Sunday 21 September 2014

Today's observations 20.09.14

1. I went out for dinner with a large crowd of friends last night. There were around 6 couples and we opted for an all-you-can eat type Chinese banquet. It was a really good restaurant and the food quality was amazing. The service, however, was the pivotal part of the experience as it was notably very good, especially for a group of our size that a. Recounted old stories and faux-pas, loudly, at any given opportunity b. Laughed with so much gusto that it likely cheesed off the other romancing diners c. Arrived a bit late d. Insisted on calling the waiters "John" e. Continued to try, with considerable effort, to talk in Chinese to each other f. Sang Happy Birthday several times, again loudly, with a poor attempt at a Mandarin accent. Additionally, the staff calculated our relative incompetence at ordering food and alcohol-catalysed declining IQ levels and took the executive decision to order a massivo plate of starters on our behalf. Which, naturally, worked out because we eat anything.
2. Foot burn in high heels is no laughing matter. The sneaky devil sneaks up on you at impromptu moments. Don't *even think* about taking off your shoe for momentary comfort; you will not be able to put the shoe back on.
3. It happens often. The champ of the night has booked us all into a great restaurant and we are really looking forward to it. We meet in a neighbouring pub beforehand (not a great pub, but I will come onto this shortly). This casual rendezvous is fun; folk haven't seen each other for, in some cases, several years and there was naturally some features up for discussion: kids had, pregnancies pending, new partners, new jobs, growing fatness etc. This is when the inevitable happens and track of time is lost. It's already 10mins passed the time of the table being booked and half of the crowd are outside smoking, the others have just ordered fresh pints, most are engaged in a meaty debate (probably about fatness) and one is shuffling from foot to foot - it's clear that he will want to urinate before we leave the pub. In a nutshell, the rendezvous is a hit but you will *always* be late to the restaurant.
4. This particular rendezvous pub wasn't a classy affair. It did the job, to be fair, in so much that there was a reasonably intact roof, a semi-functioning lavatory and some beer in the fridge. What if didn't have (I've streamlined the list considerably to provide a suitably snippy blog entry) were wine glasses. Not one. Apparently "they were all in the dishwasher". I was given a glass of dry white in a brandy glass that caused me to swish it around in palm of my hand and talk like 007. Actually, in their defence, they popped a little more wine in to compensate the fact that my classy outfit was thwarted by my drinking out of a bucket.
5. I learned last night that a male pastime of yester-year was to wear black socks over trainers in order to gain entry into the nightclub. I'll elaborate; back in the day, one was not allowed to participate in the prestigious nightclubbing experience of Ipswich if you were not suitably attired. One failing in particular was to wear trainers and expect to be granted entry into the nightclub - a bouncer would cuff your ear and tell you to get lost. This, naturally, brought your fun-packed evening to a standstill and also upset the dynamic of your group somewhat. So, the nifty idea created by the boy-men of Ipswich was to cover your white trainers over with a black sock; either your own or your pal's. This swift and stealth like operation would no doubt be implemented around the corner from the nightclub to optimise the facade. Most bouncers would not notice this, apparently. This mesmerised me. It mesmerised me for a couple of reasons: 1. A bouncer does not notice that a man's feet are covered in black Slazenger fleece 2. I didn't realise that any club in Ipswich was worthy of this effort 3. The casualness with which the gents at our table last night recounted the story (and mutually nodded with agreement) as if it was a totally normal thing to do.  What a neat trick and certainly one to tell our offspring one day.
6. A nice part about going out with long-term friends is that they remember stuff about your past and the people in it. If this case, my OH's old school friends recounted some really nice stories about OH's parents. It was lovely to hear. If you are reading Tel, the Marathon Medal in Assembly talk was well recalled and favoured. It bought a little tear to my eye to be honest.
7. In a not very proud moment of self-indulgence, I walked (supposedly to my Corona-fuelled brain) in a rather sultry manner through a packed pub to the ladies room. I'm such a dickhead. I don't know why I do this and who the hell I think I am. Anyway, karma had her wicked way and I walked straight into the corner of a fruit machine and looked a prat in front of everyone. Plank.

Tuesday 26 August 2014

Today's observations 26.08.14

1. We've just returned from a camping trip with the kids. It was our first time in the tent. It was fairly endearing in the sense that you only realise the meaning of family when you are all together as one little unit. The true meaning is stress and hassle. That's the true meaning.
2. We camped in Norfolk. Norfolk is a funny one. It has some good qualities: cheap housing, fine countryside, seals and lots of camp sites to choose from. It has other attributes that have made me want to weep recently that I will come onto very shortly. We camped in a small site next to Banham Zoo. It should have worked. We have a massive tent, all the cooking gear, fairly rough and ready children and ourselves, who are not afraid of getting hands dirty. We had two factors against us; a. Norfolk rules - this is my fault and I take full responsibility for taking our holiday to East Anglia's inferior county and b. The Great British Weather- this upset me the most. The weather is supposed to be sporadic in the UK - we expect it to taunt and tease us with a will-she, won't-she and dangle the BBQ/excursion/wedding day carrot with impish glee. I did expect some cloudy rain teasers. I didn't expect it to piss down for 3days. This upset me most greatly.
3. I can't bring myself to talk about Norfolk yet. That will come later.
4. There was a pub near the camp site. As the camp site offered just two facilities (toilet and adjacent zoo), we had to go to the pub lots to get dry, try to be happy, make it feel like a holiday and palm children onto someone else. This pub was excellent: it was clearly built in someone's living room and it resembled an intoxicated elderly home. It had a pub cat called Sep (someone else's problem- how witty!!) who provided the kids with the only entertainment possible (apart from the coin-operated-turn-cog-thing Minstrels machine which was rather dated if the colour of the Minstrels were anything to go by). The inevitable point came when the cat went to get his dinner which upset my children most profusely: the Balderdash! didn't look too appealing and the poor stinky moggy was the only means of solice for my toddlers.
5. For the first time, my son put his finger up an animal anus. On purpose. Sep pivoted around to get some sugar from my daughter and Tom spotted the cat's arsehole, into which he stabbed with his finger, made entry, then withdrew with such fright that I doubt he will do it again. Sep remained nonplussed (pussed) about the assault.
6. When you are in a tent with no electricity or anything very fun and it's raining outside you become really entertainment-reliant on the radio. It was on for the duration of the trip. We tuned into a local station called Radio Partridge or something. It was alright, but the requests bit was worth a mention. People in Norfolk only know the first few words of any given song. Rod (& Angie; Rod's sister-wife) from Wymondham requested "I wanna Dance" by Whitney Houston, Mick wanted "I'm Walking" by Katrina and The Waves (as a witty attribute to the relentless rain...arf arf) and Maureen quite fancied "Give me all" by ZZ Top. This was fun, like Guess the Song in the Field.
7. I has to chuck away my shoes when I returned home. They are pretend Birkenstock type sandals and they remained cold and wet for the whole weekend.
8. We did the same thing as we did every time we take the kids away. I pack totally inappropriate clothes and we have to go and buy lots more. Tescos in Diss robbed us of new fleeces, trousers and wooly socks; as I had the brazen audacity to only pack summer clothes.
9. The "how strong is your bladder" challenge continues. This time, the 3:12am wake in the freezing tent and your Shiraz wants to make an entrance. There's not a chance in (Norfolk) hell that it can wait until you get up (5:45am) so you have to brave it. I can never get out of the tent in the dark and one of the kids has hidden the torch. I'm not bloody happy. My hair gets caught in the zip on exiting the tent and my frigging shoes are wet and cold.
10. A neighbouring tent stayed up til around 11pm on the first night to talk rather flatly, about bacteria and chopping boards. They weren't local: from Colchester or Chelmsford or *saink*.
11. Calculate the time, in years or months, that you have been frequenting pubs on a regular basis. Now, try to gauge what time they usually open. That's fairly simple, now chuck in a couple of variable factors: it's Bank Holiday Monday and most people aren't at work. Right. Now add the location of "Norfolk" into the mix. That causes some uncertainty, but nonetheless, should still provide the majority with a rough idea of when a pub will open.
The second part: take your age and divide it by the number of wheely bins on your drive. Add the amount of times you've lost your keys and subtract the number of TVs you have in your house. The remaining number is what time Norfolk pubs open for trade.
12. Our tent pitch was located 18metres from the perimeter fence of Banham Zoo. It directly faced the "Australian Maned Wolf" enclosure. This meant that the foxy menace woke us each morning with a grunty snorty howl. This had some novelty value; both Diego and Luna were very close to where we slept our soft sleepy heads. In fact, on visiting the zoo on day 2, we could see our tent through the trees at the back of the wolves den. This added another gripe: we tolerate our shitting weather because the Northern Hemisphere is reliably unpredictable and crap in climate but relatively light in wildlife that will kill you. So now, not only were we camping in a soupy bog but also ran the risk of being chewed by an Ozzie predator who jumped the fence in attempt to escape their Norfolk nausea.
13. It was really nice, on the first day, sitting outside whilst OH cooked us tea on the stove and watching the kids eat tinned hotdogs on the picnic mat. That's the bit I'll remember.
14. Pillows always feel *wet* in a tent, eh!!
15. The camp site did have a "function room" that was closed; because August bank holiday weekend is not expected to be busy. Humph.
16. It also had a reception which didn't open much either so we were unable to collect some leaflets on what to do in Cambridgeshire and Suffolk.

Sunday 17 August 2014

Today's observations 17.08.14

1. Today's obs are mostly about BBQ functions. I'll start with kindly asking food-queuers to consider the needs of the person in the queue behind them. Once it's your turn to spoon coleslaw onto your plate or grab a rib, don't use this golden time to read the ketchup bottle or inspect the food debris on the serving spoon. You're On! This is your time! I'm after you! Hurry the ** up!
2. I've found that, as the person who is *next* in the queue- behind the hapless twit who has decided to really take his bloody time- then you can try boring holes into the dawdler's back with your laser eyes. You have to concentrate really hard. It helps to grip your paper plate hard too. It makes no difference to the prat's serving speed, but at least it passes the time.
3. Another method of getting the snail to speed up is to stand really close to them.
4. There is a rule that some people insist on not conforming to. Whilst food queuing, you are not authorised to pour a drink too. It wastes time. Get one later.
5. Another rule; when there is a stack of paper plates for guests to take and use, do not pile all your food onto the top plate whilst it's still on the stack. That's just fucking rude. I can knock that burger off in one fail swoop, moron.
6. Let's assume that the average property boasts an area of 100ft squared. Just for the sake of argument. At your average BBQ, 90% of the guests congregate in 10% of the property's floor space. Usually this is by the door to the room that holds the food.
7. Can't find the children? They are either in one of two places: a. Playing on steps. Just walking up and down them in a dippy trance. They are most fun, these steps. And it's the most inconvenient place for me to hang around, so I shall stay here and get under everyone's drunk feet. B. They are in the toy box that the host has tried to hide to eliminate bickering opportunities. They've found it. And now there are 8toddlers trying to share 4balls and they are all *waaah-ing* in sync.
8. It's always surprising and slightly awe-inspiring to witness how much meat a BBQ-dwelling man can consume. And how quick they can do it.
9. It's the men that take the longest in the food-queue; this is because they are assembling their burger like it's been nominated for an award. They do it with precision and care. See number 10.
10. "How hot is this sauce?"
"It's quite hot."
"How hot though?"
"I found it a bit too hot."
"How hot is hot though?"
"Yeah, it's quite hot. Try some."
"I dunno. Looks too hot".
"Yeah, it's quite hot".

Friday 1 August 2014

Today's observations 01.08.2014

1. Felt pen sharing etiquette. There is certainly an unwritten rule in our house that all the pinks, reds, purples and blues are property exclusively of the girl. All the blacks, browns, greys and the dried up yellows are the sole property of the boy.
2. I've been feeling a bit miserable today. Fellow parents who stay at home with children regularly will be familiar with this feeling. It's a bit monotonous and draining and they are at an age where they have to engage me in every single little action that they implement. It takes, personally, just a few things to drag me out of this smothering fug of whinge and tension: a. Spending money b. Beer c. Booking a holiday. Fellow readers: never underestimate the tediousness and relative difficulty of being the main caregiver to the kids. I've done some tricky stuff but this mofo is *hard*.
3. Honestly, it took 10mins to write that last post as my daughter keeps sneaking off, against orders to urinate in the garden when there is a perfectly functional toilet in the house.
4. On a brighter note, my youngest child is beating the shit out of our only garden tree with a purple diamente washing up brush.
5. We have a cardboard self-erect castle in our garden at the mo. It's one that you unfold, stand up in the garden and colour in with an assortment of felt pens. Said castle is notably now pink, purple and red due to Annie's vivid collection of colours with the old dash of dried up yellow from  the brother. Annie is trying to stand up this cardboard castle whilst it's a little windy. I have to admire her patience. What's worse is that whilst she is tackling the relative gale against the flimsy tower, her brother is trying to open the door of the castle and crawl through it whist Annie is still trying to suspend it off the floor.

6. You can tell the GDP of any given council estate by what ice creams are still left in the freezer at the co-op. The glanced-over fare at the Hawthorn Drive Co-operative lists currently as Magnum Champagne, Magnum Mint, Magnum white, Cornetto KingKong (or something) and a random few tubs of Roddas Clotted Cream Vanilla. No bugger from Chantry wants them. There was one solitary Mini Milk left, much to our joy, however it had already been opened and upon inspection of the wrapper perforation, it was opened with a child's mouth.
7. Both children are now in the castle but Tom is getting on Annie's nerves with his blatant disregard for the relative delicacy of the svelte walls. And he keeps tripping over the washing up brush that he has taken inside with him, making him fall into the walls and tipping the whole fortress over.
8. They are right what they say. Time does go quicker with age.




Monday 23 June 2014

Today's observations 23.06.14

1. We've just returned from the "Elite Holiday Villa". Most of my "Today's observations" are actually about our jolly to Hunstanton.
2. When it comes to kid's holidays, weather is king. You are simply not allowed to sit in the pub all day when you have eager sponge-minded children with you. It's not really acceptable, or even practical, to sit in a non-licensed venue (caravan, tent, QD) with them all day either. It really pays for your children to get out in the fresh air; with a bit of luck and cunning planning, they'll find another family to adopt. This chance is maximised by loitering near another family (or a childless couple!) who own a dog, a remote control gadget or a type of mechanical apparatus. If the new family (or couple!) don't do anything weird or religious with your precious offspring within 5-7mins, then they are consequently fair game to be left with the kids for the afternoon whilst you and the old man head off down "The Sundowner's Lounge" to partake in the most excellent promotion of BOGOF Sol.
3. I read Russell Brand's Booky Wook on holiday. It made me most enlightened to a few things; all of which spurred a fairish and comforting relief in myself. Amongst these things: he writes great and despite slandering his education (or contribution hereto), his vocabulary and prose is actually mesmerising. Also, you will never again feel guilty for your weekly 10 Marlboro Lights or the bottle-and-a-half of Sauvignon that you drank on most nights of your Norfolk jolly. You cannot feel guilty for this when Brand's consumption of the most alien and exotic of drink, drug and solvent stuffs to such extreme measures over such a long space of time has rendered him, nevertheless, a successful and profound bloke. One more thing: his writing style makes you want to say "parody", "cock-spurring" and "saucy!" a lot.
5. It's the right thing to do on holiday; relax. Most people do this. It's average and normal. Lots of folk like to sit and just chill out. Watch the world go by. Admire the view. Take a deep breath and soak up the scenario and the seaside vibe. Smell the chippy air and soak up the Whippy. I'm not very good at this. I do try to sit down. But it seems like we are waiting for something. And I get angsty. Like, what are we *actually going to do now?*. How long do we plan on sitting down, then? You know, just a ball park timeframe? Shall I go to the toilet now or after we've finished relaxing? Shall I take my shoes off? Would it be ok to do this in the pub with a drink in hand?
6. Perhaps I need to take some relaxing drugs like Brand.
7. It was a nice parenting moment. My kids, for the first time, went to a children's entertainment show in the clubhouse of the caravan site. Basically, of those of you who don't know (I bet everyone knows this), the prologue of the night's respective cabaret, magician, comedian  etc is a group of young adults from Cork, Hull, Leicester and Hull who try to entertain the kids whilst up on stage, waving their arms around, investing in dance routines, and talking "a lit-le bit like *this!!"the kids love it.  I remember it as a kid too (Although i don't remember liking it much, nor being able to really see much through the Silk-Cut fug). Anyway, my kids were great. They teetered up to the dance floor, fiercely holding each other's hands for moral support (or to establish their gang colours and territory, perhaps) and sat down. My oldest, who is 3, systematically rubbed her little brother's back for comfort and reassuring him that she wasn't leaving without him. I was overwhelmingly proud of her maternal instinct. I was disproportionately overjoyed and choked at my son's terrific behaviour. They had a flappy clappy dance with the "Sunshine crew" and tried to win me over for the adult dance. I did it of course, but only because I was a bit pished and had a nice top on.
8. When announcing the start of the adult dance, one of the "Sunshine Crew" told the kids that if mum and dad didn't want to dance it meant that they didn't love you anymore. I can see how the guy was trying to be funny. It was a good attempt at some "nudge-nudge ain't I a Joker!" humour but I didn't think hit the spot to be honest. Perhaps I am a little overprotective of what my pre-schoolers hear due to humour being generally a little lost on their SpongeBob minds at the moment and heaven forbid, they might've believed that dipshit Sunshine Stu.
9. The following night, my kids were cutting some shapes on the dancefloor again. My daughter excellent particularly, and her moves were most likely visually improved by the fact that her dance partner brother, didn't move at all and just stood, even through Carly Rae Jensen's "Call me Maybe" (a fav of mine) and stared at the stage with big eyes. His sister, although seriously digging her own moves, didn't move from his side and tried on several occasions to get him to participate by pushing her own face really close to his and stroking his back again. Another couple of kids started dancing nicely nearby and Annie grooved her way over and did some rather fantastic jazz hands whilst nodding her head like that fat-insurance-dog-car-toy. The other kids were accompanied by their adults and looked to them for reassurance that they could dance over to mine. These adults didn't know that we were sat right next to the dance floor and were in ear shot of them. I was a little surprised to hear (or watch her mouth - perhaps a combination of the two) that these kids there are travelling children. I think she meant mine! Oh dear.
10. I'm a little ashamed to admit that I bowed to the pressure and tried to indirectly assert my non Romany roots. I swiftly sashayed over to my gyrating daughter and statue rock-son and spoke to the kids in my absolutely dripping with regality Sloaney (and very made-up) voice *very loudly* so that the bitch knew I actually had a fixed abode. I said something wanky and unnecessary like "Do come on feather-britches, our Quail's Eggs are almost certainly al dente!" or "Bumpfy, darrrlling! Mummy would really like to to finish off your Almond Milk *before* you start your crevettes".
11. Of course, and entirely accurate retort to the (unfair!) accusation would have been "Annie, Mum has got a little tiddly and probably heard that woman totally incorrectly and has managed to actually piss herself off".
12. The following night, the "Sunshine Crew" brought out their mascot to cheer up the kids, who were no doubt a bit bored of Stu and Siobhan and their crappy dance moves, which were actually way too difficult for the kids to mimick. The mascot was a Seal called, actually, it might not have had a name. Shoddy. Anyway, he for sure *did* have mixamatosis or had previously had an unsuccessful run-in with a boat propellor.
13. A 7-seater hire car has no regard for the sheer amount of luggage that my aunty has to take with her for a 3-day holiday.
14. Our own car feels a bit shit now. Like a go-kart.


Thursday 12 June 2014

Today's observations 11.06.14

1. Space invaders. I've decided that there are certain situations where rules about personal space are compromised. Conflicting circumstances include underground trains/tubes/metros, where you can feasibly stand on someone's head and be within the parameters of decent manners and two very opposite places: sandwich  aisles of Boots, Tescos, Sainsburys and the reduced fresh section in Tesco. In these 2 zones, you have to give people a massive wide berth. People need their own space when choosing sandwiches or which price-slashed ready meal to poach from underneath someone's nose. It's strange that we subconsciously don't crowd people in these displays of lunch-stuffs or nearly-off fish. We stand back, peruse from afar. We know that we have already chosen, and mentally committed, to the Tuna Mayonnaise, but we can't reach for it until the fellow peruser, who stands around 10mm closer to the sandwich display than yourself, hasn't chosen yet and reaching for the sandwich may infringe their view. The reduced counter in supermarkets have a similar etiquette, expect for the anarchists: the OAPs whose grabby hands can snatch the 49p rollmops with stealth and sniper precision.
2. The World Cup has started and I am excited. Sporting choice aside, it gives my OH and I an opportunity to crowd around the TV and be jovial most evenings. It also means, however, we will spend lots of money going out to watch tv somewhere else.
3. My car was serviced today. I used a great garage that was recommended. They sorted the jalopy right out. The air conditioning no longer feels like Sunday morning breath: it now is an Swiss Alpine breeze experience. They hoovered up the jammy dodgers too. I do, however, have a minor gripe - and one that I recall experiencing before. When the service/work is all finished, they dump the completed and polished car in their forecourt ready for my collection. Unfortunately, they park it in such a fashion that *always* makes it awkward for me to drive away. I assure you; I'm an accomplished and relatively skilled driver. I'm confident in my skills. But there's something about reversing out of a space, left-manoeuvring around recently coiffured Lexus and right-angling around a sparkly Range Rover, whilst under the observing eyes of several mechanics, that leaves me a little nervous. Can't you just park my car in a gap that's really big so I may just roar out of it without a driving test on your damn forecourt?! Must you park 4 other cars around it? The sorry scenario was worsened by the chap assuring me on handing over the keys: "You can get out of there, can't you?"
4. A disadvantage of sling wearing. If the other child falls into a river, you can't jump on after her and expect to remain buoyant.
5. A disadvantage of sling wearing. Your child will steal sandwiches and tuck them into the sling like a SWAG Joey.
6. The array of sun protection and lotions in supermarkets and pharmacies adds to my doubt that I probably should not keep venturing out unprotected.
7. My leathery face contributes to this ponder.
8.  Pale blue is a shirt colour that suits all men.
9. My toddler son had an argument today with his own mirror reflection on public. I was very embarrassed. He even knew it was his reflection; he was just being a bit of a prat.
10. My daughter had to give our serviced car a "cuddle" when she arrived back from Playgroup. We really have done some things right.



Saturday 7 June 2014

Today's observations 07.06.2014

1. It is entirely possible (based on current situ and past musings) to have a hangover that is so extreme in form that it actually brings you to tears.
2. OH and I went out last night to a popular local waterfront boozer. It was an impromptu night out; we were meeting some new friends and we had childcare sorted for the evening. Despite ( as regular readers will know) being a fairly accomplished drinker, I became very drunk, very quickly. Luckily, our new comrades were the social sort too and followed suit and were great fun. You know you've made a proper new girlfriend when she puts your shoes on for you in a funky wine bar. And doesn't even ask why you took them off in the first place. She just does it.
2. This afternoon I realised why I had taken my shoes off. It's a sorry rule that women will never learn. You DO.NOT wear new shoes on a night out. It's a ridiculous concept. You should wear them in the garden for a week leading up to your desired event. Don't be a fool. My new shoes have a spot of blood, around the size of a 10p, on the left little toe area.
3. My little toe is sore. I'll explain the state of it. Take a chipolata sausage. Squash it together with your hands. Strip the sausage skin off. That's now my little toe.
4. Last nights shenanigans replaced an initial romantic night on for OH and I. I had purchased 2x fillet steaks, some fresh cut chips, rocket and posh stalky tomatoes from Marksy's. We ate them tonight. You really do get what you pay for. I don't use M&S much but I am consistently surprised at the excellent standard. We also have a nice bottle of Chianti to go with it but that can kiss my nauseous arse at the moment.
5. In one of the bars last night, I was standing in the patio garden with my new pal. We were chewing the fat about something when all of a sudden, the whole (packed) beer garden's occupants all surged forward towards us. There were a few "Ooophhhs" and "Woahhhh!". A woman had fallen over. She had misjudged the distance of a step and fell into the crowd. It would have been funny- but she did take quite a tumble and was wearing a short dress; compromising her dignity somewhat. However, the smokers of Bowman's were good sorts. They promptly enquired about her general welfare and picked her up. She was fine. The females amongst us quizzed her (perhaps a little sadistically) about the cause of the fall. Yep. New shoes.
6. The kids didn't arrive home from the grandparents today until 3pm. This provided us ample hangover slots. After vomiting several times this morning (the crying episode came after No2), I decided that I should shower to rinse off my hangover. That didn't work. I brushed my teeth again, but the plastic stick rummaging around in my mouth made me gag. I glugged a carton of orange juice; obviously ignorant to the fact that 12oranges swilling around in a scathed empty Hoover bag of a stomach was not wise. That didn't work. I had a bit more sleep. My OH sensed my need to be left completely alone and proceeded to keep pulling my pants down or poking my arm. He then, clearly in a much more chipper state than my own self, went downstairs to fix himself some breakfast. He returned back upstairs with a bowl of something and got back into bed next to me. I wouldn't have minded, but for some reason known only to God, he had boiled 3 eggs, mashed them up in a bowl, and brought them upstairs to eat. I was, naturally sick again. I don't know why he chose this peculiar nature of breakfast.
7. I started to feel a little better by 2pm. OH went and fetched a McDonalds for us. We actually ate it, very slowly and delicately, in bed. It was really fun. It's strange that for a clean-freak like me, you don't actually give a shit about crumbs in the bed when you feel so gut-wrenchingly ill.
8. My advice to other party-goers. An excellent boost to fitness from a rotten Hangover is a cold, icey, fizzy drink. I chose Fanta. It really hit the spot. Certainly much better that the cloudy glass of yesterday-water that I had been gingerly sipping since waking up.

Thursday 29 May 2014

Today's observations 29.05.14

1, I feel that, personally, when bar staff are overly presumptious (competent) and brazen (accommodating) to ask you *if* they can get you another wine! then they should fill it up a bit more than the policy amount. I felt pressured into saying "Yes please, a large one". I really did.
2. If I was to do this blog sarcastic thing for a living (my lesser read friends have suggested as such), it would certainly mean an alcohol dependance, as I am fruitfully more apt and skittishly bright when I have the Flavour.
3. I feel a little mean writing that ^^. As one of the ones who suggested it is actually really eager-literate and knows what he/she is talking about.
4. Win. Phew.
5. I don't think I'd get on that well with Ed Sheeran (he seems the shy and retiring type...they don't dig me much) but I do really like him. I'm in a bar waiting for a potential drinking pal and "Small Bump" is playing. It makes me well up with sadness.
6. My appt in London cancelled today. It wasn't really her fault...someone from the paper pushing corporate should have let me know apparantly. So, I did the right thing of legging it straight home to the hungry mouthed bambinos and washing up.
7. No. I didn't.  I stayed out on beer duty in a plight to my blogging comrades.
8. Thank god for the old schoolers. On hearing my London Town outing, my dear aunt (also a second <better!> mother to the children) felt that it's only prudent that my poor malnourished OH gets fed around her loving, steamy and meat-fuelled kitchen too. God only knows, he may have had to make his own dinner when his flappy girlfriend (not even a wife!) staggers around the capital ordering wine and schnibbles. Seriously, she's great, that woman. Her real name is Margaret and she hates it!! We shall call her CAM (Crazy Aunty M**) for now.
9.We've just booked a little holiday to Norfolk in a "Elite Holiday Villa". This is actually a Static Caravan with sympathetic panels to cover up the gap between the caravan floor and the concrete base on the earth ground. We are taking the aunt and uncle because they deserve it. I'm more excited about the road trip there and back (we've hired a 7-seater!!!) than anything else. Uncle R (let's call him Ricardo for the sake of anonymity) will want some Elton John on and we can all laugh at his singing.
10. Hiring a car is a PITA. They wanted to know if I had "penalties"; These are totally subjective to perceptions and religious standing, right?
11. A 7-seater car means, apparently, that the 3rd row of seats are occasional and hinders the boot room of the car. Ok. Doable. I know that, despite prior warning and clear explanation, CAM will still bring extra bedding for a bed that doesn't exist in the "Elite Villa". And surplus food for the children. And bacon for OH.
12. I don't reminisce much about my old pre-children life. I'll scrap that. That's a lie. I do. But I'm getting at a point here. Bear with me. I was thinking today about some plans we have as a family. A bit of house improvement. An "Elite Villa" holiday in the windy Wash. Impending Sea Life centres and too-hot chips from the bag. Sling walks and earthy wanky smugness. Clubhouses with much-below-par "entertainment". Scampi Fries and fruit machines. Terrible discos and dancing competitions. OH and I in (apparently) single beds that are questionably narrow. Children snug in their own MDF cradles. This is what it's all about, eh? This is what makes my eyes prickle with excitement. It's a bit shit compared to the old stuff. But my GOD! It's my family and I truly love them.
13. My children are going to be right arses on holiday. They will hurt my feelings by dampening expectations. Ha!
14.Honestly..if Carlsberg did aunts....it would be CAM. I bet she doesn't get that this song is about you.....don't you....*don't you*...x
15. This bar is filling up rapidly with people wearing suits. Nothing much else make a me feel more uneasy than corporate people and being overdominated by such. I've got on Peacock Jeans on and a St.Elizabeth's Hospice castoff. *nods*. I'm a home working twit and no, I nothing about what you are discussing and I likely never will.
16. CAM is still asking Richard if I mean her.
17. I fell asleep on the train last night. I got the late one home; only 10:30pm..not too late. I gathered an arsenal of sandwiches and crisps for the journey. I'd had a few beers so I got some water too. I closed by eyes for just a few minutes passed Chelmsford. Was woken by the "ding dong, you are now approaching Colchester". Cool beans! The tannoy will awaken me when I arrive at my destination, stealing me another 10mins kip on this warm train with a bellyful of Peroni and Salt and Vinegar squares.
18. Alas, the tannoy disappeared at Colchester. I woke again as no train was stationary in Ipswich (and about to depart for Diss) so I legged it off the train leaving a billowing (and ashamed) pile of crisp packets and sandwich wrappers. Sorry bout that Abellio Greater Anglia...but you will insist on sporadic alarm clocks that are most inconvenient.

Tuesday 20 May 2014

Today's observations 20.05.2014

1. Positive stories about Northern accents.

This is how you talk to someone if you are from the south of England.
"Shall we partake in the consumption of alcohol refreshments, wot wot?"
This is how you talk to someone if you are from The North.
"Fancy a beer?"
2. Negative stories about the same.
There's a Starbucks in Manchester station. When you order your coffee/tea, they write your name on the cardboard sleeve in order that they can call your name when your custom-made frothy-worthy consumerised crap is ready. So, I'm standing there waiting for my Mango-Schpango juice thing (I have another story about this later) which was obviously attributed to the name of "Jess". Other people were waiting too. The barista has a ready coffee in her hand ready to hand over to the rightful owner. She is small and cute and local to Manchester (Gemma). She shouts "Jeh! Jeh!" Everyone looks at each other. This name doesn't belong to any of us. The coffee has no owner. More importantly, we are still waiting for *our* drinks, with which the process will now take longer, because staff are fannying around trying house this orphan coffee.
"Jeh! Jeh". Everyone still looks taxed. I peek over the bang-bang coffee machine to see if someone is still making other people's drinks so we aren't endured to be here all day.
"Jeh?! Jeh!".
At this point another barista comes over. She is Eastern European but I can't tell you exactly where (Helena). She takes the coffee away from Gemma and reads the sleeve aloud: "Jay? Anyone called Jay?"
With that, the spectacled geek-chic lad next to me piped up "Yes, that's me!". He turns to us apologetically, as if it's his own fault that his name was so mispronounced.

3. I tried to elaborate my southerness whilst up North recently. I tried to talk like Holley Willoughbooby but instead sounded like JAAA-nit Street-PAWW-AH. I remarked to a northern pal; "I really need sum war-ah". "You mean water" she tastefully and neatly quipped.

4. There's a massive toilet on this train; it takes up at least a quarter of the carriage and is one of these custom-fit plastic units like a giant porta-potty. It has electronic doors which open and shut at a touch of button. When you sit on the toilet doing your  thing, a flighty electrical blip could cause this door to open of its on accord; thus displaying you at your most vulnerable state, to the whole of the carriage. I don't trust this door. The same seemingly minor electric flaw that causes, for example, the fucking wifi not to work on this train or that annoying blinky bulb in the overhead light could also whimsically open the toilet door whilst you are pulling your pants up.

5. That cocainey one from Status Quo just got on my train at Bury St Eds. He was probably here to buy cocaine. The Cockney rebel.

6. I used the tram today. No one checked my ticket and I could have done it for free.  This useless fact now bothers me a little.

Monday 19 May 2014

Today's observations 19.05.14

1. It's not good etiquette to attempt to order a wine top-up from train staff who are not assigned to serve refreshments. The man with the bin-bag couldn't be less accommodating.
2. I'm opposite a huff puffer on the train. She tuts, sighs and eye-rolls to *herself* every 10-12 mins. Her lips are constantly pursed. Her brow is constantly raised. She is significantly unhappy with the fellow commuter whose suitcase brushed her leg when he walked past. She is irked by the content of her magazine. She is miffed that she was asked to show her ticket. She doesn't want to make conversation with me and I'm afraid to say that I am a little intimidated to make eye contact with her. And...she looks just like the sly do-gooder in Muriel's Wedding that grassed up poor Muriel's mum to the Feds for punching some flip flops.
3. Laying on the platform, without kids, in the sun at the Ely station. It's a lovely day. I'm chilling like a chilled one. Except for a small pebble that is now undoubtedly imprinted into my buttock.
4. Tried to take a picture of my slovenly sunbathing at Ely station, just to show fellow FBers what a nice relaxing day I am having.  Took pic. I was squinting in the sun and resulting picture showed a big shiny white forehead and a face that was impossibly unmistakable for my mother's.
5. My reliance on technology is both relieving (how up-to-date am I!) and angsting. My phone's battery died on The train and I had to find my hotel without the map app contained within it. I actually had to speak to someone and indulge in their locational advice. How very beneath me and unpleasant.
6. It's not grim up North. My train is running along in between Sheffield and Stockport. The rolling hilly view is lush, velvety and just outstanding. It really portrays health and lustre. I can't get enough of it. It looks so idyllic.
7. Which is ironic seeing as Manchester issued me Hangover 4.3 this morning with a stealthy upgrade to Chronic Thirst 1.11 and Iffy Guts Pro.The idyllic fauna of the Pennines didn't save my sorry ass from that dodgy Danish beer that I drank 6pints of. I've since installed Norton Lucozade 2.5 and Macafee Bacon Elite to combat problem.
8. The trolley dolly made his appearance on the train after me waiting 2hours for something to eat. I was famished. I was thirsty. I was so happy to see Wayne from East Midland Railways. This Day 1 of my trip, so I hadn't yet installed Hangover 4.3. I asked the dude if they sold wines and stuff. "Of course!" he replied, and whipped out a massive, near-full-size, bottle of wine. "You look like you can drink this", he said. Cheeky fecker. He was certainly judging a book by its cover. I obvs look like I have a drinking problem or something. Huff Puffer grimaced again.
9. The beautiful Beyoncé lady studying Bio-Chemistry next to me blew me away for the whole of our trip. It was like watching Matt Damon scrawl his formulae genius all over the damn place. She then got a phone call from her (loud) boyfriend who was an out-and-out w*nker. She spent the last 15mins of her studying journey apologising for something, asking him not to swear and reasoning with the douche.
10. We are so lucky to live here. Sun shining through window. People reading mags. Trolleys being rattled through carrying sanitised and packaged food stuffs.
11. Just drove past an abandoned Warehouse car park: desolate concrete with a few cracks and weeds. There is a Vauxhall Caviller driving around; navigated and steered by a 4yo on her Dads knee. Brings back memories of us doing that with Dad in a Mazda 323 inComet car park on Ranelagh Rd.
12. I'm dead thirsty after that wine (I opted for the small bottle; Wayne's assumptions rattled me a little). Can I have some of the huff puffers water?
13. The umpteen FB memes posted by pages I have "liked" in the past, I've diagnosed, are really only thinly veiled attempts at racist patrioticism. George of England, We Love England (ergo) you are all Foreign Bar Stewards etc. Gah. Unlike, Defriend. This stuff is not helpful.
14.I need to buy an orange-red lipstick. All the young goodlooking people are sporting this. I need to tick this box to encourage my young goodlooking aspirations.
15. I'm so thirsty.There just be a Boots at Manchester Piccadilly. I need a lipstick and water.
16. I bought the lipstick (shade: Make an Entrance!) and forgot the water.
17. My pal and I did the pub quiz. Up North, all the questions are about politics.
18. Have decided to walk back from the station to home on this glorious day. The combination of Norton and Macafee saw away Hangover 4.3. There's a pub on the way home. I might meet OH and the children there.
19. I see that Flavour 6.0 Platinum Edition is available now. I think I shall just defrag overnight and try an install a bit later on the week. I reckon.
20. Sigh. Huff puff.

Monday 5 May 2014

Today's observations 05.05.14

1. Today we were consumed by the FLAVOUR. We aren't sorry. It's bank holiday. Things happen. Shit goes down. We went there. It's all gravy.
2. The kids and I just returned from a family weekend away at some local relatives. It was most fun. My OH had the whole bank holiday weekend to himself to bake cakes. It should have worked. It did. But he informed me of a most funny story about his Sunday night out. I was amused. I'll tell you lot: after 9ish hours on the piss, he was in a reasonably nice club and decided that his bowels were moving.  He actually was in a *night out* and needed a poo. He went. In the nice club. He fell asleep on the toilet for approximately 8mins whilst doing his thing. I found this really funny. I can't imagine needing to do that on a night out. I find it funny that the idea is inconceivable to me. Of course some people want to that on a night out. Weird people.
3. During my family weekend away, my OH did lots of cleaning (maybe prompting the enthusiastic gut) and tidying and chucking stuff away. He found new porn. This spurred a few high fives on our return. Weird people are us. Dat shit ain't normal. (I mean our eagerness....not the porn content).
4. We got a kebab tonight after FLAVOUR delving. The kids came too. They had something nutritious and biege. We had a Chicken Shish and Cocky Chilli Sauce. Hands up! We are tossers. We have spent the last 20mins eating it in the most unattractive state. The newly discovered porn is most needed now. Imagine the old cartoons of the thirst-stricken starving man, ragged, dragging himself through the desert in search of salvation and hope. That was us. We consumed the Cocky Twat Chilli sauce riddled Shish with gusto and quick regret. We panted like sweaty dogs. We actually had our tongues hanging out of our mouths.
5. My OH keeps passing wind. I've gone beyond the point of getting cross. This transition *actually* happens when you've known each other a long time. He has done it *so* many times! and the stench is so unreservedly pungent, that it now makes me guffaw most cheerfully. He doesn't even mean to be so rotten. I don't like the action, nor the smell. But he clearly can't help it. No one would choose to be so fundamentally foul.
6. There's not much that makes a parent move quite so quickly**** off their pub bench that a large *eager* dog that has entered a beer garden without being invited and started swishing around the kids.
7. This is funny. My son, who is a bit daft, launched himself onto our local pub's bouncy castle today. He was so excited and flappy. The bouncy castle wasn't even inflated!!! It was flat!! Haw haw!! I really laughed. He couldn't bounce at all! He looked at me, whilst remaining flappy and excited, and slapped the sad stitched vinyl a few times. I was giggling into my Sauvignon.
8. After our manageable kebab, we watched Storage Wars. If you haven't seen it, do. It features a series of private storage units that have done to disarray and are subsequently sold off to the highest bidder with the intention of selling the contents on for profit. The idea is cool. The contents are interesting. But the bidding is most exceptional. There are a group of Brandis, Randis, Candis and Als who all fancy this collective of crap gear. Real shit junk. The organiser guy is asking for bids. He does it likes this: mmmmm-galah-balah-balah-wallawalla-wallaballa-WANT!-HUNDRED!! Mmmmmmm-walla-ballah-wallWallA Wahhhhh!!!! Balla-Galla-TWO!!!! Wah!! Gah!! THREE!!! FOUR-FIVE!!!! Mmmmmmmm-walla-wallla-walllla.. Someone eventually wins!
****i didn't see it. I was texting someone probably.


Wednesday 30 April 2014

Today's observations 30.04 .14

1. Ticket rules issued by National Rail are sporadic, unlogical and more frighteningly, unknown to National Rail's actual staff. This happened today on arrival at Liverpool Station's Ticket Office at 10:15am:
Cashier: 'Ello.
Me: Hi there! I have this ticket back to Ipswich for 1pm. My appointment this morning has cancelled and so I would like to head back before 1pm. Like, now. Is that possible? If I need to pay more to make up the difference, that's fine.
Cashier: Let me see what I will cost ya. Ah, it will be another £46.50.
Me: Christ. The original ticket was only £15. I'll wait it out. Bummer.
Cashier: Well, if you can wait until 12pm, you can get on that train.
Me: Really? And I don't have to pay anymore? Ok. That would be fine.
Cashier: Yeah, sure. You can get on the 12o'clock with this ticket.
Me: Groovy. Thanks a lot!
Cashier: Mmmmm.

I got on the 12pm train. I was getting home a little earlier than anticipated. All good.
The ticket officer came around and saw that my ticket had 1pm written on it and he got all eggy. I explained that the Liverpool St ticket officer said that it would be fine to embark on this train. I explained the conversation.
I had to purchase another ticket. I'm miffed and cheesed off. Not only have the London Underground *proper* effed me over yesterday - now I have to deal with a uniformed Nazi into a mini computer as well.
2. On a positive note, the stroll from St Pancras to Liverpool St this morning was most beautiful. It only took 7.5 hours and the sun was shining.
3. The variety of food-stuffs available at stations to a mere mortal like me is most mesmerising. I totally dig London Town. I just ate raw fish for breakfast followed by some cumin chicken soup all washed down with a hot chocolate.
4. I wonder what the toilets are like on this train. I feel most bloated and pressurised, like a gas canister, after eating all that revolting gone-off train station food.
5. Someone walked past my hotel bedroom window last night, I estimate around 4am, and declared, rather loudly: "I really need a poo".
6. What's the etiquette for crossing a road in London when the lights say "red man" but there's nothing coming to run you over?
7. What's the etiquette for crossing a road in London when the lights say "red man" but the traffic is all queued at the traffic lights and not actually moving?
8. What's the etiquette for helping women with pushchairs down the underground stairs?
9. That was a trick. I know the answer to No. 8. But 40people in St. Paul's do not.
10. I had an eye test today. First one ever. The dear optician was most sweet. She asked me to read the letters on the board. I pretended to do this with random letters that statistically had little chance of corresponding correctly with the letters that were actually on the board.  Chance was not my friend; I obviously got them all wrong. I fessed to the nice optician that I didn't know what board she was actually on about and would she kindly point out where this said board is actually located.
11. I got a prescription for some glasses. I tried a few pairs on in the shop. They were most unbecoming and aren't my bag at all so I have to say that I not going to bother with this first world problem. As long as I can fasten my children's seat belts then that'll do.
12. The optician made me complete a health questionnaire. They always feel like a trick. No one else was completing one. I'm sure there is a calibration allowance on these types of assessments to accommodate people's truth slipping.
13. I'll get some specs at the weekend. I'm squinting like Rab C Nesbitt just typing this.

Tuesday 29 April 2014

Today's observations 29.04.14

1. I'm in town today. You know. Larnden. My auto correct just changed "observations" to "overstated". How  fitting.
2. The tube strike has made my very profitable trip very unprofitable. I'm not sure I can forge the calmness that I should have towards the public sector presently.
3. I was a bit early for my evening appt. I'm in a pub on my own. I have my iPad and crisps and wine and phone. I want another drink. I asked the business suit type guys next to me to keep an eye on my stuff. They said yes. They looked *well* trustworthy. They wore suits. They worked (earwigging) in finance. There's not way thems apples are fraudulent. No way.
4. When someone else is looking after your worldly wares when you are casually ordering another drink at the bar (tres importante), the cashier dude seems awfully slow. You keep peeking, again, very subtlety, at the chaps that you have assigned guardianship of your gear. You don't want to make eye contact. You don't want to appear mistrusting. But, you know, "Franco" is really taking his time printing an effing receipt. I bet my iPad is gone. Ole Franks finger is hovering over the "wants receipt" button with trepidation and confusion. I want a bloody receipt, Frank. Get a wiggle on.
5. They were true. They kept my stuff safe. But they are looking at what I am typing right now so I used some Walkers Ready Salted to guard the screen from prying banker eyes.
6. The Walkers just touched the screen and it opened a Dora the Explorer app. I was afraid that I had lost my witty blog entry.
7. The tube strike has brought out a mixture of feelings in me. I'd like to say they weren't all sour and unforgiving and p*ssed off.

Saturday 26 April 2014

Today's observations 26.04.14

1. Despite the proclaimed safety of air travel, you still get an internal blankety warmth of comfort when your loved one texts to say that they've landed. They are *alright*. All was hunky dory with that flying hunk of metal whooshing over the Irish Sea. Ryanair looked after my fella.
2. Now, pubs and inns of fair Dublin, it's a bit of a mission, but would you kindly try and do the same.
3. When you are home alone, you can out all your stuff that you need to hand on the *same seat on which you are sat*. I'm rooted very comfortably on my sofa and on the very same seat is a phone, a packet of crisps, a *balanced glass of wine*, a remote controller, an e-cig, and an iPad. This could never happen if the other residents were also here. It's most civilised.
4. I have ample movies saved in the Sky+ planner; all saved for an occasion such as this. In fact, this is the first time that I have sat, alone, to watch a movie since my first Maternity Leave. The joy theory is sound. Alas, Sky is total shit. I have started, voyeured, and stopped 3movies so far.  I'm now on a Ray Winstone one which is guaranteed to be another realm of Cockney crap.
5. Over eager car dancing is very embarrassing. It's impossible to run away from the tirade of finger pointing and laughing when you are queuing at a red light.
6. I fail to see why someone has to take €300 on a night out.
7. When you have known someone a long time, you can predict and *guarantee* their hangover habits. My OHs are cemented. He wakes up merry, a little fruity and jovial. This can be diagnosed as still being pissed. By midday, he quietens significantly and his eyelids droop. By 2pm, he is most eggy. You have to let him sleep, child-free, until around 5pm, where his mood liftens.
8. This is also the same time as the Chinese takeaway opens, which, if I was a cynical sort, would be very convenient timing.
9. I seemed to have misplaced 4packets of crisps on my sofa seat. Someone has swapped them for empty bags instead.
10.  Bloody hell, it's quiet.

Thursday 24 April 2014

Today's observations 24.04.14

1. I'm getting uncharacteristically cross about how much chain coffee shops charge for soft drinks. I purchased an orange juice for my two rotten children yesterday in a well-known Coffee house that had sticky carpet. It was £2.20. It's extortionate. There's no way my kids are worth that investment into thirst-reduction.
2. If I was more organised, I would bring my own drinks.
3. If I was more organised, I wouldn't bring the kids.
4. I went to a local nursery "show-around" day yesterday for my oldest child's impending commencement at pre-school. I rocked up there with my rotten children who had a most splendid time showing me up. I jest, of course, there were supremely behaved and had a lovely time at this delicious estate primary. I do hope we get in there. They had the *whole* range of Peppa Pig figurines which firmly confirms to me that their education investment is paramount and uncompromised.
5. I'm not very good at packing shopping whilst at the pay-bit in a supermarket. I was in the leading supermarket today and I had purchased some groceries. I chucked them onto the conveyor belt hastily, because there is no way I will say "Yes" if the cashier asks me if "I want any help packing". Saying yes to that feels the same as saying "Yes please, I'm a total tosser". In hindsight, I should have accepted. My carrier bag packing is terrible. Nothing fits in the gaps in the carrier bag as I wanted them to. My packed carrier bag resembles a game of Tetris played by a toddler.
6. This rather sporadic and ineffective method of organising also renders the already-paltry carrier bag to split, meaning that on arriving home, I have to do the wanky "fast-walk" up the driveway with all the bags, because they are all on the teetering edge of disintegrating and spilling my goods all over the place. I can already see that the polymer is strained on at least three-quarters of the shopping bags, probably caused me shoving 6bottles of wine into one.
7. I had a fail moment today. I deserved it. I was storming around Tescos with my shopping with my toddler strapped to my back like the fantastic superior mud-woman that I am. Check me, buggy brigade. This is how I roll. Halfway through my shopping, my son woke up and realised that we were in the place of dreams. He displayed his excitement of being in the confectionary aisle by, stupidly, sticking his whole fist in his own mouth. I don't know why he did that. He doesn't probably know either. Anyway, it made him gag and he brought up some spick (sick/spit). It went all down my back. I could see the reflection in the freezer cabinet. I was most annoyed. Everyone was looking at me and no doubt wondering why I had a child crucified to my spine in the first place. Especially one that could competently walk. Even the buggy pushers guffawed a little. I was cheesed off with my son. I could have strangled him with my tie-dye. I flip-flopped home with a buttery shoulder and vowed to muzzle child next time.

Monday 21 April 2014

Today's observations 21.04.14

1. I make some notes sporadically for the sake of blog content. They are here in front of me. No1 says Hotel Vs No Child. I don't know what this means. Hopefully it will become appear apparant further into the blog.
2. I must admit, the crypticism is bothering me.
3. My OH just ran in, all hot and bothered and all that.
4. I'll finish no4 in a minute. I've remembered no1.
5. You rob hotels more when you have children. It's true. The more there is to lift...the more your kids would love it. Unfortunately, my new found memory for this translation cannot think what I was referring to specifically. Ah, yes...notepads and pencils.
6. My OH just ran in and was most excited. "Real Madrid or Bayern Munich!!!! Who's it gonna be! What's gonna happen! Argh! Ahhhh! Gah! God! What's gonna happen Jessie? Bloody hell!". I said that I categorically don't give a flying fig really.
7. We were in our local beer garden today. It really is a most friendly local pub. They know us well. It has a well placed patio garden with *ample* child's toys and amusements. They inflated the bouncey castle just for us. The dear local publican child battled us off, gauntlet style, from approaching the desired inflatable with a Hose-Lokk shower attachment. My children sought a similar arsenal. None was to be found. They instead purchased some "Swee-eez" from the vending machine as a peaceful trade off. It worked. Freddie was won over by the colourful E numbers.
8. Those same colourful "fruit cables" chewy sweets were most interesting. They were so vivid in colour and so starchy in firmness...that they could have actually been attached to a circuit board.
9. Impromptu alcohol. On returning from our beer garden holiday, we arrived home with no means to continue the party. We have still got that 1/4 bottle of vodka in the (still-there) collection of "shed-shite" on the driveway. We have some mulled wine from 2010 (no-one wants to drink that, but we are keeping it for a pre-agreed 25years to see if it turns into an egg) and also, more positively, a bottle of Cava. We opened the Cava. We are celebrating. We are celebrating the world. We don't have anything else to drink as a result of our own bad a planning (and the "FLAVOUR" that crept up naughtily) so we are celebrating our own quick wit of thinking to open the Cava.
10. It's wedding season. People are thinking about getting married,  or even actually planning their wedding. No-one asks me what I think about getting married anymore. They know. I'm not a fan of  it - and that's putting it mildly. It's worthy of a separate blog to be honest.

Friday 18 April 2014

Today's observations

1. It's bank holiday. Everyone is off and all the shops are shut. What are we supposed to do then?
2. You know it's a public holiday when your OH is *in the shed*. There are now 38empty tins of paint, a dubious air bed, a baby rubber ring, an empty bottle of vodka (?),  12 split bags of charcoal, 3 empty bottles or lighting fluid, a broken parasol, and 155,345 empty wine bottles on our drive.
3. Free to a good home: 38tins of barely used high quality paint. Will need some elbow grease getting them open.
4. Don't ask a child to carry a bag home from the shop. Even if the bag is super light. They don't want to carry anything. They whinge the entire return trip home.
5. All that shed shite is still on the driveway. I wonder if there is a further plan for them.
6. Getting an extra day off is not as much fun when you are self employed.
7. Bank Holidays bring new uncovered family observations. We are all together for a longer period of time. I've noticed:
A. My children complain *all the time*.
B. They both have an insatiable requirement of *wanting* something at any given point in the day. They are seldom satisfied with not having been given something.
C. We have quite a lot of unused paint.
D. We all have a desire to have a BBQ, even if the climate doesn't quite suit.
8. When you try and place a new item into our refrigerator, all the condiments fall over. This really winds me up. We have 16 bottles of half-used pickles, creams, relishes, sauces and mayos. We could do with a separate fridge just for these.
9. We held a child's birthday party this week. I've written about birthday party etiquette before. I have a new addition to the list. I'd like to point out that, when there are 3bottles of lemonade that are already open, you don't need to open another one. On cleaning up yesterday morning, there were 4bottles of lemonade that all had had 1 glass taken from them. Groan.
10. Someone started the second coleslaw prematurely too.


Tuesday 15 April 2014

Today's observations 15.04.14

1. I don't get the rage that much, but a commuter sitting in the aisle seat of a packed train, therefore blocking access to the empty seat next to him, gives me the 'ump. Especially when the sweaty prat folds down the table of the empty seat, so it looks "occupied". It doesn't look occupied. It looks available. You gormless inconsiderate prat. See this finger? I'd like to poke it into your eyeball, you arrogant tool.
2. Whilst I'm on that that topic, oh witless one, don't *for one second* think that burying your red nose deep into a newspaper makes that seat any less available. Just because you are mock-engaged into Metro, it doesn't strip another seat-less commuter's ability to get you to move your fat arse.
3. Whilst waiting to disembark the train (and additionally wait to be thrown forward into the adjoining carriage on the train stopping with the grace of the aforementioned seat-thief)  I took a look around at the other impatient commuters who were hanging around the train doors, wanting to get off as soon as the train stopped and hence wasting no time getting home. There's the usual non-eye contact. There's the usual lanky bloke with the fold-up bike. There's the OAP lady with more luggage than anyone else in the world ever. There's the suit who is still fiddling around with his blackberry. There's the Sloany teen with her long legs, beads and plimsols who is still picking the Chicken Flatbread that she started an hour ago. There's the builder who still has his high-viz on. There's the middle aged woman-chums who are squiffy from their shopping trip. Everyone has earphones in. Everyone is listening to music. No-body can actually hear anyone else. It's bizarre. You could shriek, whistle, swear, announce a platform change, cackle or fart, and nobody would hear you.
4. The OAP has no ear phones. But I imagine that her hearing is a little weaker than the others in any case.
5. I feel all swishy when I walk through stations. Like I'm famous or important or something. I also like to imagine that I'm meeting a loved one after a long absence. I have no idea why I do this. I'd wager I talk to myself too. Because of those damn earphones I can't hear anything anyway.
6. I played it cool. I was walking down the platform to get on the train that would take me home. It was 5:28. The train was leaving at 5:30. I took my time. The fellow passengers already seated on the train no doubt looked at me with admiration; me looking all clam and cool, walking down the platform, looking for an available seat through the windows, not in a hurry because the train would leave soon. I'm a regular commuter, I'm a worldly bird, I'm London savvy. Check me out with my assured stroll further down the platform.
7. Then a uniformed bloke blew a whistle and I started running and leapt into the train. The change in my gait and expression was likely quite comical.

Monday 14 April 2014

Today's observations 14.04.14

1. I don't care what anyone says; PCs are infinitely more useable than phones or tablets.
2. Cashpoints, in my opinion, bring out the fudge of dumbness in people. Always the person in front of me. I've never seen a more vacant and extreme poise of perplexity than a hopeful cash withdrawer who has been asked, predictively, a number of questions in a dem for the ATM to provide withdrawer a service. After the token 467attempts at entering the numerical PIN (a code, I'll bet, the withdrawer has used before), the code is accepted (perhaps through pity) the shoulders and furrowed brow relaxes when she realises that she is nearly there. It's a little bit marvellous that the stage that *really* stumps the withdrawer is the totally unreasonable question of "do you want an advice slip?" The confusion resumes. Even with the notion that it's a Yes/No answer, and even if that's categorically too taxing, then she at leaat has a 50% chance of unwittingly choosing the correct option, she is still at a loss what to do.
3. I'm tempted to offer her assistance for solely aid purposes.
4. 1.5minutes later, I'm tempted to offer assistance because I'm getting annoyed.
5. A mother chastising her child, on a train, is audio-amplified.
6. Annie: Wooooaaah! maaam! Maaam! I can see an aeroplane! Gahhh! Arghhh! An aeroplane!
Me: Wow! Check that out! What *colour* is the aeroplane!
Annie: White!
Me: That's cool. What's your *favourite* colour Annie?
Annie: Simon.
Tom: Yeah, Simon.
7. Wheely suitcases. What the *hell* are you doing? Everyone uses them in stations. It triples the population of the station concourse. They are fucking crap. At the top of an escalator, everyone grinds to a bundled-bottleneck because that stupid man has *STOPPED* to pull that pathetic lever up so he doesn't have to actually carry his bag. He also walks very slowly in the following 10yards, as if gauging the contrast between moving escalated floor and ordinary station floor. This causes the bottleneck to stay stagnant; resulting in commuters having to engage much more than they'd choose.

Saturday 12 April 2014

Today's observations 11.04.14

1. How ironic! I went to Southend today and wanted to write about it. "Today's observations" got autochecked to "Today's observe stuns", which is much more fitting for my South Essex jaunt.
2. I see young girls in town centres chewing the fat and making idle sweet chit chat over their skinny Mochas in Costa. I love this so much. I love that they are able to sit over a hot drink and have a lovely chat without damaging their body or offending other clientele or getting engaged or something stupid.
3. This sound socialising behaviour is a far cry from my own teenage activities. We grabbed a drink in either a corner shop or a pub. We grabbed food from either Nan's or a chip shop. We didn't talk, we just scrutinised music acts and popular people. It wasn't very positive. But it was muse-rich.
4. Southend was actually lovely. The sun was out, it was 11am, and I would hazard a guess that the majority of the scroats were still in bed.
5. Apart from one guy. He was walking a Pit Bull cross with Woolly Mammoth down the High St, shouting at people who were staring at him *because he was shouting*. The vicious circle of this rather understanble confrontation was lost on him. He was also bare chested, which was optimistic for the 11am sunshine. You could see the goose pimples on the cocky clown.
6. Southend has a *massive* Primark and a shop whose sole purpose as to apply Eye Lash extensions. It was called Lashlicous or something. I'm not into that sort of accessorising, but I tell you what readers, I *really* wanted to have some fluttery eye lashes stuck on.
7. I'd like to highlight a scenario of my stereo typical Britishness. I made a simple transaction in a shop yesterday. I purchased some slip on cheap shoes in a rather unethical large cheap retail clothing store in Southend.  This is the conversation on the transaction taking place:
(I hand over shows to cashier)
Me: Thanks.
Her: £4.99
(I hand over £5 note)
Me: Thanks
(She hands me back the change)
Me: Thanks
(She hands me the bagged shoes)
Me: Thanks so much
Me: Thaks very much, cheerio.
8. I know that the 10 Free Minutes on the Red Hot Channels have to cater for a diverse audience. But it doesn't have to be that diverse. Good grief.
9. Those piece of shit crap Primark shoes broke when I was at my next appointment.
10. Rules do driving. Never chance a stored wee, even if you think you'll be ok. Some prat on the A12 will have other ideas, and then you are up the creek with just a crap Primark bag that's made lf of brown paper.
11. Never think that your OH will want to go to sleep when he arrives home from his night out. He wants to tell you all about it.....staggeringly.....schhhhloooowwwwly.


Thursday 10 April 2014

Today's observations 10.04.14

1. The annoyance of someone else's alarm clock sounding, repeatedly, whilst being repeatedly "snoozed" is disproportionately high.
2. Water....the ..taste of...at 3:54am...after a ...night...out. Can't ...describe...how good it tastes...
3. Announcing that a cull of your Facebook friends is looming has to be one of the most wanky and unreasonable things to do ever.
4. Things that are not supposed to be understood:
a. Quantum Physics
b. Tax calculations from Inland Revenue, including tax codes and their sporadic allocations of such.
c. Pensions and how they are actually formed and how they are different from just saving money.
d. Talcum Powder.
e. Windows 8
f. Any call centre operator.
5. This is a worthy scenario of a mention. You are on the bus laden with small wobbly children and bags. You press the button to stop the bus. Bus stops at your stop. You gather children and shopping and venture down the aisle to the bus doors to disembark. At some point midway, you realise that the bus has not actually stopped fully. Inevitably, the bus will actually come to a halt and fling you forwards - and there is nothing for you and the kids to hold onto. In fact, you have no available hands with which to grab a supporting rail or seat in preparation for the dramatic halt.  In a calculating split second, you root your feet, optimistically, to the bus floor and pull the children close into you; forming a child tree from which they can cling to. You wait for the stopping force to happen, and hope for the best.
6. Leaving soiled dishes to *soak* the sink also means *I cannot be bothered to wash up and so I shall leave it there for another person to do it*.
7. You know you are in a rough bit of the town centre when men shout at their dogs in the street (Note: the dog really didn't care. He *eye-rolled* his skinny owner with disdain).
8. I hate generalisations. I really do.
9. But, if I could categorise all the rude people I meet by demographic, they are 98% OAP and female.
10. The kindest people I meet are teenage girls. Well done you parents.
11. I received a pension statement through recently. It had a potential balance of what I can expect to receive on retirement. I don't think there was any correspondence missing from this statement, so I am a little unsure of its accuracy. The balance was meagre, and that's being kind. Does someone top this up when I retire? The government? The Old Persons Club? That balance can't be it can it? Kevin and I cant retire that. Can someone please sort this.
12. So that's why the OAPs are rude.


Wednesday 9 April 2014

Today's observations 09.04.14

1. You can accurately measure the GDP of any given housing estate by the girth of the rolled cigarettes.
2. The more expensive crisps are the tastiest.
3. The more expensive crisps have more gum-slicing potential.
4. A partially constructed Kinder Egg toy, where the absent pieces are actually *missing* , is surely a crying matter; whatever your age and experience.
5. I got the FLAVOUR tonight. I didn't resist.
6. A suspect nappy smell, when you are with your other-half  (let's call him OH for the sake of ease) in a public place, will never prompt an instant physical reaction from him. It will rather gauge a *puzzled* and *perplexed* look. It's almost as if the very concept of a soiled nappy could never happen in his presence. Does this scenario actually *warrant* an action? Does this action have to be implemented *right now*. How very taxing indeed.  Oh. Someone's already sorted it.
7. I'm rigourously calorie counting at the mo. I have a set plan of XX kcal per day. The measurements are sound during the day. They change a bit when I've got the FLAVOUR and need to add sporadic wine consumption. To summarise, I've had 0.02grams of breakfast today, 0.06grams of dinner and some wine.
8. I did properly log the satsuma, to be fair.
9. Supermarket pricing got interesting. The shelving label now gives the price per unit. Nappies are £0.01 per unit. Baby wipes are £0.02 per unit. Multipack crisps are £0.15 per unit. And so on. Except for wine. They don't price that per unit. Coz no one gives a shit.
10. The calorie counting continues. I can now *input* exercise to win back calories to consume on my trendy diet app. It's awesome. I burnt 50kcal walking to the pub. I burnt 345kcal coming home. I was well hot and sweaty on the return trip. Phew. I ran a bit too, coz I had some Scampi Fries.
11. Don't ask children for "a bite" of whatever they are eating. For some reason, they place it in your mouth at the wrong angle to which it was intended. Which results in you clamping down on a Pringles that actually enters *between your teeth* and nips your gum. 12. I didn't really have a satsuma.

Tuesday 8 April 2014

Today's observations 08.04.14

1. Our family are starting to create our own rituals. My parents/sister family didn't really have anything specific; we didn't have Sunday roasts, holidays or established friends to see. It's nice to note that my family are starting to have a Sunday ritual. We nurse off our hangovers, every Sunday without fail, in McGintys. It's a strategic location choice; they make tea in a pot and sell Cadburys Twirl. In addition, it's relatively close to Crown Pools car park to top up the car park should, y'know, we want to stay a bit longer to toy with having a cheeky beer.
2. Regional accents are funny. "Open that!" demanded my toddler of a Kinder Egg "open that, what?", I requested. "Open that, Pur. Lee. Urze." she said. Pur-Lee-urze? I asked my son how his Kinder Egg was faring. "Noice".  Gotta love the bumpkins.
3. I notice lots of young guys are sporting beards. I have to say, I'm rather partial to face hair. There was one guy in a doorway in Ipswich today that had a beard so full and voluptuous, that I wanted to test it's form and malleability. I wanted to probe it to see if it crackled. Like pubic hair.
4. In fact, there was so many beardy men in town today, it was like a Game of Throne set. The foul language contribute to my theory further.
5. I'm trying to get the kids to help me tidy up after them. I use a kindly form of bribery to get them to tidy away one lot of activities to make way for the next one. I think they are old enough to do this. After a couple of attempts, it's confirmed to me that they are old enough.  It's also confirmed that they just don't want to. My son, for example, was told that if he helped to tidy away a jigsaw (when I say help, I'd have been happy for him to put one solitary piece in the box), that I point out he had emptied from the box for no reason, then he could have a Kinder Egg. Kinder Eggs work well usually. However, his blank face-  void of any expression at all - told me that he wasn't even listening to me. I'd wager that as soon as I knelt poised over the scattered jigsaw puzzle and held the open jigsaw box as a gesture to fill it, he completely zoned out. You could almost see the shutters form over his brain. No amount of Ferarro plastic crap was going to tempt him into being helpful.
6. He did help a little later. The Haribo was Plan B. He filled the box with the jigsaw. He picked up the filled box to show me his achievement (and no doubt, claim his award). Unfortunately, the box had been also opened from the bottom (likely by him) so all the pieces fell back out again over his feet.
7. I saw another baby-wearer in town yesterday. She had a young baby in a ring-sling. I was embarrassed to make eye contact. I felt that we were supposed to be an alliance against the world.  I felt that the toddler strapped to my strained spine meant that we were on the same team. But that assumption made me feel like a dickhead.  And her toddler was chewing on a yoghurt bar. And mine was eating a Kinder Egg. She likely right slagged me off at her Sling Meet, which was no doubt where she was headed.
8. If a giant hand (let's say for God's for example) gathered up all the country's traffic lights with one fail swoop and held them like a giant bouquet, turned them all onto red light, and then dropped them all in Ipswich, then that would be the same as it is now.

Monday 7 April 2014

Today's observations 07.04.14

1. When you walk into a spit'n'sawdust pub with children, you get death radar glares from the regs. They are watching football. They have £60 riding on this game. They have Ramsey to score. Your kids have totally fucked over the experience. Their eyes have now no choice but to be consistently distracted from the plasma screen to your children who keep peeping at them from behind the bar stool. 2. Don't under estimate these spit'n'sawdust pubs. They have staff, and occasionally punters, that actually really like kids. 3. For parties with children in tow, the momentous and massive power of a dog in a pub is mind blowing. That dog holds the key to the success of your pint outing. That dog will, if you play your cards right and if the owner is game, make your kids entire day. 4. Until you have to say goodbye to the rather cheesed off looking dog. 5. It's a fairly mature movement, but when you have some time, check out the nutritional value of regular food stuffs. We've been had. We've been eating absolute crap for years. And it's all prettied up to look great. 6. A middle aged woman supping a pint of Guiness is *always* going to look like she would a. Be interesting and b. Be a good friend. 7. Contrary to what's socially acceptable, I do feel better with a sun tan. 8. That turn from from sobriety, but not quite squiffy, can change the world. It is at this point that you get the "flavour" (as Flanagan puts it). The FLAVOUR. It changes everything: the day's plans, perspectives, boundaries, willpower and the total set-up of the day that becomes wildly different to before you sipped that Merlot 30mins ago. It makes you want to get changed into something more "go outy". It makes you want to text people to see what they are up to. It makes you want to buy cigarettes. 9. There are so many ornaments in our local McGintys pub. I can't believe nobody has stolen them. There are mustard jars whiskey glasses, token horseshoes and metal horse things. They are totally thievable. And they are still here. 10. On closer inspection, they are all stuck down. Many of the jars have handles missing from where someone has tried to prise the ornament off the shelf and it's stuck fast, thus tearing the handle from the jar.

Sunday 6 April 2014

Today's observations 06.04.14

1. The epitaph of pain can be associated with a toddlers toe-nail and your thigh at 2:19am.
2. A half-asleep, whining toddler does tend to being out my (ashamedly) irate side; I'm not as patient as I would ordinarily choose.
3. When you look at your Smartphone in the middle of the night, it actually feels as though you have been blinded by the burning Sun's cyber rays of doom.
4. That moment when child waddles, semi conscious, into your room in the middle of the night and falls over something on the floor (scatter cushions, bra, book, iPad) and you simply cannot help but guffaw a little.
5. There isn't much that makes the world a better place than finding a £5 note tucked away somewhere in your purse.
6. There isn't much that sparks irrational annoyance than finding said £5 tucked away in your other half's wallet.
7. If there was just one website for everything, the world would be an easier place.
8. Chinese Takeaway etiquette is a funny one. Just how loud or extreme can one's extremities be (amongst family) when a seethingly hot noodle jumps of your spoon and slaps itself, sizzling, on your bare chin?
9. Motorbike noise is unseemingly and an insult to humankind.