Flying the nest

What to do, what to do? My friend Rosie (mum of Mac's erstwhile Best Chum Ben when they're not falling out) has offered to take Mac camping this weekend. Just the Friday, Saturday and Sunday and home on Monday. In a tent. On a campsite in Camber Sands. He's keen, David's keen, me - not so keen.

It's the whole cutting-the-apron-strings thing for me. I know in my heart that, whilst my pride and joy is flinging random items of clothing into his rucksack and marvelling at the adventures he and Ben are going to have, he's going to get fifteen miles down the road and demand to return home to "mummy". Of course, I could be totally wrong and this could be just the thing he needs, four days (well three and bit) without me fussing, primping and generally worrying about him. Am I? He probably won't even miss me one little bit will he? Moan, mutter, grumble.....

Not that I've mollycoddled him. Much. He's like me, a homebody, happiest when he's within his own four walls. Janey is bemoaning the age of her children: "wish they could go off with their friends for a long weekend" she said as she dug into a slice of pizza (not before picking off the mushrooms with neon pink talons). Bea is encouraging me to be "brave darling, and cut the ties that bind". This was said as she packed bags for both Caitlin and Ian who are heading off to the Norfolk Broads with Flavia the Au Pair on Saturday for a whole week. "You and David can enjoy a second honeymoon" she went on and then informed me that while her "babies" were away, she and Stephen would be going Tantric. When I told David he asked me where they were flying to. There must be a book I can buy him, you know, a beginners guide or something.

Anyway. A decision has to be made tonight. Rosie will be ringing me shortly and I know that I have to say yes. My tiny boy is upstairs, lying awake with excitement as I type. The contents of his wardrobe are all over the floor and he's already packed some toys that he "might" share with Ben.

David has already offered to pop into Boots at London Bridge tomorrow and bring me back some Kalms.

Malfunction!

I'm not quite sure why - perhaps its the stormy weather and/or electrical build up in the atmosphere - but things have started to go wrong in this house. I mean, even more than usual. David's Blackberry took on a life of its own on Monday when it started ringing random entries in his address book. I hear Big Boss was rather concerned to get a phone call from David at half past nine at night, especially when all he could hear was "oikish contestants on Big Brother shouting about lentils". David is now mortified that Big Boss fears he is addicted to the reality show and has laid the blame fully at my door. I won't mention that David himself is rather keen on the new arrival Bea but, he assures me, it's only because she "reminds me of you darling". Hm.


Which reminds me....last week I told Janey that there were new housemates and chucked in those names I could remember. "BEA?" Janey boomed from Sydenham. "BEA as in OUR BEA?" she screeched. Once I'd explained the mix-up she foghorned with relief "Bloody HELL, I did wonder what the hell she would make of sleeping in a communal bedroom!". Our Bea was not impressed by even the merest slightest suggestion she would lower herself to appear on reality television as you can imagine. Anyway, I digress. Malfunctioning electrical items. Right.


Apart from David's wayward Blackberry, we've had:

• the Sky remote control that keeps informing us that we need to replace its batteries or there will be consequences. So far, since Friday evening, it's had six sets of two batteries. I'm all for leaving it as I'm convinced it's just panicking because it wants attention but David is reluctant to let that happen because he'd struggle to operate the system (and can't go half an hour without swapping channels)


• our doorbell (battery operated) that keeps ringing of its own accord. We've taken to ignoring it now even though the dogs go mad barking each time it happens - anyone who desperately wants access to our abode will know to knock on the door. I was told off this morning by a Jehovah's Witness who, when we failed to answer her ding dong, came to our open living room window and instructed me that "when someone rings your bell, you are expected to answer it". I stared at her open mouthed and spluttered an apology before realising that she had her head thrust into my house. My subsequent comment won me no favours and, no doubt, no place in Heaven.
  
• Sky Broadband that only connects when it feels like it. I can almost hear the PC saying "yah boo sucks, I don't want to upload today". This has also affected the laptop - Mac offered to let me use his but, as it's a Fisher Price one, I declined gracefully.


• my mobile that only sends texts when I urge it to do so. For example, the text I sent to Charlie only went after I waved the handset in the air and said "send, you git, SEND!"
  

Still. It's not that bad. At the moment the blackberry is silent, as is the doorbell. David has just selected the Poseiden Adventure on Channel 4+1 on Sky and, as you can see I'm broadbanding.

Although I keep hearing what sounds like an air raid siren. Can anyone in the environs of Nunhead hear it too? Should we be worried?

Fit Flops

This is fast turning into a once a week blog isn't it.......I must remedy that!

I'm currently aching all over (no, not swine flu - or as Mac calls it "swing flu") but because of a present from my beloved husband. When he presented me with a pair of Fit Flops as a reward for getting - ahem, drum roll please - 97% on my First Aid course I wasn't sure whether to hit him or not. What was he suggesting? I know that I could do with losing a few (!!!) pounds and toning up a tad but, quite frankly, I was a tidge insulted.

Not any longer. They are fabulous. I can't praise them highly enough. They tone you up whilst you are walking, making your leg and bum muscles work harder. They're ergonomic. And that's the extent of my knowledge on the subject. Apart from knowing that, after wearing them last Friday for half an hour whilst I walked Mac to school and back, I came back home, kicked them off and felt the buuuurn. And I mean buuuurn.....my buttocks (excuse my French) ached as if I'd done an extensive work out. And I'd stopped off at Ayres on the way back for a doughnut!

Bea, naturally, is horrified and is beseeching me to "get rid of them darling, its practically porn for your feet, it's ugly, offensive and......eurgh!". She's forbidden me to wear them in Dulwich (and therefore anywhere near her house) and resembled Davina McCall even more than she usually does (in tone and actions) when she came face to face with the offending items this evening. "Aaargh, how COULD you come to the DOOR wearing them? Eeeeeshk!" she squealed before running down the path and leaping into her chauffeur driven Mercedes.

I dread to think what she'd say now: I'm wearing my Fit Flops and my Slanket.

Could do better

Well. I'm pretty sure that the results of Mac's first parents evening matched mine. His art work was displayed on the wall, examples of his Numbers and Words were blu-tacked to his table and his teacher, by the time we got to him, was suffering from a rictus grin and a bad hair day.

The general gist was "Mackenzie is a likeable, friendly student who gets on well with his classmates" which I naturally took to mean "class clown" - just like me. Also "Mackenzie needs to listen to instructions carefully and sometimes finds his natural exuberance a little difficult to quell" which David took to mean "unable to focus and rowdy". Again, just like me!

However, we were charmed when a number of other parents were dragged over to meet Mac who was suffering from a rare case of shyness surrounded, as he was, by so many adults proclaiming "So, you're Mac!". We headed out of school and onto Pizza Hut as a treat and our pride and joy kept us entertained with tales of school and informed us that "Melissa eats chalk mummy" which is nothing to laugh at but the face he pulled when he informed us of this fact made me choke on my stuffed crust.

My First Aid course is not a barrel of laughs. I'm on day two and it's hard going.....I came over faint at one point when I had to set a "dislocated arm", the dummy was very realistic (and was called Kevin). Day three tomorrow is Burns and Scalds and Dressings in the morning with Resus Annie putting in an appearance in the afternoon......Thursday morning is a quick recap and then a written test in the afternoon. There's six others on the course and the instructor (Malcolm) has an alarming habit of leaping from one subject to another which isn't wildly helpful.

Still, Liz from Physio and I are having a good old giggle, especially when we were given four rolled up bandages each and told to "deal with the angled object" on two of our male colleagues. They blushed, we snorted with laughter and set to our task with gusto. Liz successfully managed to secure the angled object "sticking out" of Bill the Porter's leg whereas Gavin the Security Guard and I got sidetracked as we looked out of the window at a woman attempted to reverse a BMW into a parking space big enough only for a Mini Cooper.

I wouldn't like to see my report, I tell you that much although I suspect Malcolm would like to suspend me with immediate effect.

Five out of ten for effort

We're going to Mac's first ever "proper" Parents Evening on Friday. I'm dreading it. David is already puffing up with pride. Mac is completely unbothered by the whole thing. When Bea asked him yesterday if he's going to get a good report, he shrugged and pulled his "whatever" face.

"Darling" said Bea as she swilled Pimms around in her glass "When I got Ian's first report I had to be prised off the ceiling with pride. When we got Caitlin's first report I had to be shovelled off the floor with mortification."

This hasn't helped.

Coupled with this is the news from my boss that she's very kindly put me on a First Aid training course because I "filled her quota and ticked all the boxes". There's a test at the end of the course which I'm not looking forward to, especially as David told Mac that if his report is "excellent" he'll buy him a skateboard and that if it's "better than mummy's" then he'll get an extra little present (which I'm hoping is protectice clothing).

He hasn't told me yet what I'll get if my report is excellent but Bea suggests that I point him in the direction of Tiffany's.