Eleanor had a day home from school yesterday. Feeling very lethargic and unwell she managed to convince me that a day at home to rest and a recover was in order. I get days like that too. Not ill or unwell, but just drained and out of energy and in need of a day of nothing. I understood where she was coming from. She was hard to wake, tearful and lacking motivation to do anything, whereas usually she's up and bustling around, eager to get to school and see her friends.
But as soon as she's down, she's up again. Within 3 hours of being home, around lunchtime, she mustered up enough energy to eat her numberetti (spaghetti hoops made with numbers - I'm moving on from hoops as I deem numbers more fun). But not only was numberetti cheering Eleanor up, it turned out to be a great cure for Monkey.
Monkey is Sam's cuddly toy bought from Monkey World on holiday this year. I enquired as to why Monkey was on the table covered in toilet roll, only to discover that Eleanor was his vet and Sam, the very concerned owner, had brought him to her for an operation. Further investigations led to finding out that Monkey had suffered a very severe heart attack earlier that day and only had two hours to live. But no matter how critical Monkey's condition was, he was well enough to hold on to the last portion of his life, while vet and owner stopped for numberetti.
Toilet paper turned out to be bandages. At this point I'm trying so hard to stifle the laughter and show genuine concern for Monkey's plight only to nearly bust a gut holding in my giggles when the answer to my question, 'Why does Monkey have a hairband round his mouth?', was met with the very dry tutted response from Eleanor of, 'It will stop him screaming when I put the injection in'.
Monkey's op was successful. He went to bed last night with a headache. It think that's the least of his worries.
Tuesday, 29 September 2009
Monday, 21 September 2009
Down to Earth
I had this published in our staff magazine at work last year and thought I'd share....
Down To Earth
I often wonder as a child of the 1970s, whether I was born in the wrong decade as I increasingly find myself envying various aspects of the 1940s and 1950s way of life. Whilst I wouldn’t go anywhere near wishing I was able to demonstrate my aptitude at obtaining all the attributes of the perfect woman of that era I do feel a sympathetic leaning towards the more self-sufficient way of life they embraced.
But I fear that woman’s quest for perpetual emancipation and continual celebration of the sacrifice of our suffragette sisters has left me feeling a bit of an odd one out in this day of materialistic pleasure and ‘ready to go’ society.
You see, I simply enjoy ‘the old ways’ and trying to fit them in symbiotically with modern life … well, you’d be forgiven for thinking it was nigh on impossible.
But…. I’ve found it isn’t. I’ve found I can perform the juggling act of a full time job, having children and a home to look after and whilst doing this the modern way, I can still fit in the ‘grandmotherly’ skills, both for my own enjoyment and also to the benefit of my family.
My latest quest in this search for finding the Earth Mother in me and the bid to temporarily escape from the fast track of consumerism is the renting of my allotment plot. If you’d have asked me five years ago if I would consider such an idea I’d have laughed behind my pre-packed, styrofoamed, ripe’n’ready, perfectly rounded EU peaches. No! no! no! Why go to all that bother? Digging, weeding, sweating and spending time with doddery old pensioners when I can get it all at Sainsbury’s on a Friday night! No mud, no creepy crawlies, no constant fight against disease and blight – just perfect vegetables and fruit, off the shelf, whenever ‘I, The Consumer’ demand it.
But now, ‘I, The Consumer’ feel uncomfortable with that way of thinking. With an ever increasing demand on the planet’s resources, the need to recycle, reuse and minimise waste, I find myself becoming more and more ‘green’, as the months go by. ‘I, The Consumer’ who didn’t relish the thought of plodding in the mud actually enjoy donning my wellies and digging up the weeds. ‘I, The Consumer’, who thought allotments were social clubs for pensioners, thoroughly enjoy chatting to 83 year old Tony on plot 52 and middle-aged Emma on plot 50, as well as the mother of the boy in my daughter’s class at school and the other two families with children the same age as my own.
And the pure joy and achievement at pulling up a lettuce, knowing I beat the slugs to it, watching the leeks thicken at the stem as they stand like soldiers on parade, smelling the waft of onions from the ground as I hoe between the rows and seeing the flowers on the potatoes before they wither and ready themselves for harvest…. well, give me that feeling over queuing at Sainsbury’s on a Friday night, anytime.
Down To Earth
I often wonder as a child of the 1970s, whether I was born in the wrong decade as I increasingly find myself envying various aspects of the 1940s and 1950s way of life. Whilst I wouldn’t go anywhere near wishing I was able to demonstrate my aptitude at obtaining all the attributes of the perfect woman of that era I do feel a sympathetic leaning towards the more self-sufficient way of life they embraced.
But I fear that woman’s quest for perpetual emancipation and continual celebration of the sacrifice of our suffragette sisters has left me feeling a bit of an odd one out in this day of materialistic pleasure and ‘ready to go’ society.
You see, I simply enjoy ‘the old ways’ and trying to fit them in symbiotically with modern life … well, you’d be forgiven for thinking it was nigh on impossible.
But…. I’ve found it isn’t. I’ve found I can perform the juggling act of a full time job, having children and a home to look after and whilst doing this the modern way, I can still fit in the ‘grandmotherly’ skills, both for my own enjoyment and also to the benefit of my family.
My latest quest in this search for finding the Earth Mother in me and the bid to temporarily escape from the fast track of consumerism is the renting of my allotment plot. If you’d have asked me five years ago if I would consider such an idea I’d have laughed behind my pre-packed, styrofoamed, ripe’n’ready, perfectly rounded EU peaches. No! no! no! Why go to all that bother? Digging, weeding, sweating and spending time with doddery old pensioners when I can get it all at Sainsbury’s on a Friday night! No mud, no creepy crawlies, no constant fight against disease and blight – just perfect vegetables and fruit, off the shelf, whenever ‘I, The Consumer’ demand it.
But now, ‘I, The Consumer’ feel uncomfortable with that way of thinking. With an ever increasing demand on the planet’s resources, the need to recycle, reuse and minimise waste, I find myself becoming more and more ‘green’, as the months go by. ‘I, The Consumer’ who didn’t relish the thought of plodding in the mud actually enjoy donning my wellies and digging up the weeds. ‘I, The Consumer’, who thought allotments were social clubs for pensioners, thoroughly enjoy chatting to 83 year old Tony on plot 52 and middle-aged Emma on plot 50, as well as the mother of the boy in my daughter’s class at school and the other two families with children the same age as my own.
And the pure joy and achievement at pulling up a lettuce, knowing I beat the slugs to it, watching the leeks thicken at the stem as they stand like soldiers on parade, smelling the waft of onions from the ground as I hoe between the rows and seeing the flowers on the potatoes before they wither and ready themselves for harvest…. well, give me that feeling over queuing at Sainsbury’s on a Friday night, anytime.
Tuesday, 15 September 2009
The Magic Porridge Pot of Questions
AKA - Sam.
We've been travelling in to my home town by train for a little while now as we're down to one car. I dreaded the inconvenience of having to leave the house an hour early to drop the girls at school club, trek onto the station, get two trains and then trek to work, but it's actually been a really fun time for me.
I get to spend a little time with Sam in the mornings this way and we talk more than we did when I drove in. Or rather he talks and I listen. Or rather he asks a million questions and I end up having to find quick fire satisfactory answers before the next inquisition comes.
Today's offering included (in the space of just 20 minutes).
1. There are two train tracks, so why can't the inside tracks of both of them hold a third train?
2. What are the pebbles for on the track?
3. How do you know what direction the tracks are going?
4. Are these people on the train your friends?
5. Why aren't we going to London?
6. Can trains fly?
7. If the train crashes, does a police train come up the other track with lights and sirens?
If you're ever in need of a good conversation, you can be sure Sam will provide plenty of topic material. If only I could jump inside that little head - just for a day.
We've been travelling in to my home town by train for a little while now as we're down to one car. I dreaded the inconvenience of having to leave the house an hour early to drop the girls at school club, trek onto the station, get two trains and then trek to work, but it's actually been a really fun time for me.
I get to spend a little time with Sam in the mornings this way and we talk more than we did when I drove in. Or rather he talks and I listen. Or rather he asks a million questions and I end up having to find quick fire satisfactory answers before the next inquisition comes.
Today's offering included (in the space of just 20 minutes).
1. There are two train tracks, so why can't the inside tracks of both of them hold a third train?
2. What are the pebbles for on the track?
3. How do you know what direction the tracks are going?
4. Are these people on the train your friends?
5. Why aren't we going to London?
6. Can trains fly?
7. If the train crashes, does a police train come up the other track with lights and sirens?
If you're ever in need of a good conversation, you can be sure Sam will provide plenty of topic material. If only I could jump inside that little head - just for a day.
Wednesday, 9 September 2009
The Whirlwind of Summer
I must admit to opening up this site a few times over the Summer Holidays, only to close it down again as I've had no desire to post.
I've got masses of pictures of days on the beach, birthdays, crafts etc that the children have taken part in, but at the end of an exhausting day out with them, or an exhausting day in, the desire to post left me.
I felt a little guilty at one point for neglecting my site, but then that guilt turned to satisfaction as I realised that my time was spent with my children doing the fun stuff.
So, over the next few days I will post about what we got up to and load in some pictures. It will be a nice way for me to recap the six weeks the children have been home and to remind myself what a great little bunch of people I share my life with and the fun we can have together.
I've got masses of pictures of days on the beach, birthdays, crafts etc that the children have taken part in, but at the end of an exhausting day out with them, or an exhausting day in, the desire to post left me.
I felt a little guilty at one point for neglecting my site, but then that guilt turned to satisfaction as I realised that my time was spent with my children doing the fun stuff.
So, over the next few days I will post about what we got up to and load in some pictures. It will be a nice way for me to recap the six weeks the children have been home and to remind myself what a great little bunch of people I share my life with and the fun we can have together.
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