Ms Un-Perky of Southampton Writes........

"...how old does one need to be before one truly understands that in life there is no such thing as reciprocation?

I first had an inkling of this many years ago when, as a child our family took a short holiday at Butlins in Filey, Yorkshire. We often took one of these unexpected and at very short notice holidays and unlike other families we usually went back 'home' to a different house...often in another country!! It was most unenjoyable for several reasons....I stepped out of a swingboat on the side that didn't have a step down and fell to the ground, knocking out a front tooth and smashing my nose in - I was a chubby child and the poor soul who carried me back to our chalet was in greater need of medical attention than I when we finally got there; whilst watching an instructor and a Redcoat having a play fight on a large trampoline the Redcoat bounced off on top of me and almost knocked me out. But as he explained, it was really my own fault for standing with all the other children who, like me were waiting for their trampoline lesson; my younger sister was banished from the creche for constantly crying; the unending rain; falling into the freezing outdoor pool fully clothed; my father was angry and antsy because there wasn't a betting shop on site; failing to win the Lovely Mother and Daughter Competition (also, inevitably, my fault); and I discovered that people are not always as open-hearted to you as you may be to them. Every afternoon there was entertainment of some kind in the theatre put on by the holidaymakers usually - talent contests, Glamorous Granny contests, that kind of thing. It was the 70s. And the optimum seat for the best view, the one that all the children tried to get was front row, right side on the aisle. One day I was lucky enough to nab this seat early and was waiting with anticipation for the Knobbly Knees event, or somesuch extravaganza. A girl that I had become fairly friendly with came sidling along and asked whether she could share the seat with me - not an easy task since, as I mentioned earlier, I had more chins than a Chinese phonebook. However I agreed and we spent a most uncomfortable couple of hours crammed into a theatre seat. I didn't mind - I had a friend.
The next day I was a little later getting to the the theatre and my friend was in the prime seat, next to her family. I went up to her and asked if we could share the seat with her, since that's what we'd done yesterday. My friend scowled at me and her mother leaned over and told me to 'clear off', leaving me in no doubt that I was as welcome as a fart in a sleeping bag (excuse my French!) therefore giving me my first real lesson in the perfidy of people.
So my question is, why am I still surprised and saddened when my nearest and dearest lack reciprocation? Last night I was unwell enough to take to my bed at 7pm. The dishes from dinner were still in the sink this morning (which goes against all Flylady principles, not that I'd expect my husband and daughter to know that!) when I got up. Nobody had the decency to do a little something, ie load and start the dishwasher for me when I do so much for them whether they are ill or not. When will I ever learn that doing nice things for people does not guarantee that they will help you out by doing nice things for you? In other words, when will I stop being a well-used doormat?
I await your response eagerly."

'Ms Un-Perky of Southampton'

PS  The mug belongs to Red, the least likely jolly hospital porter and volunteer-with-disadvantaged-children in the world.

Shame, Shame, Shame

Firstly, can I get a DAMMIT! My clothes line just snapped and all the clothes ended up on the muddy garden, including Big Man's work uniform. But luckily not mine, so that's something lol. The line had been getting more and more threadbare (is that what I mean? When strands are pinging off?) and both I and Big Man were aware of it. Do I need tell you that when I called him out to the garden, after tying one end to our dead apple tree, his first question was 'what can I do about it?'. And his second? 'I thought you were going to replace it'. Me, who works all day with old people and doesn't drive around the city delivering things, with all the opportunities to stop at one of the four local B&Q stores that brings? Me, who isn't an ex-submariner and knot expert? Me, who has never bought rope or put up a clothes line before? Sorry, isn't that...kinda....man's work? And to put the tin hat on it, as Big Grandma used to say, the clothes basket had been left out on the garden all night and as I went to throw the clothes in it before taking them to the tumbler (boooo!!!!) I noticed a bird had crapped in it. What's that saying? Some days you're the pigeon and some days you're the statue....

Anyway, my post about guilt struck a chord with some of you. I feel guilty because I'd rather do anything than housework and I continually feel that I'm a housework slut. I look at craft blogs and rather than think 'my goodness, that felt corsage with a button sewn on it is fabulous!' I imagine how pristine the blogger's home must be in order for her to have the time and clear conscience to make little 'pretties'. My house is just full of....well, I call it eBay stock, Big Man calls it shite (he's not the most eloquent of men). We both agree it's 'stuff'. When we made our annual visit to my sis-in-law Sophie's place which is very minimalist and clean, all I could say afterwards was 'where was all her stuff?'. I tend to think people without oodles of 'stuff' are pretty boring (well I would, wouldn't I ;P) and was gratified when a first-time visitor to our place, a friend of Red's said yesterday 'you've got so much cool stuff here!'. (As an aside, Carb Addict was prancing around to 'The Boys Are Back In Town' on my iPod wearing blue winceyette pjs and a jaunty Tyrolean hat, picked up for 50p last week in a charity shop. We strive to make an impression chez nous).

In an attempt to bring some order to my life and because I just CAN'T live in this turmoil any longer, I have decided to follow Flylady's Beginner BabySteps program. Plenty of people on MSE.com swear by it though it looks a bit like nibbling round the edges to me at the moment. Day One was Shine Your Sink. Day Two is Get Dressed And Tie Your Shoes Up. Hmmm. That doesn't really help when my cupboards look like this:

 We have two sets of stairs at our place - this is the cupboard under the kitchen stairs.

It's full of implements I just HAD to have - mini chopper, giant cupcake baking tin,

apple peeler, burger maker. Utterly shameful mess.

Cupboard under (now shined) sink. Note nine bottles of Stardrops.

Can't find anything in here without getting everything else out :(

Tins, veggies, stuff from Approved Foods....it's all crammed in here.

Luckily I was able to thin it out a bit this evening by donating to Carb Addict's

Harvest Festival. Hope they like hot dog sausages!

Cereals we don't eat but kept in case I decided to make Rocky Roads one day.

I've made Rocky Roads loads of times but the cereal remains unused.

Everything falls on top of me when I open these doors.

I tried to organise this cupboard by getting Big Man to cut pieces of 2"x4" that I

could use as tiers on the shelves but it didn't really work. Plus I can't reach the top shelf

so can only use honey when Big Man or Mr Charming are home. Or get a chair,

and frankly who can be arsed with that?

So you can see why I think shining my sink is not going to make much of an impact in the scheme of things. I AM going to make a big effort in the next few weeks to tidy and declutter as much as I can - after all, it's one of my goals on my profile so I suppose I've got to do it. I always have this feeling that I'm not allowed to do things I enjoy or like, or even just slack off whilst the house is so messy - almost as if I don't deserve to kick back when there's so much to be done....it's that female guilt thing again I guess. I just can't let things go to rack and ruin whilst I sew or knit or paint or read and though I doubt very much that Big Man would say 'why are you reading Heat magazine when this place looks like a tip?' (he wouldn't dare!) I always imagine that he disapproves.

Maybe I've just got a complex. Am I (and my house) beyond hope?





This Woman's Guilt Is Never Gone

Why is it that despite being debilitated by painful sinuses and the start of a cold (that would be SO much worse if I didn't dose myself with vitamins daily) I still feel that I have to spend my weekends cleaning, tidying, cooking and baking? Why can't I lay around, doing a bit of light F1 watching, reading the paper and having a bath like others in this house do? I work 24 hours a week ~ not a lot compared to some I know ~ but then I start all over again when I get home. Or I am killed with guilt that I'm not doing the motherly/wifely/ housekeepery thing. I kind of wish I could be one of those women who have their husband running around after them, shopping and doing the housework. All I know is I spend my weekends fighting a losing battle against chaos. Something's gotta give.

Stardrops Keep Falling On My Head

Well they will do when you buy nine bottles at a time!

Apologies to anybody on the South Coast who is looking for Stardrops but when I tracked down nine bottles (all they had) on the shelf of Poundstretcher I had to buy them all - who knows when I might find some again? To those who haven't used it before Stardrops is the apex of cleaning fluids, making any and all household tasks a breeze! (O dear....looking at old knitting patterns yesterday has made me talk like a 50s housefrau!!). I first heard about Stardrops on moneysavingexpert.com and when I saw it in Wilkos I thought I'd try it. I've gone through a couple bottles since then and it's become harder and harder to find it. It's not been available for ages in my local Sainsburys or Asda; they've heard of it but don't sell it at Clarence Hardware (just about THE best hardware store in the world...you know, the kind where all the prices are handwritten and you can buy a single screw?); and like I said, it's not stocked at my local Wilko's. They have offered to get some sent in from Fareham or Boscombe but given the level of staff torpor there I've pretty much given up on that happening. I did ask Babcia to be on the lookout for it in our malignant Northern hometown but now I've found it myself she can cross that off her list of jobs. Are Stardrops more of a Northern thing, like patties and savoury ducks do you think?

The only problem I have now is where to store them - at the frequency I do my housework they'll be there a loooong time!!