Sunday, 13 June 2010
Finger food abounds in the fridge, freezer and cupboards. It's too much, apparently, to ask my boys to eat proper food with a knife and fork - why eat a roast dinner when they can graze on chicken drumsticks, mini quiches, celery sticks and crisps? Still, it's only for a couple of weeks, I'll ram them full of proper meals over the rest of the summer.
Mac has been learning all about all the countries featuring in the World Cup since he got back to school after half term and we all have lively interesting discussions. Go on, ask me anything about South Korea. Go on, ask me!
David has wangled the afternoon of the 23rd off (along with half of the country I suspect) and is working out the quickest way to get Mac home from school in time for the 3pm England kick off. Not the safest, I might add, just the quickest. Besides, I don't know anyone with a motorbike, let alone anyone who will be happy with a five year old clinging on behind them.
Frank and Marjorie have gone a bit off track.....they've decided not to support England but both picked a team out of a hat to support. Frank is therefore rooting for Australia and Marjorie has got Nigeria and was dressed yesterday in a brightly coloured kaftan.
Janey is "not watching the world cup, bloody stupid, Eastenders has been buggered about with" but is spending every match indulging in some sort of pampering routine. I rang her yesterday during the England game only to be told by Darren that she's "sitting upstairs in the bathroom, waxing her minnie". I didn't need to know that.
And as for me, well, I'm doing what any sane woman would do. Ogling the players. I'm not so much musing their passing abilities or nifty footwork but that's what David and Mac are thinking anyway. Charlie's coming round tomorrow night for the Italy game. Now, they've got a lot of, erm, skill.
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
Dick Camegg.......David (staunch Tory) is unhappy that I am "ridiculing" what is an "important day in British politics, mutter, mutter, mumble chunter". He watched the unfolding drama in an agog fashion and there was even talk of getting Mac out of bed to watch it.
Following a (text) discussion with my family and friends I'm off to copyright Dick Camegg (c) before the papers get hold of it!
Sunday, 2 May 2010
Anyway. I've had a little wander round (permission granted by Joanna of course, I would never stick my nose in where it was not wanted. I've changed the layout, all that lace and frilliness.....eurgh. She doesn't know that yet but she won't mind. It was the balance of her mind you see, disturbed. That's right, disturbed. She hasn't been right, poor lovely girl that she is.
But, she's okay now. She's had counselling, I've taken her to Champneys for a couple of days (the treatments there are to die for!) and she's back at work. David felt it for the best, to get her out of the house and, as he put it, not to "worry about her surfaces". His mother (awful old bat she is, that Amelia, marriage hasn't changed her) thinks otherwise but we've been keeping them apart and I suspect we will for a while longer yet.
They're in East Sussex this weekend, Joanna, David, Mackenzie (sweet, sweet child) and the dogs, staying at Andy's beach house. I don't know about you but, the phrase beach house does not indicate a windswept abode. To me, it's not a beach house unless it's in a country where the heat is hot and the serving staff subservient. Anyway......where was I?
Oh yes, Joanna.....she's fine, happy and will be raring to go after her weekend of wind, rain and Galaxy chocolate bars. She had a whole bag, just for them. I suspect that she will need to join the keep fit classes run at the hospital if she carries on like this.
Well, I'm off to have a more in-depth look round, I hope you're all well and are ready for me to visit your "blogs"!
Sunday, 14 March 2010
Sunday, 7 March 2010
I drove to Charlie's new abode in fashionable SE3 and manouvered my way around the complicated landscaping until I found her "house" - she quite likes the whole institutional feel of the complex as it reminds of her of her boarding school and her "house" there - although she couldn't have liked it that much as she tried to set fire to it twice. But that's another story.
"I'm so looking forward to this evening!" Charlie said as she tossed salad with gay abandon, put some sesame seeds into the oven for toasting and cracked open a bottle of Elderflower wine. It was actually nice to see Charlie without a) weeping on her shoulder or b) being inundated with "helpful" leaflets from the Top London Hospitals Psych Department. "Let me just go and get the cake in from the car" I said, opening the flat door and heading out into the expensively scented communal hallway only to find myself in pitch darkness. "The light switch is helpfully at the door end of the corridor...." said a voice immediately behind me. I paced forward and found the switch and flipped it just in time to hear the door to Charlie's flat go "click". She looked at me, I looked at her. "Oh fuck!" we both said in unison.
A quick summing up concluded that
- we were locked out
- with no keys
- and no mobile phones
- with no windows open
- and the oven was on, toasting sesame seeds
- with candles flickering merrily on the mantlepiece, table centre and window ledge
- Charlie had no shoes on and was wearing a fetching apron
Okay, said I, keep calm. Charlie gazed at me in wonderment and said "How can I keep calm? We are LOCKED out, with NO keys, and no MOBILES and my NEW FLAT is about to be burned down by CANDLES and the OVEN!!!!!" "It'll be fine" I said, stroking her arm as if she were a nervy thoroughbred."Who's got your spare keys?" I asked, feeling momentarily smug that had she given me her spare set as I think I suggested when she moved in, we would be out of this mess in around half an hour - the time it would take me to drive home and back. There was no point in ringing anyone - especially David who would panic and never let either of us forget it if he had to come and "rescue" us.
"My brother" she said, eyes huge in her face. "Your brother that lives in Esher or your brother that lives in Sittingbourne?" "Matthew!" Bugger, the one that lives in Sittingbourne. Not that either were five minutes away. "Have you left a set with a neighbour?" I demanded. "No, I don't know them." came the small reply as she threw herself at the front door. "What are you doing?" I snapped. "Listening for flames" she whimpered. I suggested, in withering tones, that I go outside and take a look through the window.
"We need an emergency locksmith" I said, pacing the expensively scented corridor and wondering why the hell, if The Management could provide pot pourri for the hallways, they couldn't provide a light switch closer to the flat doors. I banged on the door opposite whilst Charlie hopped from foot to foot. To be fair, her immediate neighbour wasn't remotely fazed to have a snivelling woman beg for access to his Broadband and a phone while some bolshy cow prowled round outside the House in search of open windows to Charlie's flat. When I returned from my prowl (firstly checking on the candle situation) Charlie had a glass of wine in her hand and was sitting on the stairs.
An hour and sixy five quid later, we were back in the flat, on the sofa with Charlie vowing never to leave the flat ever again. She'd had some good advice from her neighbour ("always flick the catch up and/or take your keys with you") and from the locksmith ("always make sure you have a spare set of keys somewhere close") and was frantically stuffing freshly cooked pizza into her face.
"How were you so.....calm?" she demanded of me, as she clutched her aching head.
I'm always calm when other people have a crisis - I'm a complete fruit loop when it comes to my own and would have been climbing the walls had I been Charlie tonight. But I tell you what.....it did take me out of myself and I've been feeling so much better since.
And Charlie dropped her spare set of keys off this afternoon, along with a request that I tell no-one what happened. Now....would I?!
Sunday, 28 February 2010
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Sunday, 7 February 2010
Friday, 29 January 2010
Tuesday, 19 January 2010
Thursday, 14 January 2010
I’d cosseted the jeans, prepared them lovingly. They’re clean as I washed them before I put them on my Can’t Wear THOSE Any More shelf in my wardrobe a few years ago. But as we all know, washed jeans are tighter than normal and need wearing in a bit before we can define whether or not they actually fit. So, just before Christmas I put them on along with a long line top to hide the bulges and wore them about the house to “stretch” them. After wearing them for two days (and having them leave an imprint around my waist that actually hurt) they had stretched considerably. I’m not kidding myself, I’m never going to wear a pair of skinny jeans but I do at least want to fit into my Pre-Mackenzie pair.
So, having got them ready to accept my current body shape, and having spent the previous two weeks eating healthy foods (with the odd lapse), walking to and from school in the morning, taking the dogs twice round Dulwich Park on Saturdays and Sundays and clenching whilst cooking, I had high hopes of this morning’s little experiment.
I got them on but struggled to pull them up. I could do them up (like before, lying flat and then attempting to stand up straight without bending) but the bulge was worse, they were twisted on my legs and the pockets were sticking out alarmingly. In short they were worse than on New Years Eve.
I walked around a bit to check their flexibility but only succeeded in catching sight of myself in the mirror and emitting a small sob of…..I’m not sure what. Horror? Frustration? Mourning for all of the food I COULD have eaten?
I got out of them as quickly as I could (not easy when they were clinging to my flesh like leeches), threw them on the floor of the wardrobe in a heap and flopped onto my bed. Five minutes – and a good wallow – later I dragged myself downstairs and kicked the exercise bike.
That was at half past eleven. You’ll be pleased to hear that I didn’t delve into the biscuit tin, nor did I hunt out the last of the Quality Street that David has hidden from me. Instead I made myself a Cup A Soup and rang Charlie who is having monstrous problems with her new flat (as in, she’s ready to move into it but the current occupiers aren’t ready to leave it yet) for a good bitching session. We’ve concluded that two weeks isn’t enough time for anything to happen and that I should carry on as I have been and not worry too much about it. She’s going to pop round later with a small bar of Green and Blacks as a treat but I’ve got to promise not to eat it until the weekend as a “test of my willpower”.
Sometimes I wonder if she knows me AT all!
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
Monday, 11 January 2010
Thursday, 7 January 2010
Saturday, 2 January 2010
All about me
- Nunhead Mum of One
- Nunhead, London, United Kingdom
- I'm a mum of one, wife of one and owner to several dogs, a variety of breeds and sizes. I live in the up and coming area (or so they say) of Nunhead and have mad neighbours, strange friends and certifiable relatives. I shop locally, although I do defect to Sainsburys once a week - shoot me now local shopkeepers.