Are They For Real?

Freecyclers that is.

I'm in Southampton as you know and I occasionally use Freecycle Southampton to get rid of good quality items we have no more need for, aka 'shizz we don't want'. I have also put a Wanted Post up once for a piano for work which was a complete debacle and ended up costing us a stack of £££ for delivery and almost cost us for removal too until Robbie the Handyman and one of the dementia residents took an axe to it in the garden.

Not our piano - there was nothing left of that....

Today I thought I'd put up a want ad for some audio books for my residents - tapes or CDs, I don't mind. Like I said yesterday, some love stories but can no longer read themselves so I thought we'd try some out. Then I thought I'd put another want ad up for a baby buggy or pram. I bought a couple of dolls from Ikea the other day that Babcia is dressing (also for my residents) and I figured a pram to put them in would be cool. I'm not expecting great things...

I decided, whilst looking at other folks' Offered and Wants, that some people have no shame and are talking the mickey with their wants, and that others are plain weird with their offers. Offered this week are: UPRIGHT HOOVER - seems to blow as well as suck; DENTED CAR DOOR FOR WELDING PRACTICE; LAMINATOR, BROKEN. Wouldn't they all just be better off in a skip? Then there is one person offering 'DENTAL FLOSSERS - open pack of 100, 90 left. Unwrapped but unused'; and also 'TAMPAX APPLICATOR TAMPONS - couldn't get on with them, 18 left'.

Is it me or is that yuck to the max and just totally wrong?? Worst of all, when I looked an hour ago there was a 'tube of cream for cracked nipples with just a bit out of it' but that seems to have mysteriously disappeared. Are these people genuine or have I stumbled upon some kind of coded messages relating to deviant behaviour? Maybe there's a swingers party at 18, Plug Street? Perhaps it's something along the lines of a 'Men Looking For Men' ad Big Man and I stumbled across in the back of the old yellow Free Ads paper years ago - someone looking for a 'BMX boy', whatever one of those might be :S. Inquiring minds want to know.....*

On the flip side, wanters are looking for: AN OLD LAPTOP WITH INTERNET AND A WORKING USB PORT; the same person is after TWO ADULT BIKES; someone wants an AIR CONDITIONER - must be in great condition; a wheel and tyre for a LDV convoy; a Petrol Lawnmower; a hover - 'a cylinder hover with good suction would be great!'; 'WARDROBES WANTED :) We are move in a new house and need wardrobes. Anyone could deliver it for me pls! I'm very happy if its okey!'; and the cryptic 'Stare gates - may boy is barwond now so need stare gats a.s.a.p please help!'. Stare gats I get, but barwond? 

You'd have to wonder how many people get what they ask for when they are looking for high value stuff. I noticed a couple of want ads for Warhammer items (if you don't know what Warhammer is then you can't have a fantasy/Goth/alien-inclined son of a certain age). Mr Charming was mad about it at one stage and even now he's away at uni I still sometimes stand, painfully, on a little twisted creature when I'm putting clean washing in his room. (And sometimes I stand on a Warhammer figure, boom-boom!!!)

 Pic from here

Warhammer is kind of like Barbie for boys - you need to buy the little men, then the army of little men, then all the tanks, animals, scenery; paint it all...it's a dos expensive hobby and they can be worth a lot of money, depending on age and rarity and how well they're painted. Mr Charming inherited a stack of original stuff from my brother Jack when he was first starting out and we'd never give any of it away. A friend of Mr Charming's who used to spend so much time at our house that we considered him our fourth son, after Mr Charming, Carb Addict and Otto the cat, recently posted a picture on Facebook of a display he's made of his Warhammer figures and Mr Charming commented that his pal 'could put a deposit on a flat with what that stuff's worth'.

This is what a flat deposit looks like......

So, do you agree that want ad posters on Freecycle are mainly chancers, looking for either high-end stuff to flog, or low-end stuff that's dirt cheap to buy anyway? Are offered ad posters trying to fob their crappy old crap onto unwary saps rather than toting it to the tip themselves (can you tell I'm still bitter about the piano, the details of which I still can't bring myself to go into two months later?) Am I too after 'summat fer nowt' as they say in the North? Do you ever use Freecycle? Ever had anything good from there or successfully palmed off dross onto somebody? Got any audio books you don't want? Just asking.........;P

* whaddya mean, the Lost Boys isn't one of your favourite films, like, ever??!!

Titter Ye Not!! Oh, Go On Then.....

I know not everyone is such a fiend for spelling and grammar as I am - Mr Charming, the English undergrad always tells me 'spelling doesn't matter Mum, people know what I mean' when I automatically edit anything from the most casual of notes to his coursework essays. I can't help myself - when I was at school in 70s and 80s Dublin, spelling really mattered. For me, kids nowadays rely on spellcheck too much which is not good, plus it can miss the context of things. I think if you read a lot, and I do, you automatically pick up good spelling and grammar. Having said that, Red never reads anything more taxing than 'LOOKS' magazine but is very literate whilst Mr Charming reads a lot yet isn't brilliant with his punctuation...he's more your 'stream of consciousness' kind of writer. Yeah, right. Big Man reads very rarely and correspondingly is not good at all at spelling - I've never let him live down the bluey he sent me from the Falklands that ended 'Sweat dreams, darling xxxx'. Oh dear. Still, he was in charge of a £300million nuclear submarine's reactor room so his inability to spell didn't do him too much harm.

Anyhow, the thing that I've seen a few times recently on other blogs, and it makes me titter each time I see it is bloggers spelling 'definitely' as 'defiantly'. Not gonna say who (and can't remember anyway!) but when it says something like...'we really enjoyed our kale last year and we'll defiantly plant it again this time' I imagine a blogger purposefully approaching her allotment, brandishing seeds in one hand, a trowel in the other and with a determined look on her face, telling the startled, codgery old bystanders 'I'm gonna plant this kale, so don't try to stop me!'

I'm easily amused.

PS. Just in case you're starting to hate me for being a total and utter spelling snob you'll be happy to know that I still cringe with mortification when I remember the time I was trying to impress a guy I fancied and was airily dismissing something or other as 'banal'. To rhyme with anal.........

Crocs Away!!!

Next week I am working in the kitchen again for another three days. I said I'd never do it again after last time because it was so exhausting and I'd had sleepless nights beforehand worrying that things were going to go wrong (they didn't btw). However, this time it will be a joint effort, me and our handyman Robbie together. Robbie was also pressganged into cooking last time and he said that he would only do it this time if we both cooked. Rather than see money wasted on agency chefs I agreed and we are planning to do some spectacular meals. The food is a bone of contention at our place with the chef on one side and the staff and management on the other. It's complicated but Robbie and I hope to instigate some changes next week.
Anyway, last time I found it very hard on my feet and legs, standing for nine hours and someone recommended Crocs as being good for this problem. Previously the idea of Crocs made me shudder....ugly, clumpy, nasty-looking....but I saw some in Primark today for £2.50 and so I decided to take the plunge. I doubt they are genuine for that price, don't you?;P

The hour I spent in Primark with Red today was the longest I've ever stuck it for - normally I am driven out after five minutes, terrified by the sheer scale of shapeless schmutter (heaven forbid any woman with breasts might want to shop there!) and hordes of teenage girls. And to be honest, who can be bothered to sift through all the dross in search of the elusive treasure? If I was shut in a room stark naked with 99% of the stuff from Primark I'd make a dress out of the carpet before I'd wear any of the clothes. I know it has the same kind of jumble sale vibe as TK Maxx but somehow Primark is so downmarket that it's demoralising.

Anyway, I showed Mr Charming my new Crocs when I got home and he was scathing in his contempt. This is a man who would be willing (if he had it) to spend over £100 on this synthetic jacket.

I told Mr Charming that Babcia could knit him one but he's not convinced...

Has one or both of us had a taste bypass this week? What do you think, and have you ever bought something you previously turned your nose up at?

The Weekend I Realised I'm Old

In 2009 the Kings of Leon were THE big thing and I really, really liked their music. I got it into my head that I wanted to see them live and since I'd always wanted to go to a music festival (never having been to a proper one when I was genuinely young. As opposed to just feeling and kidding myself I was young) I thought it'd be a wheeze to go to Reading Festival. Camping. Red was agreeable to coming with me - she was going on an all expenses paid weekend away AND seeing great bands, why wouldn't she be? - plus she had camped before. Only later did she tell me she'd never actually put a tent up before, only arrived at a campsite where the tents were already pitched (see! I've got all the camping lingo! Sadly none of the skills ;P). In a state of excitement I bought a wind-up lamp, a tent - I already had wellies! - no sleeping bags though. From reading festival-goers' websites I found out that it was better to just buy a couple of duvets from the Reading branch of Asda, wrap up in them at night then donate them at the end of the festival. I had also been assured by all the festival attendees I spoke to that there was no way I'd be the oldest there. That should have set alarm bells ringing.....never take the word of young people, particularly when it's someone (remember Pigface?) who has designs on your daughter.

We arrived and managed to pitch (there I go again, semi-pro camper-talk!!) our tent then hotfooted it into Reading where we bought a couple of duvets, a disposable BBQ, a dozen sausages and a case of cider. The place was full of lissom public school-type girls, all shining hair, long legs, family holiday in the Maldives style tans and good teeth. Need I say I hated them, whilst at the same time wishing I was like them?
The Kings of Leon were appearing on the first night of the festival (our second night there) so we got into the main stage area from about midday. I'd say we were maybe three rows from the front which wasn't bad going. Red is taller and stronger than me - my elbows are sharper though! - so she kept a tight hold. All was going fairly well...it was very hot and sunny and all the feet churned up loads of dust. Within about 30 minutes we were covered - clothes, hair, inside your boots. In fact it was so unbearable that on the next day, Saturday, Red and I went and had our hair done in Reading town centre. Big Man says I must be the only person who went to Reading Festival and had to have a wash and blow dry half way through.
After a couple of hours watching bands I'd only vaguely heard of, Deftones came on stage and a circle pit formed right next to where we were standing. Do y'all know what a circle pit is? A mosh pit? It's kind of like this;

   Except the one next to us was smaller and less good-natured :(

Mmm. Now imagine yourself being snagged by some maniac as they ran around screaming, and hurled into the centre. It might be exhilarating when you're a teenage boy (Mr Charming loves to mosh) but when you're an unsuspecting mum of three it's bloody terrifying, let me tell you. Luckily there is an etiquette at festivals...if anyone falls over they get picked up straight away, and so I was pulled up unceremoniously and was able to get back to Red. Almost unbelievably she said to me crossly 'for God's sake Mother, stay out of the mosh pit!'

Needless to say we got separated during the afternoon. Some girl pushed herself in between the two of us and there was no way I could get back to Red, and by then the heat, the dust and the sheer pressure of the crowd behind was not only getting to me physically, it was quite frightening. More circle pits were starting up, there was more pushing from behind, causing people to fall over - I was pushed over a couple more times and each time I really thought I would die, be crushed to death. Yes, you get pulled to your feet again straight away but there was no quarter given by any of the festivalgoers for the fact that I was as old as their mums - I was just another bod to be pushed past, bowled over and then yanked up again. At least youngsters are egalitarian I suppose! I pushed my way out of the crowd and spent an hour or so just walking round the market.

This is how dusty it was

Red and I had our mobiles so I knew that she'd stayed where we were. By the time the Kings of Leon came on I tried to get back to her but there was no way, so I watched their set from the middle of the crowd and we met up again at the end. We'd pitched our tent quite near the entrance to the campsite (and near the toilets....that was one of my specifications lol!) so we had a walk through the different zones to get back to our tent. I had decided that my appetite for festivals had been sated - I felt exhausted; I was bruised, covered in dust, my hair was like nothing on earth; I was disappointed that KOL had been so ill-tempered and not played any encores AND I'd been separated from Red most of the time (she was very contemptuous of the the way I'd 'let myself be pushed out by that girl'...well, excuse me - she was a head higher, young, fit and strong!) - and I was looking forward to getting back to our tent and a (for me) sedated sleep. The final straw came when two young fellas walked past us and twisted round to look at Red and I. Both had smiles on their faces (you know the kind of smile I mean....when someone's about to try their luck) but the one opposite me's face fell when he saw that I was mum-aged and not a teenaged girl too. They quickly turned around and kept on walking.

And in that moment I knew I was old.

Too old for festivals. Too old to be wearing shorts and wellies, although in my defence my legs were very brown from a Turkish holiday. Too old to be camping (sleeping on the floor? No thanks!). Too old to live on four sausages and twelve tins of cider for three days. Too old full stop.

And I still had two more days to get through........

Yessssss!!!!!

Panic over!!! I found 'Adolf, the Half-Aryan'. Just don't tell Mr Charming about the £12.50 OK, or he'll want his share lol!!!

My Ideas Notebook

One of my goals for 2012 is to update my ideas notebook regularly so I thought I'd show (and tell) you what that is exactly. When I was doing my degree we were told to always keep a book with ideas in - it could be pictures, things you'd read, ticket stubs, photos, sketches of your own...whatever inspired you to create. Some bloggers have great ideas notebooks, very artistic, experimental and unusual. I love Sue Brown's sketchbook.

This is my notebook

I started this one a few years back, 2008, originally with the idea that I would write down books I wanted to read, usually after reading a write-up in the paper. Then I progressed to things I wanted to do/see/watch, then funny articles out of the paper, strange and bizarre pictures and general things that I admired or wanted to make myself (as in I make them, not that I made for my own use). As an example, the page belowhas; Five Ways To Live Longer (including 'Leave your kettle to sit for a minute after boiling' and 'Think about sex in your lunch hour'. Hmmmm); a clipping that says thongs now account for only 13% of all undies sold; information about squashes; a little cartoon of a male shoe shop assistant wearing a gas mask whilst fitting a shoe on a woman's foot - his manager is saying to him 'A word, Mr Henshaw'. I thought it was funny anyway ;); another article about the monetary value of a housewife; advice on packing your quilt sets into one of the pillowcases 'for ease every bed-change day!' I actually started doing this and find it a good idea; and finally a notice about Adele playing at the Southampton Guildhall - the tickets were only £15. Red and I went to the gig and Adele was very nervous but totally fab and it wasn't even full!

Mis mas of all sorts of interesting stuffs!

More books, info about calories in bread and a 'Day of the Dead' nighlight

The one thing that always makes me smile when I look at it (and I DO read my notebook, often) is an article I snipped from the paper when I first started out. It was about the way girls, ie daughters seem 'sugar and spice and all things nice' but are secretly planning chaos,whilst..

'Boys, especially in their early teens, are like domesticated goats - quite friendly, if wary, utterly uncomprehending but usually compliant. You are not on their planet, but they'll tolerate your occasional visit to theirs.'

I've yet to read a more spot-on appraisal of teenage boys, Mr Charming included, yet. Does this chime with your experience of sons?

PS I've loads to stick in my book...better get on with it! 

Hallowe'en Letdowns.....:(

Well, what a letdown was Hallowe'en this year. For the first time in ages we didn't have a single trick-or-treater at the door. We don't usually have many because we live on a main road and we are the only family house for maybe six blocks but there is a little estate fairly close; there are flats with children opposite; and we had the decorations outside before school closing time so passing kids could see we were 'ready and willing'! But no, not a sniff of a wee witch, ghost or ghoulie. I'd bought plenty of sweeties and they were in a skull bowl by the door so to save myself from temptation (there were Swizzels lollies....I ♥ Swizzels lollies!!!) I emptied them all into a bag and sent Carb Addict back to his placement with them. They are having a Hallowe'en/Bonfire party there on Thursday night so the sweets will be welcome. Before that I have to snag a black and white t-shirt and some black trousers I can cut down for him because this year he is dressing up as Pugsley Addams.

Carb Addict doesn't know yet and would care even less but we have a

long tradition of dressing up in this family so he has to comply!

I like Hallowe'en but I know plenty of people who don't. I was brought up in Dublin and, because they don't 'do' Bonfire Night there Hallowe'en was, and is very popular. I had heard of it when I lived in England, probably from watching Scooby Doo or The Osmonds cartoon show, maybe even The Addams Family but in a malignant Northern city in the early 70s there was next to no chance of finding a pumpkin, let alone making a Jack-o-Lantern. I do remember nattering Babcia for a pumpkin to carve and her giving me a turnip and a spoon. She's always been a joker.
Anyway, I do know that there are more spiritual meanings to All Hallows Eve but it's a fun holiday too. When I got back to England and had my own children I started trying to make something of it. I remember the first time I threw a party - Red was maybe a scrawny ten and Mr Charming a clueless eight and they both invited friends. Everyone was dressed up to one degree or another.....I had laboured over Red's Wonder Woman outfit for days - a boned corset top, satin knickers, boots and even the famous Lasso of Truth. I seem to remember Mr Charming was wearing his trusty Robin Hood outfit (also made by me for school book day - the tunic was made from snooker table baize), quite amenably* but Red was very grumpy, asking repeatedly 'but who IS Wonder Woman? I wanted to be a cat!'
The night in question was very cold and drizzly as I led fifteen children up and down the nearest residential road to us. Not one single person gave them anything and most wouldn't open their doors, or if they did were very ungracious. What a washout!
You'd think I'd learned my lesson really, wouldn't you but I was up for it again the following year. Sadly the children weren't and locked themselves in their rooms from October 15 until November 2.
Overall Red has had the most outfits made for her but they don't usually go down too well. She really liked the Medieval Queen outfit I made, the only time I used a pattern, complete with draped crown using fruit gums for jewels. She won first prize for that at a school she didn't go to, to the barely supressed fury of the other mothers. She tolerated the Cruella deVille outfit for World Book Day (the same day Mr Charming wore his Lincoln Green-o!)

They both liked their Hallowe'en Morticia and devil outfits which were made from a thrifted woman's dress each. Mr Charming's even had a hood and a cape that you can't really see. This was a competition too and in a complete and utter travesty, neither of them won anything!!!



She didn't mind the Polish traditional costume (which was only borrowed so no fear of having to say Mum made it).

But she hated the Carmen Miranda get-up, complete with fruity head ('who is she? Who is she? Nobody's ever heard of her but you!!') and the Ice Queen ensemble ('everybody could see my underwear!')...she just said that yesterday evening in fact when we were talking about costumes. A bit of an over-reaction.

Mr Charming favours this kind of outfit these days...

I would love, love LOVE to be invited to a fancy dress party but I never have been. I would have the best costume ever....not sure what it'd be but it'd be the best! In fact I'm going to start thinking about it right now....!

My other Hallowe'en letdown was at work. None of the staff but me made any effort, despite me trimming the lounge up with decorations; making a lovely ghost cake; and carving two pumpkins to go outside once it got dark (well, Red came over and carved one of them whilst at a loose end). I even went back to work after I'd finished with two candles for the Jack-o-Lanterns that I'd forgotten to take with me in the morning.

This morning when I got to work the pumpkins were still sitting on the table, obviously unused. Was I cross?! I asked my (currently not-so lovely) colleague Staś why they didn't put the pumpkins out and he started saying 'oh, it's all American crap, it's all commercial, you're not American, English people don't have Hallowe'en' and other carrying on. I was pretty hacked off because it doesn't matter what he thinks...it was for the residents' benefit not his. We had to put the pumpkins out tonight instead, like gobshites who don't know what day it it.

He'd better watch it. His card's been marked, and not particularly by me.......

*having been dressed in a leotard to hop across the stage of the Southampton Guildhall, then as a blackberry (we got an awful lot of use out of that costume, which was made for Red's appearance in a gymnastics display) for something or other, Mr Charming welcomed any form of dressing up where he could keep his strides on. Even if they were Red's lime green leggings...



Dancing Feet, I've Got Those Dancing Feet

When she was a little girl Babcia couldn't sit still so she was sent to dance class. She did a bit of ballet but mainly tap and carried on, the star of every show, until she was 15.

 Babcia about 6 on the left. What a little dolly! Maybe 15 on the right.

She  was an excellent dancer apparently and because her mum, my Big Grandma had also danced as a child it was very much encouraged. Money (well, what little they could spare) and time was lavished on costumes which were usually homemade by Big Grandma and her mum; my great-granny, Little Grandma. Both of the costumes in the photos were made with love by the handy females of the family....clever, weren't they? Even though the family were very poor - didn't have two pennies to scratch their arses with, in the vernacular of my malignant Northern home town - money was always found for Babcia's dance classes. I guess she was a source of pride to them, winning competitions, appearing in shows and so on.....times were hard and God love 'em, they needed something. 

Fast forward fifteen years and Babcia had her own daughter (that would be li'l ole porkster me). And what was more natural than sending her to dance class? I started off at Mrs Bradley's and did Ballet, Tap and Acro, which was acrobatics and the bit I loved most - I was always upside down, doing the splits or walking on my hands and was pretty good at it too. The studio was at the top of some stairs and we always started with a kind of warm-up that entailed us doing tap, ball-change; tap, ball-change all around the room to Mr Bradley pounding out 'Walking My Baby Back Home' on the poorly tuned piano. If I ever hear that music it flings me right back to dark winter nights up those rickety stairs.

I went to a class there on a Saturday morning too and I remember a horrible incident that wouldn't happen nowadays - Health and Safety has some good points. We didn't have a barre and had to hold on to the back of a chair to do warm up, including where you kick to the front, side and back from the hip with a straight leg. One big girl (so probably about 11 to my 7 or 8) must have been kicking a bit too mulishly, the chair tipped over, she fell and her knee was dislocated. It looked horrific and the screams from her were just awful. An ambulance was called and when it arrived the paramedics had to manhandle this poor child down the stairs. I remember thinking at the time that she was making a show of herself but with hindsight I see she was just a little girl and for sure she was in agony. Strange the things you remember...

I have a second cousin who is a couple months younger than me and her mum, the aunt of Babcia, wanted Martha to dance too so consequently she followed me from dance class to dance class like a bad credit score (I never stayed anywhere for long). If I was a porkster she was a girl mountain....together we were Pinky and Perky made flesh, our chunky knees, dimpled thighs and straining leotards marking us as different from the sprightly little pixies who made up the rest of the student body. And even at 10 I had enough dignity to realise the teacher's suggestion that Martha and I appear in a duet as Tweedledee and Tweedledum in the annual county-wide Musical Festival was A Very Bad Idea.

   

Friends, I left with as much dignity as a little round ugly duckling could muster.

Undaunted I enrolled both Red AND Mr Charming in tap and ballet classes. Whilst tidying a cupboard the other day I came across Red's ballet bag with her leotard and stuff in and couldn't believe how small it was. She liked ballet ("good toes! naughty toes!") and Mr Charming tolerated tap (I found his weeny tap shoes too) though the fact that he hated ballet didn't stop him being inveigled into appearing in the Christmas Gala as a robin in a brown leotard and beak. I must find the video of that performance....! By the time Red was 6 or 7 I enrolled her in gymnastics too and within a really short space of time she was moved from a little 'for fun' class into the city squad, training for 12 hours a week. Yep, that's right, kids of 7 and 8 train for 12 hours a week in this country. The problem is, if your child shows any spark of being good at gym they're pounced on and really worked hard....I know because after three years Red had a crushed disc in her back to prove it. I think we're so desperate for sporting success in the UK that we push children too hard and not all can cope with it. Red accepted before I did that she was never going to be good enough to go far as a gymnast (I'm as guilty as all the other pushy moms out there who want something more for themselves than for their child) and gave it up. I don't need to tell you either that Mr Charming is NOT Gene Kelly in-waiting!

Still, the family love affair with dancing continues. Whilst at Babcia's at the weekend my sister-in-law came to visit with my niece and nephew, Lili and Little Baby Jack. Although she doesn't yet go to dance class she loves to try on the tap shoes Babcia bought her and do a routine. This time Babcia put her tappers on too!!!

Although it looks false that is actually Babcia's real leg -

she asked me to make sure I pointed that out

Putting on the shoes seemed to turn Lili into a whirling dervish - a kind of tiny tapping tornado. She's just four and has an amazing imagination...here she is in her magic shoes that won't stop dancing once you put them on (and no, she hasn't seen The Red Shoes). 



I only wish I could show you a second film with Lili's face in it....her expressions are an absolute scream, she's putting everything she has into it - confusion, terror, disbelief, exhaustion - I'd forgotten how comical little children can be! But I promised her mum I'd keep her identity a secret. Until she appears on 'You've Been Framed!' that is.

Something tells me this family's dancing days are far from over :)





Toodle-oo For Now, Mr Charming!

Oh my word, writing that title took me back to my childhood when I was a fan of books such as:

I was such a massive Enid fan...still am, secretly. In fact I might just make a resolution on 43things.com to re-read all my favourite series - Malory Towers; the Five Find-Outers (my special favourites); St. Clare's; the Faraway Tree; the Wishing Chair; Secret Seven and Famous Five. I read on The Enid Blyton Society's website that she wrote 186 novels alone..not counting character books (eg Noddy, Naughty Amelia Jane etc), short stories, education books and recreation books. Talk about prolific!! However, that's another post, maybe.

Today I battled through the beach-seeking missiles heading towards Bournemouth, Poole and Weymouth to take Mr Charming back to uni after his five-month extended lie-in, aka the summer break. The AA website gave a time of 3 1/2 hours; the satnav 4 1/4, but thanks to the sand-hungry throngs it took over 5 hours - Southampton to Falmouth is a long way! Still, the weather was heavenly and the views brought home to me exactly what we have here that brings tourists to our shores. At its best England is the most beautiful country on earth and today Hampshire, Dorset, Devon and Cornwall were definitely showing off. The sky wasn't the vibrant turquoise you find in the Med; more a pale 'Congratulations! It's a Boy' blue, moving through duck-egg with a hint of Argentina football shirt. The fields were laid before us in a patchwork of greens, mustards, browns and yellows and the distant hills ranged from rocky outcrops of granite and green to palest lilacy-grey. And then, not far from Truro we suddenly saw a lake or maybe a reservoir, just plopped in the middle of the fields like a shimmering blue jewel, all the more beautiful for being so unexpected.

Not my photo but trust me, it looked like this!

Along the way, taking advantage of the weather were numerous cars with their roofs down, the occupants (without exception middle-aged couples or lone, midlife crisis-type men) wearing expressions that were a mixture of smugness and embarrassment - we're not an ostentatious nation and let's face it, a VW Golf on the A30 isn't quite a '56 Thunderbird on Route 66. They all looked extremely windblown and not especially comfortable to me but I appreciate that it's important to get your value out of a convertible on the few days a year when it's hot enough to do so....there are plenty of days to come when they'll be scraping the ice off the windscreen and complaining that the heater's a pig that takes ages to warm up. So I think I can allow them their day in the sun....

It was lovely to spend time with Mr Charming too. The conversation was inconsequential, full of 'do you remember?' moments. He didn't remember the time I saw a strange hamster at the top of our stairs that had disappeared by the time I got up there. It might have been a guinea pig, but the odd thing was we didn't own either. We talked about the time baby Carb Addict's backside exploded in a tsunami of noxious sage-coloured slime whilst we were on a riverboat shuffle at EuroDisney. With my usual lack of foresight I had neither spare nappy nor change of clothes for either of us with me, resulting in our being circumvented by trippers of all nationalities for the rest of the day. On the same holiday we had to abandon our flimsy McLaren pushchair at the Arc de Triomphe when it collapsed beyond repair and spent the day joking that the French police might blow it up in a controlled explosion in case it was a bomb aimed at the Pope, who was visiting Paris. Mr Charming attempted to explain to me the finer points of online, cult film critique websites with special reference to the films of Jeremy Irons and the Lord Of The Rings trilogy, whilst every so often I ran feverishly through a list of Important Things he should have packed. We stopped at a little shop to get a drink and were served by a young man so perky he wouldn't have been out of place in Erinsborough. Mr Charming, for reasons best known to himself, was wearing a pair of these;

on top of his head. The bumptious young man, all sincerity, shiny face and deck shoes said 'Cool goggles. Are you a welder?'. Mr Charming gave that chap a look of such loathing and only his innate...charmingness, I suppose, stopped him from thrashing the assistant to within an inch of his life with a copy of Dorset Life magazine. He will never know how close he came to death by newsprint. 

After ages we finally got to the flat which I've got to say is an improvement on the place Red shared in Lewisham. Very impressive in fact - they even have a dishwasher! And the view from their window is fantastic. It's on a fairly narrow street and the block is kind of built into the side of a hill, making it seem as if they have the basement when it's actually the ground floor. Tesco is close, as is the beach  and the town centre. The halls Mr Charming was in last year were on a kind of promontory and an icy wind blew in from Newfoundland October to March. At least he'll be warm now. His two housemates seemed very nice though not at all what I expected. Luke is small and fey with bleached hair and was prancing around with excitement about the kitchen appliances whilst Joe has scarlet hair and a broad Manc accent. They all met in halls last year so presumably know enough about each other to know they'll get on okay. Mr Charming will be home again on November 17 but I'll be on the plane to Mexico that day (if I remember lol!!) so I won't see him until Christmas now. Sob sob sigh!

Pic from here

I'd like to say the journey home was quicker but it was far, far worse....oceans of cars crawling along, in the dark, and no matter how far I progressed my ETA, according to the satnav was always half an hour. When I finally got in at 9 I was fit to be tied. Red had cooked dinner but I didn't realise she'd saved me some until I'd eaten four squares of Chocolate Coca Cola Cake. Oh well. Tomorrow is another day....

When I texted Babcia to let her know I'd got home from Fal safely she replied 'I can sleep easier now!', proving that mums never stop worrying about their children. I think Mr Charming's gonna be okay....I can sleep easier tonight too.

He'll always be my sweet baby boy....!

The Moon's A (Square) Balloon

Red is looking for a job so that she can raise money to go back to London. Obviously she is living at home rent-free. Mr Charming came home from uni at the end of May with some of his loan left over and has, according to a very disgruntled Big Man, 'slept in for two months'. But now the loan is gone so Mr Charming too needs a job. I find this particularly irksome because at the end of June I noticed that a local leisure centre was looking for lifeguards. The ad said that it wasn't a problem if applicants didn't have the NPLQ (National Pool Lifeguard Qualification) because they would be running a special course on July 15 which would result in qualified lifeguard status. Excellent!!! Mr Charming IS indeed a qualified lifeguard and even though his has lapsed (it needs to be retaken every two years I think), no problemo....he could requalify through the job.



Except he refused to go.

Had money left, didn't need a job, blah blah blah. He even got pretty shirty when I tried to press him on it so I decided he could do what he liked, knowing that he would soon be very sorry.

Last week came the day when the loan was spent and Mr Charming was indeed very sorry. Red had already told me that she didn't care what she did to earn money 'so I can pay you back Mum'. Hmmmmm. Each morning from work I texted to Red and Mr Charming, telling them to get up and look for work by checking the Jobcentre website and each day when I got home they both told me there were no suitable jobs. On Friday I looked myself and straight away found them both openings for the following night at a big pub in town, the Square Balloon. Red has worked as a barmaid before, at the local Irish Club which is run by Mr Charming's best friend's dad (we're big on connections and nepotism in this family). And Mr Charming could collect glasses.

On the Saturday night Red and Mr Charming worked from 8pm to 2am for nothing. No money. Zilch. It's called a trial shift apparently and they both hated it. Mr Charming said that he would rather kill himself than work there again and Red agreed it was pretty awful but that she'd go back if nothing else came up. And at least she made £3.70 in tips.

Yesterday Mr Charming got a cheque for £306 that was his refunded deposit from halls so he has decided that he doesn't need a job now after all, though how long he thinks that will last him I don't know, given that he won't get any more loan until September at the earliest. So this evening when the man from the Square Balloon rang up to offer him work for tomorrow night he turned it down. And it sounds like he's turned it down on Red's behalf too. The manager asked whether she would be available and Mr Charming was very non-commital....the manager didn't call Red so it looks like that's a dead-end.

But tomorrow Red is going to an agency in town about a temporary job as a hospital porter at the General (odd choice I know....maybe she really WILL do anything?) and I said that she should call into the pub whilst she's out though I'd class her response to my suggestion as ambivalent.

I've had to conclude that I have two unmotivated, unwilling and idle people on my hands. How come I can find jobs for them just like that (clicks fingers) but there's never anything suitable when they look? I totally adore all my kids but sometimes they make it very hard. On the minus side they lie in bed, won't do any chores without a lot of nagging, and stopped thinking I was the Oracle of All Knowledge long ago. On the plus side they are pretty frugal, and can live quite happily on packets of Monster Munch and tins of Kopparberg.

The next few months should be interesting.

PS Big Man was talking to his sister Sophie this evening on the phone and I heard him complaining about me using our Rainy Day Fund to pay Red's rent. And, thank you Sophie, she told him that 'your kids ALWAYS come first'. Let's hope he thinks about that a bit..... 





The One With The Bitten Face

I always feel a mixture of sadness and relief when Babcia goes home after a visit - sadness, obviously because she's my mum, I don't see her very often, and she lives a long way away (in our malignant Northern hometown as you know). But relief because she and I usually end up spending more than we should when we're together and neither of us can really afford it. Well naturally....she's a pensioner and I'm trying very hard to live a frugal life. We had a great visit though - lots of chat, lots of laughs, LOTS of charity shopping (which I'll show you next time); Mr Charming is home from uni, Red came back from London specially to see her babcia and Carb Addict had the weekend here. Big Man spent rather a lot of time in his room to escape the yacking from all of us. It's so nice to have three generations together but such a shame it doesn't happen very often :(
Anyway, Babcia made it home without any trouble this time, which is always good bearing in mind the palaver last time...

So, now we have one day before the house is full of children once again. Carb Addict is home for the weekend tomorrow and on Saturday we have hired a van to collect Red and all her worldly goods from Lewisham then bring her back here. Her plan is to stay at home for 'a month or so', get some work and make some money, then return to London and a new flat (that she hasn't attempted to look for, btw) and hopefully get a job working with people with autism. I'm hoping against hope that it all works out but I have a feeling that things may not go entirely to plan, as they have a habit of doing in this household. Mr Charming of course is already home and is also threatening to get a job since he is down to his last £100. And there was me fretting about having an empty nest - they're never off the doorstep.....!

So although there is lots to blog about I'm gonna make this a short one because I am at work at 8:00 tomorrow - extra hours to try and replenish the coffers. It's a pity I have to go out at all though because not only has some sort of insect bitten me on the face, leaving me with two hideous, hard blistery things near my lip (which are getting worse with every passing day), but when I woke up this morning I had a golfball-sized sore lump in my neck. And indeed still have. My lovely nurse colleague Kasia had a feel, asked if it was painful and when I said that it is, said 'is okay, is nothing. But see doctor'. And luckily the doctor agreed! An infected saliva gland in case you're interested. Or possibly a stone in it. We shall see. Apparently lots of gland lumps and swellings are due to being run down or to stress.
Now why would I be stressed?!

What A Load Of Rubbish!

Unless you live on the stretch of the South Coast covered by 'South Today' you won't be aware that here in Southampton the dustmen have been on strike for weeks. Last Friday's local paper told us that the union covering dustmen has a 'war chest' of twenty million pounds, enabling the strike to carry on indefinitely. The strange thing is, the paper says that there will be another strike starting, as if they go back to work then stop again, but we haven't had our regular bins emptied for about six weeks now. The recycling bins were emptied maybe three weeks ago but who cares about that? We need the general, stinky rubbish clearing. The street cleaners are also on strike and it's beginning to get pretty ropey around here.

 Southampton city centre

We are finding it reasonably difficult even though we have four bins, two general and two recycling. We didn't buy extra bins but we live on a main road and years ago we came down one Sunday morning to find, first a wheelie bin in the front garden followed by a recycling bin on top of the car a few months later. We assumed drunks'd pushed them from outside houses further up the road and abandoned them at ours - what larks! Obviously we kept them and it's a jolly good job we did too! But if it's getting bad for us it must be worse for people who don't have a waste disposal system. When we had our new kitchen put in years ago we'd just come back from a villa in Florida and I insisted on having a 'garbage gobbler'. Thank goodness I did - all the food waste goes straight down the drain. Even so we have (or did have until this evening when Big Man, Mr Charming and Carb Addict burned them in the brazier) four black sacks full of rubbish too. It was warm today, they were getting smelly, there's MILLIONS of fat, lazy flies around.......what can I say, I live with pyromaniacs. And the smell from the fire was so foul that I'm surprised nobody called the police.

Student ghetto!!!

There's a student enclave near us and each year when they move out of their rented houses they tend to throw incredible amounts of 'stuff' out....kitchen utensils, clothing, bits of furniture, unopened packets of food...must be £000's of stuff. The universities set up a scheme a couple years back where the students could leave anything decent and reusuable outside their houses on a particular day at the end of term and it would get collected - it's still ongoing  - but it's always a mess at this time of year. Now it's just dreadful! Walking through there the other day I could see bags of unopened pasta, noodles, crackers; a pair of practically unused Ugg boots; a TV - I was so tempted to scrag some items but oh, the indignity of being seen and labelled as a middle-aged pikey deterred me. It's a throwaway society we live in and no mistake.

More student house trash round the corner from me :(

It really shows what dirty, lazy pigs people can be when you see the city centre littered with McDonalds' bags and wrappers, empty pop bottles and bits of paper - did their parents never tell them not to be a litterbug? I always made sure my kids used a rubbish bin and even Carb Addict, my special boy knows to put his rubbish in a bin, or failing that his pocket until he gets home. I think McDonalds should have staff out on the streets picking up their litter, if nobody else's. In fact I think all businesses should be responsible for sweeping and tidying outside their own establishment as a matter of course, not just when there's a strike on. Isn't that what they do in other countries?

Across the road from me...yuk

We have lost all civic pride in this country!!!!!

Here endeth the rant.

PS  I'm not sure how much blogging I'll be able to do from today because I'm having a visitor for a week, one who talks even more than I do AND expects me to answer. Yes, Babcia is coming to visit.

If she doesn't miss the coach, obviously.

My New Toy and a Sweet Little Boy

I don't often show things I've bought whilst charity shopping (once, if I remember right) and this sweet little boy wasn't from a charity shop anyway, but from the car boot nirvana we in So'ton call Allington Lane. Cost - 50p.

He's about 6" high and is moulded all the way round...didn't photograph the back though, sorry. There's no maker's mark, it just says 'Foreign' underneath and he's hollow but I'm not sure what you would put inside to be completely honest. Flowers probably, but I think that'd look a bit odd personally. Maybe the remains of a tin of beans in the fridge like in the Heinz advert.  The painting of his skin is really delicate but with time his lips and inner eyes have chipped and almost come off...it wouldn't be too hard to repair with a bit of....mmm, probably enamel paint I'd say. Like boys painted their Stukas with back in the day.

Totally remedy-able worn-off pupils. 

How old are we thinking he might be? I'm saying 50s. Might he have cost 10/- new?

My new toy is something I've been after for a little while and is a useful tool (or so I told Big Man when he said 'don't start getting obsessive about this now!'). It's an OWL electricity monitor. I kept looking on eBay for one but got outbid a couple times; however driving to Wales we were listening to a talk-in about power price rises and someone was saying they had a monitor, which put the idea back in my head. Prices on eBay for BIN are generally anything up to £35 so when someone put this one on at £5 I pounced!!!

If you don't know what these little yokes do, you attach one part of it to the cable between your fuse box and electricity meter and it wirelessly sends data to this bit of the equipment - this shows either how much electricity you are using or what value you are using, depending what you want to see. Obviously you need to put in the price per kilowatt hour. I think it's going to give a very good 'rough' figure but because we have three different prices on our tariff I had to use an average so it won't be exact. In about 24 hours we used £2.25 (ish) worth of electricity. Hopefully it will show us what uses the most electricity, though I'm pretty sure it would be the tumble dryer, were I using it. The kids need training...this morning when I got up at 10:15 I discovered that Mr Charming's bedroom light had been left on since he and Big Man went out at 6:00. Smack hand Mr Charming!!!!

A Tale Of Two Kiddies

Mr Charming has, in the last couple of days, paid his first month's rent cheque for the flat he is sharing during his second year at uni in Cornwall. Today he sent me a text to let me know he got an essay back and his mark was 7% off a First.

Red texted me today and said that the landlord has sent an eviction notice to her and her four housemates. In the last couple of days she has decided that she is going to drop out of her Psychology degree at the end of this, her second year, and 'find a job'.

Somebody please tell me everything's gonna work out fine!!

A Big Job Jobbed

Everybody seems to have had a lovely relaxing Easter and Bank Holiday but me.

I had to work on Friday, work on Monday and on Saturday I worked on the last leg of my big job. I spent three days counting and interviewing pedestrians on a desolate railway path with only William from Malawi for company. As I am (probably) old enough to be his mother we had very little to say to each other. Obviously I was the underling and I felt the force of his disapproval every time he and not I hopped along to ask an unwary passer-by whether they had time to 'answer a few questions about their journey'. Very few people passed our way during the 12 hours we spent by the shunting yard (yes, THREE LOTS of 12 hours!) and most of those that did were either speeding by on bikes; non-English speakers; drunk; or just plain nutty. Some fell into more than one category.

 Excited crowds flock to sample Keshling's interviewing technique!

Needless to say it was tear-inducingly tedious and for £78 a day I won't be doing it again in a hurry. It's all money in the bank, or rather off the credit cards though so it was worth doing I suppose.

One thing happened towards the late afternoon that made me feel a bit bad, and still does now just thinking about it. William and I had our bags by the metal uprights of the overpass and two youths came walking along - shirts off, very happy and singing, maybe a bit tipsy. I had been pacing up and down and wasn't near the bags, whilst William had managed to snare a pedestrian to quiz. As they neared our stuff I began to walk towards them - I'll admit it, I wasn't worried what happened to William's bag but mine had a copy of Portal 2 in it that I'd just spent £40 on for Mr Charming's birthday. One of the boys looked as if he was going towards our bags then he looked up and saw me strolling along in what I hoped was a casual manner. He said to his friend 'Look, she thinks we're gonna nick their bags!'. What could I say? I did think they were going to steal our bags. I just laughed and said 'Yep, you saw right through me!' They laughed too but I felt really bad afterwards, and still do now when I think about it.

Would I have acted that way had it been two silly girls walking along? I'm not sure, probably not....I wouldn't feel frightened to take a girl on if I had to. But it was quite deserted with no residential area nearby, in a pretty downbeat neighbourhood. I didn't feel particularly personally threatened by the boys, but you never know. I just think I judged them harshly and that I was wrong to do so. I wouldn't like to think that another middle-aged woman thought my Mr Charming was going to steal her bag - I know that he wouldn't confront her like the lad did me, but he would feel embarrassed and angry. 

Would anybody else feel like I did?

PS I've applied for 2012 tickets this evening. If I get them it'll cost £200, which I appreciate isn't very frugal. BUT! The Olympics probably won't be held in my own country again in my lifetime so I'd be a sad sack if I didn't at least try for some. That's my opinion anyway. BTW, I have some exciting news at the end of the week!!!

A Good Walk Spoiled! Not Really...

Hasn't the weather been heavenly the last few days? So mild, warm even. It's just as well as I have started my Census Job....ta daa!!! It means the walking the streets is really pleasant and not at all onerous. I wasn't meant to start until this Monday coming but was asked if I could do some Early Collecting in a different area to the one I'd applied for so I impetuously said that I would. Not that I regret it really - I like to get things under way. The new area is very student-heavy and I was worried that I might encounter rebellion or impudence or even contempt but I was so wrong. My job currently entails visiting properties to find out whether the census form has been delivered to the property and also if the household will be completing the form. I'm not sure how these properties were flagged, or why - possibly because they're all registered with the council as HMOs maybe. Anyway, the students so far have been polite, sweet and well-mannered - a real credit to their parents and themselves. It was funny to hear the way the boys would come hurtling down the stairs to answer the door, leaping down the last few and arriving breathless - that's just exactly how Mr Charming (who is home for a month tomorrow - YAY!!!!!!!! There'll be a whole lotta baking going on when I get home from the Dragon's Den tomorrow!) bounds around. When he's not sleeping 'til 3pm.

Last night my Co-ordinator gave me a rush job that entailed checking on properties that had their census forms returned as undeliverable by the Royal Mail. When I saw that a block of flats was on my list I was a bit worried but I discovered when I got there that it was old university halls of residence boarded up awaiting demolition so I didn't need to do anything. It was pretty dark by the time I'd checked all of the properties on my list  - several were blocks that had the forms for #13 returned which shows superstition is alive and well in the 21st century. Not that I'd want to live at number 13 myself...
Big Man is on leave so volunteered to drive me round my route and I was pleased that I'd agreed by the time I'd finished. It was dark and almost deserted and all I could think of was the census taker whose liver Hannibal the Cannibal ate with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.......eeeeek!!!

Garden Chaos

Firstly, thanks to my lovely blogging pals for your kind words and support re Mr Charming. I think he would curl up and die if he knew I'd said anything to anyone but but that's what mums do, right? And their pals, real or virtual help them out, so thanks again. The latest is he has already approached a nearby uni about transferring (eek, the one time in his life he doesn't procrastinate and it's something I don't want him to do!!) and they've said to wait until about May. Red says it's just as well he didn't know he could apply to transfer after just one term or he'd be home now. She is going to speak to him and I know Babcia will. I'll keep you informed.

This is my garden at the moment. JUST KIDDING!!! This is my garden.

The courtyard at the side of the house, where cars can, in theory, be parked securely. The pile of stuff near the gates is for a fire (all three of the men in my household are pyromaniacs).

Pretty awful I think you'd agree. Although I like the idea of having a beautiful garden in theory, I'm not so keen on all the work that goes into it. We did make a massive effort one year and it looked pretty good - Big Man made the swing set at the end of the garden himself and Carb Addict still goes on it almost every day, whatever the weather. Big Man also spent a heap of time and money on the pond in pic 3 - he was desperate for a pond and eventually dug one; bought all the equipment, including an expensive pump, and eventually had about 12 koi and other fish in there that he absolutely cherished. One day the pump stopped working and Big Man decided that the pond had to be drained, so he put the fish into a big plastic crate, all together (I bet you can almost guess what's coming). The crate was too small and to cut a long story short, all but two of the fish died. Cue much weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. So he totally lost interest, hence the sad excuse for a pond you see now. I think I might have to do something about it myself, come the warmer weather.
Some people, like my lovely mum Babcia, have a green thumb. I do not. Babcia has a kind of cottage garden where she has raised little bushes and twigs she bought for a pound at the car boot sale, into giant trees and shrubs. But she puts a lot of time and effort into her garden. I think that's the secret. My in-laws Babs and Patsy also have a beautiful garden (including a pond, btw!).

Maybe it's a getting older thing? Not so long I would have curled my lip at the thought of such a crashingly boring idea as gardening. Now I think how very relaxing it would be to sit out in the sun on a lounger with a cool glass of something. Is it the impossible dream? I don't think so. I am resolving to try and beat my garden into some sort of shape this Spring - watch this space!!!