in cohesive and incredibly fun activities, such as Twister, Jenga and Junior Trivial Pursuit or c) a bit of both, more commonly known as boozed-up childcare in the rain. Whichever way you choose to spend your Bank Holiday though, one thing is for sure: The Great British Bank Holiday simply wouldn’t be the same without a Great British Queue.
So here’s the thing. For the past year or so, I’ve been involved in an arrangement. A you-scratch-my-back-and-i’ll scratch-yours type of thing. In fact, I could easily go as far as to call it a relationship. A mutually beneficial, reciprocal kind of relationship, which saw its inception at the school gates. At first I was dubious, but after several rides, I was hooked. And so was She. Soon there was little alternative – we’d be lost without each other. Continue reading “Car Share”
It’s that time of year again. Another day to commemorate something or other incredibly meaningful. But this time it’s not International Day of Happiness (that was last week apparently), World Health Day (that’s next week, if you’re interested), or Global Wind Day (this one’s in June, if you celebrate making wind). No, today is all about Me. It’s Mothering Sunday, again. Gosh how quickly time flies. And this year is no different to the past 8 as Mum. Continue reading “Mothering Sunday: The T’s and C’s”
Recently, I was out on an adult-only evening which involved completing a meal in its entirety, whilst simultaneously engaging in civilised conversation, when my very adult friend asked if I would like to join her new book club. A book club? [I scoffed]. Now there’s a laugh. Isn’t that where grown-ups meet on a regular basis to unlock the hidden depths and common threads running through mutually selected texts, whilst nibbling on fancy flavoured nuts and tippling on tiny tots of sherry? My very adult friend took a sip of her robust-looking red, whilst I choked on my neon-looking pop and declined her invitation promptly. Captain Underpants and the Attack of the Talking Toilets would be lost on her club.
Have you gone a-mothering today? Chances are you haven’t. And never will. Unless of course, you are a Catholic or Protestant Christian, who has returned to the church in which you were baptised, for a commemorative Laetare Sunday service? Or perhaps you are a domestic servant who has been granted a whole day off to visit church with your mother and other family members? Now that’s more like it. Well, the domestic servant bit. Continue reading “Smothering Mumday”
So here we are again. The central heating is on, the woolly cardigans are out and X-Factor has started. The summer we’d all been waiting for is done. Done and dusted. Caught on camera before being swept away as abruptly as a tidal wave, leaving us with nothing but sepia-tinged memories to cling onto. Sombreros are gathering dust on the tops of cupboards and the rose-tinted spectacles that last week hugged us tightly, are now long-lost amigos, forgotten amongst cluttered drawers full of everything and nothing. Needless to say, my vitamin-D enriched skin is now peeling into snowflakes of white and my sun-kissed legs won’t get to see the light of day for another year.
I had procrastinated long enough. Summer, winter. Ready, not ready. It didn’t matter. There was never going to be a good time. Hickory dickory dock. The tick tock of the clock was beginning to rattle my cage. I had avoided the issue long enough. Now there were only 39 days until B day and the number 3 was on my mind. But what could be so fearsome as to warrant the complex web of excuses [forward-slash, “delay tactics”], that I’d spun myself? I’d been there and done it all before, so what was the big drama? Well, apparently everyone else around me had also been there and done it all before me. And as if that wasn’t enough, even my own social media sites were on board, prodding me with unnervingly omniscient pop-ups peddling subliminal messages, such as: “Start potty training for the most stubborn child in 3 days flat”.
There was nothing subliminal about that. Continue reading “Knicker-Bocker Glory”
Day eleven. 1.17pm. Baby propped. Bottle cocked. And here was I, a big fat shadow of my former self, barely recognisable to the world. And still in my pyjamas. I pitied the postman, I really did. Poor guy had more than he bargained for behind the door at number 88. A sleep-deprived bag of a woman, screaming baby in one hand, mobile phone pinging in the other. WHAT THE HELL TIME DO YOU CALL THIS? I wept. His non-smile said it all. He’d seen me in my smalls [or not so small lately] on far too many occasions. Miserable bastard. Continue reading “Baby Bootcamp”
Since when did “It’s OK, it’s perfectly normal” become such a coveted phrase? Since when did the hitherto banal word spelt “n.o.r.m.a.l” sound so damn gratifying? Since when did a state of “normality” become necessary to keep me sane at the very least? Since 4 years ago. Since I became a mum. Since now.
Normal adj 1. Usual; regular; typical
Norm n A standard that is required, desired, or regarded as normal
Normalise vb To bring into conformity with a standard Continue reading “A Blissful State of Normality”