tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54659655949131646802024-02-07T04:44:00.619+00:00The Sardine Tin...or how we are all just looking for the key.Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comBlogger242125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-75732260219541267302022-04-30T14:18:00.000+01:002022-04-30T14:18:16.182+01:00Maslow was wrong<p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Almost since the very beginning of the pandemic, I’ve been working on our “back to work” strategy – new normal, time to review what permanent changes we can make as a result, blah blah. </span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-084d2ac3-7fff-4e07-202d-3064d065ca8d"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Amongst the myriad changes that we have made – mostly positive in my view, but I am probably biased - it seems to be parking (or the lack thereof going forwards) that has caused the most employee angst. The company logic of course is that if employees are not going to be on-site full time there is no need to pay for additional city-centre parking spaces. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Those that are most stressed about parking are the most junior in the company and the most senior. I have sympathy for the junior members of the organisation – they are obviously least well paid, and the prospect of having to shell out for a public car park every time they come in the office is obviously stressful and makes a big financial difference. Some of our offices are not the easiest to get to by public transport and there might be the added complication of kids being dropped off at school or nursery etc. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s the more senior cohort and their reaction that interests me. I recently took part in an external “round table” event </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: line-through; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">where a bunch of consultants tried to sell us services to things we already knew or had already done</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> that was about best practice sharing and networking across industries. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">According to the research presented, those aged 48 and over are the age group most likely to want to return to the office. Now, first, as someone aged *cough* 48, I can say I’m definitely not in this camp, but then I’m an anti-social introverted grumpy old woman who has no desire to go back to spending 2 and a half hours of my day commuting when I can spend that extra time </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: line-through; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">exercising, learning Greek and baking sourdough bread</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> in bed. Apparently it’s to do with the fact that people aged 48 and over are all in “senior management positions”. A quick internet search tells me that a third of all workers in 2020 were aged 50 and over. I can’t actually believe that a third of workers are also senior managers, but I may be putting 50 and 50 together to make 4…</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Anyway, prior to the pandemic, access to parking was based on rank (and length of service) and removal of the automatic right to park on-site therefore represents an obvious removal of a perk. The howls of outrage were deafening. Never mind the fact that this is the group of employees that can most afford the odd public car park and the fact that they will probably be spending less than 40% of their previous time in the office in future. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">In fact, the only other time I can think of that has been such "noise" was when the free Friday fruit baskets were removed a few years ago due to cost cutting. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The message? Don't make us go back in the office, but don't you dare take away everything that was there before!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiw1oXiRp2JD9WcPEkYsQnSt6EEdCmDiZjs-cbMx1AsohSf4XMx_R0aylDTUPF4JsoRZvijKFpzXa_tGkUU_TkA_Hcs45WZhtPpOitTMAFXONAq3klEalmJ0dIZiIoSdcuWEhS7--wAU7QxAP_GsabMRdSuIZU7KmlX9qo13hpy_QyDwb2y5as6jlMm" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="499" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiw1oXiRp2JD9WcPEkYsQnSt6EEdCmDiZjs-cbMx1AsohSf4XMx_R0aylDTUPF4JsoRZvijKFpzXa_tGkUU_TkA_Hcs45WZhtPpOitTMAFXONAq3klEalmJ0dIZiIoSdcuWEhS7--wAU7QxAP_GsabMRdSuIZU7KmlX9qo13hpy_QyDwb2y5as6jlMm" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /></div></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #30272e; font-family: Inter, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">"</span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/34233468@N00/3044660630" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="--tw-blur: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-brightness: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-contrast: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-drop-shadow: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-filter: var(--tw-blur) var(--tw-brightness) var(--tw-contrast) var(--tw-grayscale) var(--tw-hue-rotate) var(--tw-invert) var(--tw-saturate) var(--tw-sepia) var(--tw-drop-shadow); --tw-grayscale: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-hue-rotate: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-invert: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-ring-color: rgb(59 130 246 / 0.5); --tw-ring-inset: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-saturate: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-sepia: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-text-opacity: 1; --tw-transform: translateX(var(--tw-translate-x)) translateY(var(--tw-translate-y)) rotate(var(--tw-rotate)) skewX(var(--tw-skew-x)) skewY(var(--tw-skew-y)) scaleX(var(--tw-scale-x)) scaleY(var(--tw-scale-y)); --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: currentcolor; border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: Inter, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: inherit;" target="_blank">Maslow's Hierarchy for Geek Events</a><span style="color: #30272e; font-family: Inter, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">"</span><span style="--tw-blur: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-brightness: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-contrast: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-drop-shadow: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-filter: var(--tw-blur) var(--tw-brightness) var(--tw-contrast) var(--tw-grayscale) var(--tw-hue-rotate) var(--tw-invert) var(--tw-saturate) var(--tw-sepia) var(--tw-drop-shadow); --tw-grayscale: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-hue-rotate: var(--tw-empty, ); 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border-color: currentcolor; border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; text-decoration: inherit;" target="_blank">davidflanders</a></span><span style="color: #30272e; font-family: Inter, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> is marked with </span><a class="uppercase" href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/?ref=openverse" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="--tw-blur: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-brightness: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-contrast: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-drop-shadow: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-filter: var(--tw-blur) var(--tw-brightness) var(--tw-contrast) var(--tw-grayscale) var(--tw-hue-rotate) var(--tw-invert) var(--tw-saturate) var(--tw-sepia) var(--tw-drop-shadow); --tw-grayscale: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-hue-rotate: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-invert: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-ring-color: rgb(59 130 246 / 0.5); --tw-ring-inset: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-saturate: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-sepia: var(--tw-empty, ); --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-text-opacity: 1; --tw-transform: translateX(var(--tw-translate-x)) translateY(var(--tw-translate-y)) rotate(var(--tw-rotate)) skewX(var(--tw-skew-x)) skewY(var(--tw-skew-y)) scaleX(var(--tw-scale-x)) scaleY(var(--tw-scale-y)); --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: currentcolor; border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: Inter, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: inherit; text-transform: uppercase;" target="_blank">CC BY-SA 2.0</a><span style="color: #30272e; font-family: Inter, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Julie Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541550094754392755noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-46408050466351344092020-04-21T16:21:00.001+01:002020-04-21T16:21:50.136+01:00The discovery of the sardine tinHello, well, this is weird. Normally it's my mum writing the posts. Anyway, hi my name is Harriet but you know me as thing 2, DD2, number 2 child, etc. In a nutshell I am the youngest of the two children. I am almost 13, which I think is important because when the last blog was posted I was 10. In one word I would describe myself as weird, so would everyone I know. I'm that kid who likes chocolate fingers and ketchup. I told you I'm weird.<div><br></div><div>In this covid 19 crisis I have been doing work from my mum's tablet. Today I was scrolling through the camera roll when I came across a screenshot of this very website. Of course I've seen it before but I never thought about searching it. My curiosity got the better of me and next thing I know I am scrolling through these very posts. They made me laugh a lot and remember those moments. I particularly enjoyed the letter to shoe companies and got very excited of when there was a picture of my brilliant year 3 shoes. Man, saying that makes me feel old.</div><div><br></div><div>A lot has changed around here, we have a new kitchen and a fabulous bathroom. Pretty cool right? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>Covid 19 has given me a lot of free time. Which makes this even more boring. Especially because I'm an extrovert. I have to go places and the furthest I have been recently is our local pharmacy. I don't like having loads of homework but I can't just complain about that because it is my only form of education. The worst part is I might have to have my 13th birthday in lock down, however I'm kind of looking forward to it. One thing I am sad about is we had a whole list of what we were going to do and now we can't. </div><div><br></div><div>I really like the name the sardine tin. One time I thought of a slogan: we are the sardines and the world is our tin can. So what's the moral of the story? Don't tell your kids you have a blog or this will happen. Heheheheheh. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-22599033099439766232017-01-16T20:02:00.000+00:002017-01-16T20:02:00.151+00:00Ski fashion through the agesThis weekend marked the panicky “4 weeks until we go skiing” weekend for me. Four weeks of “Argh,I will never be fit enough” and “argh, why do children always insist on GROWING?”<br />
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Anyway, last weekend, we had some of the lovely friends who we are going with over to our place, and we took them on a tour of local outdoor sports outfitters in a quest to get them kitted out in some new gear.This clearly made me realise that, while I am quite good at spending my own money, spending other people’s is ten times more fun! It was a largely successful trip, resulting in them mainly getting what they came for, and no children whining.<br />
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Our friend M has not updated his ski attire since we first went skiing with him around 15 years ago, and this got me pondering (in a totally unresearched, unscientific way) how slopeside fashion has moved on over the years...<br />
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<b><i>The 70s:</i></b><br />
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The earliest known photograph of me on a pair of skis dates from roughly 1976 at the age of not very old, courtesy of a winter holiday in Austria. Sadly, despite my best efforts, I was unable to unearth it in my parent's house for the sake of this blog post. You'll have to believe me when I say it involves a very fetching bright red one-piece and the biggest 70s-style sunglasses on a very small child - very vaguely like this, but smaller:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for 1970s child ski clothing" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b9/d1/c0/b9d1c0bc55360a5bc36a3319ed46e816.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">via <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/432416001695615695/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></td></tr>
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My knowledge of the fashions of this time is slightly sketchy, but I can only deduce that the seventies followed the high fashion knitted jodhpurs and woolly jumpers of the Bond films of the 1960s with some slightly more basic “technical” properties, such as waterproofing.<br />
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<b><i>The 80s:</i></b><br />
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The 1980s of course is where slope fashion really kicks up a notch - with added colour, added print and added volume. Common for both men and women was the all-in-one, either in delicate pastels or primary colours with graphic prints. These styles can still be spotted on the ski slopes of the French alps in the over-50s if you look carefully, but the photo I'm using to demonstrate this look IS from the family archive - eyes have been starred to protect the innocent...:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD4EsyqPF70JLT982hs_Qtg576LGKhLXjHarkwo6M0vx-meXp7EMxG8Y4DMTMiBBt5WbXi5DfDsJuvk-2rDaxizo7l-qVFEvik8azSSOKqWzikwvtsD8CeeU0ezbHf5tv4qYBkd_5hrWA/s1600/Image_amended.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="80s ski fashion" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD4EsyqPF70JLT982hs_Qtg576LGKhLXjHarkwo6M0vx-meXp7EMxG8Y4DMTMiBBt5WbXi5DfDsJuvk-2rDaxizo7l-qVFEvik8azSSOKqWzikwvtsD8CeeU0ezbHf5tv4qYBkd_5hrWA/s320/Image_amended.jpg" title="80s ski fashion" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>The 90s:</i></b><br />
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Starting off in counter-culture towards the late 80s and the early 90s, by the late 90s “snowboard style” was becoming more mainstream and with a defined identity - even influencing mainstream ski fashions, which got looser and baggier and reverted to two pieces<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result" height="320" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQLfiMhQjSn57hanNpWhmGVRTF2VMsgSKE5rCMMpa666EW4Lslc" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="263" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/d/Books/Snow-Beach-Snowboarding-Style-86/1576878201/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1484571589&sr=8-1&keywords=snow+beach" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Link</a></td></tr>
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<b><i>The 00s</i></b>:<br />
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Thankfully, the noughties is where I first started my forays into serious downhill territory, and by this<br />
point designer fashion was making a name for itself on the slopes, as in this photo of Victoria<br />
Beckham – Chanel skis, anyone?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Victoria Beckham with Chanel Skis" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/7a/f7/28/7af728560054abca20a6566d4ad0f816.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">via <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/106960559869745519/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></td></tr>
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More obviously, however, for those of us mere mortals that could not stretch to Prada ski jackets, this merely meant a more toned down aesthetic – at least as far as colours went. Black was, after all, the new black, and even if you weren't dressed as the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milk_Tray#Milk_Tray_Man" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">milk tray man</a>, you were probably dressed fairly "tastefully" in comparison to some of the 80s and 90s.<br />
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<b><i>The 2010s:</i></b><br />
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Which brings us to today. The biggest change in the last ten years has probably been the move from "helmets for the kids" to "helmets for all", and it's now rare to see people without them on the slopes. Colour and pattern are also making a comeback in a big way, and not just on jackets, but also on salopettes, as is ski wear that doesn't look much like ski wear - beware the perils of a furry hood in the snow! If you're thinking of updating your look, therefore, you probably have more choice than ever - if you really want to, you can even find one-piece suits for adults again...<br />
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Dare you try that "anything goes" vibe? Here are some of my favourite slightly wackier picks:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5s0ZJeJLbiqC5_8fl70hcFFH4WZBnpCW2tcEzLcmBvMBFUrQpoDx4tIkNjzIUUTFj5eK_Ko19Yfbq4N-XVVwpD4YJbi0YE8CH4JmQaxU1X1WtK_xVbWKNW1jZam6R2bzalW4d9La-tdk/s1600/skicollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5s0ZJeJLbiqC5_8fl70hcFFH4WZBnpCW2tcEzLcmBvMBFUrQpoDx4tIkNjzIUUTFj5eK_Ko19Yfbq4N-XVVwpD4YJbi0YE8CH4JmQaxU1X1WtK_xVbWKNW1jZam6R2bzalW4d9La-tdk/s400/skicollage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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L-R, from top left: <a href="http://www.decathlon.co.uk/slide-300-womens-ski-trousers-turquoise-id_8371049.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Decathlon slide ski trousers</a>, <a href="https://www.absolute-snow.co.uk/V/Burton_Radar_Womens_SkiSnowboard_Jacket_L_PixelGrapeseedTropical-(116944)" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Burton radar jacket</a>, <a href="https://www.oneskee.com/womens-chevron-blue-red-white-snowboard-onesie-all-in-one-ski-suit" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Women's chevron "oneskee"</a>, <a href="https://www.escape2.co.uk/E006545CB-S.html?gclid=Cj0KEQiA-_HDBRD2lomhoufc1JkBEiQA0TVMmo4zEZLFlxHhWRIHqLHHnAC82M8nunfvoToYVoGKNLwaAtgi8P8HAQ" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Smith Valence ski helmet</a>, <a href="http://www.topshop.com/en/tsuk/product/zebra-co-ord-by-topshop-sno-6159809?bi=0&ps=20&bundle=true&Ntt=ski" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Top Shop zebra co-ord</a>, <a href="http://www.roxy-uk.co.uk/rockferry-snowboard-goggles-3613371722760.html#cgid=snow_snowshop_goggles&start=5&hitcount=17" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Roxy Rockferry goggle</a>s, <a href="http://www.sweatybetty.com/clothing/tops/long-sleeve-tops/multi-jardin-seamless-long-sleeve-top/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Sweaty Betty Jardin long sleeve top and leggings</a>, <a href="https://www.alpinetrek.co.uk/norroena-womens-lofoten-gore-tex-pro-pants-ski-pant/?aid=6585dacb291844c20ba4396966703a60&pid=10004&cpkey=c6BPLUqRMU0g2mZ8McQxdMJbe8z-TGnhI3UTFOn1qSs&_$ja=tsid:60797|cid:254044867|agid:25884866587|tid:pla-146885147587|crid:104604046507|nw:g|rnd:16381887327349701522|dvc:c|adp:1o4&gclid=Cj0KEQiA-_HDBRD2lomhoufc1JkBEiQA0TVMmoh-Z9y2fLSRRf4IZ4rnSelYmH_onA2gFIfrPgnAAjgaAq9U8P8HAQ" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Norrona Lofoten Gore-Tex pro pant</a>s, <a href="http://www.blacks.co.uk/womens/211562-dare-2b-women-s-illation-skiing-jacket-navy.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Dare2Be Illation jacket</a><br />
<br />
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<br />Julie Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541550094754392755noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-76901118256777454082015-12-06T16:34:00.001+00:002015-12-06T16:34:32.849+00:00I'm So Loving...<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>1) Christmas lights in December<br/>
2) Hamming it up in my first amateur theatricals in 11 years<br/>
3) That rehearsals mean I do some decent walking again<br/>
4) That there has been some great TV on recently (The Bridge series 3, Catastrophe series 2, Detectorists series 2, You Me & The Apocalypse to name but a few)<br/>
5) That the prospect of 10 days off for the first time since August seems tantalisingly close<br/>
6) The return of winter boots<br/>
7) The joy of discovering a real gem of a gift for someone<br/>
8) The smell of cinnamon and gingerbread<br/>
9)That my children still find this time of year magical<br/>
10) Christmas lights in December<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Snas67DcKss2KyeVusGmno4Me78DqN5CSyT06RNxciqzz3o2qv3jSCbVE1FJs_PrzJGD7ZVvekAAkdVrJIWEDK_mYUVjsKyJPtbbG59ZtzfEjOztL5jknNTVoL91ABNKlvlzcuOgQimf/s2560/%25255BUNSET%25255D.jpg' onblur='try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}'><img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Snas67DcKss2KyeVusGmno4Me78DqN5CSyT06RNxciqzz3o2qv3jSCbVE1FJs_PrzJGD7ZVvekAAkdVrJIWEDK_mYUVjsKyJPtbbG59ZtzfEjOztL5jknNTVoL91ABNKlvlzcuOgQimf/s350/%25255BUNSET%25255D.jpg' style='display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;'/></a></div>Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-59448833262650428362015-11-27T10:55:00.002+00:002015-11-27T10:58:01.626+00:00Things I am over.<div dir="ltr">
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<ol>
<li>Beards.</li>
<li>People who post nothing but Instagram links on Twitter.</li>
<li>Christmas in November</li>
<li>The state of my <strike>pigsty </strike>house</li>
<li>People who keep pulling out in front of me on roundabouts</li>
<li>Insurance companies</li>
<li>Women's clothing without decent pockets</li>
<li>Books with no obvious chapters</li>
<li>Books with ridiculously long chapters</li>
<li>Monday mornings</li>
<li>Dark days</li>
<li>People saying "off of"</li>
<li>Not having any time off work since August</li>
<li>Christmas adverts</li>
<li>Getting old</li>
<li>Car alarms</li>
<li>Fly tippers</li>
<li>Beards</li>
</ol>
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Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-15251754222510735192015-11-21T18:02:00.001+00:002015-11-27T10:32:00.976+00:00The trouble with tween girls (the Christmas gift edition)<div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Disclosure: this is a PR collaboration with those lovely folks at <a href="http://www.brantano.co.uk/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Brantano</a>, so you'll see one or two of their items in this list - all ideas are my own though).</span></i></div>
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Eldest daughter is closer to 10 than 11. Youngest daughter is 8 and a half. I'm putting these facts out there mainly for my own benefit. You see, you'd think it would no longer surprise me after ALL THESE YEARS how different my children are to each other. So much for me priding myself on being relatively intelligent, but I'm still not quite sure how two children with (apparently) the same genetic base to choose from end up with such a different mixture. At no time is this more apparent than in the run up to Christmas every year.<br />
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Daughter no. 2 starts thinking about her list around October every year, puts pen to paper early November, and places it in front of the chimney no later than mid-November. Her list is detailed and long, containing a mix of the fanciful (does anyone know where I can get an "invisibility cloak" from?), the realistic (various DVDs), and thoughtful ("a hoverboard for daddy").</div>
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Daughter no. 1, however, is much more laissez-faire about the whole thing (last year's list; "Just surprise me"). This may of course be down to the fact that she appears to be at that age where I suspect she no longer really quite believes in the whole Father Christmas thing (mainly brought on by the fact Mr Sardinetin and I are such bad liars), but is worried that admitting this may be tempting fate too much. This year, at least we have something concrete to go on - namely a list containing 3 items; </div>
<div>
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<div>
1) A phone</div>
<div>
2) A phone case</div>
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3) Surprise me</div>
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(Ah, the dreaded mobile phone debate. I've resisted it for as long as possible - up to now, I've managed to bat it away fairly easily with a simple "you're too young". Yet with increased independence and peer pressure it isn't quite as easy an argument to have any more. Realistically, it will probably end up being an 11th birthday present, and it is likely to be a second-hand parental cast off. No good for Christmas, therefore.)</div>
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So what does a true tween get for Christmas?! Well, never mind the tween herself, here are <b><i>my </i></b>personal favourites....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dPeNmwtcphDS6ZLJ95FZT1C839bRlcae1e55tecoO7QUC4sJ0clwKGrEXz6t9-3FImA5eDnRXnTtwseE6mS5bqepEnAPfMuPKN_q30D2MGEoQPEjJOIAvn8Eydj5B8eHvaVEnuYkvxnC/s1600/PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dPeNmwtcphDS6ZLJ95FZT1C839bRlcae1e55tecoO7QUC4sJ0clwKGrEXz6t9-3FImA5eDnRXnTtwseE6mS5bqepEnAPfMuPKN_q30D2MGEoQPEjJOIAvn8Eydj5B8eHvaVEnuYkvxnC/s400/PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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(From the top, left to right:</div>
<div>
1) <a href="http://www.iwantoneofthose.com/gift-home-office/travel-edition-scratch-map/10550011.html?utm_source=googleprod&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=gp_gifts&affil=thggpsad&switchcurrency=GBP&shippingcountry=GB&gclid=Cj0KEQiAycCyBRDss-D2yIWd_tgBEiQAL-9Rki_HwVBLwSRKkKjAvv4p3uRjWNqTkxNsr7_A3Z0UWfQaAv_k8P8HAQ&gclsrc=aw.ds&dclid=CLiXsvaBoskCFSiH2wodijEIZA" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">World scratch off map</a> - as she's turning into quite a well-travelled young lady, who is also off to Berlin (gulp) with school next year</div>
<div>
2) <a href="https://www.brantano.co.uk/bags-and-accessories/ladies-bags-and-accessories-bags-handbags-autumn-winter-new-season-styles-beige-elementz-4649204444" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Glitter owl bag</a>- because GLITTER! and OWLS!</div>
<div>
3) A <a href="http://www.notonthehighstreet.com/alphabetbags/product/initial-coin-purse" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">personalised purs</a>e - to go in the bag, obvs.</div>
<div>
4) <a href="http://www.notonthehighstreet.com/oskarandcatie/product/make-your-own-chocolate-lip-balm" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Make your own lip balm kit</a> - for a bit of fun, plus it comes in chocolate flavour for our resident chocoholic.</div>
<div>
5) <a href="https://www.brantano.co.uk/girls/canvas/girls-kids-trainers-canvas-characters-canvas-shoes-new-season-styles-christmas-childrens-pink-monster-high-2261212850" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Monster High canvas shoes</a> - because, despite hating pink, my particular tween has a thing for pink leopard print at the moment.(Although, as I've <a href="http://www.thesardinetin.com/2015/07/an-open-letter-to-childrens-shoe.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">previously blogged</a>, shoes are also a bit of a bone of contention around here, so I may be on a losing streak with this one...)</div>
<div>
6) F is for Fabulous....an <a href="http://www.cultfurniture.com/lighting-c11/metal-11-mini-l-e-d-letter-lights-f-p2480" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">initial letter light </a> - for the bedroom makeover we're planning next year</div>
<div>
7) Vintage style <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0006GWPZG/ref=wl_it_dp_o_pC_S_ttl?_encoding=UTF8&colid=HLJ99NZRR8FM&coliid=I98K7PW6912TG&psc=1" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Cluedo </a>- because, despite exhibiting increasingly teenage tendencies, she still loves playing family board games. Plus this edition does wonders for parental nostalgia.</div>
<div>
8) <a href="http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/like/141756999992?adgroupid=13936810266&hlpht=true&hlpv=2&rlsatarget=kwd-124296814626&adtype=pla&ff3=1&lpid=122&poi=&ul_noapp=true&limghlpsr=true&device=c&chn=ps&campaignid=220881786&crdt=0&ff12=67&ff11=ICEP3.0.0-L&ff14=122&viphx=1&ops=true&ff13=80" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Great British Bake Off hoody</a> - one of her favourite TV shows. Plus nobody likes a soggy bottom.</div>
<div>
9) A Motorola Moto G. OK, OK, I said no phones...but if she were to get one, it might be something like this. I have one and it's a great phone for not huge amounts of money. (Plus if I give her my old one, I can have a new one, right?)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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Now if you'll pardon me, I'm off to pine for the days when I could buy Christmas pudding bibs and elf hats. Thank goodness I have a one year old nephew...</div>
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Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-58656624217036731782015-08-14T10:40:00.001+01:002015-08-14T10:40:59.117+01:00Separation Anxiety<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>The kids have been keeping me awake at night recently. No, they're not babies any more, and no, they haven't been ill. I'm not up doing night feeds or soothing teething. There are not even any night terrors or bed wetting. <br/>
<br/>
The thing is, they've not even been on the house.<br/>
<br/>
We're supposed to be enjoying a week's peace and quiet while they live it up a the nearby centre of a well-known operator of outdoor activity centres, enjoying pursuits such as abseiling, quad-biking and aeroball(?). They've both been there before - more than once- with either school or Brownies, so it should not be a big deal. They are also no strangers to staying away from home overnight with friends and family.<br/>
<br/>
Somehow, however, this feels different. It's the first time we don't know any of the people in charge of looking after them overnight, and we have no real way of contracting them. Even if they had phones off their own (which they don't!), valuables are discouraged and locked away on arrival, and children are actively discouraged from phoning home as it can apparently cause additional homesickness.<br/>
<br/>
All of which of course leaves me at home worrying...<br/>
<br/>
...if they remembered to apply sunscreen when it was sunny...<br/>
<br/>
...if they have got appropriate waterproofs for today's wet weather...<br/>
<br/>
..whether the burgeoning colds they left with have gone...<br/>
<br/>
...whether they got enough sleep...<br/>
<br/>
And finally;<br/>
<br/>
....why I'm turning into my mother...<br/>
<br/>
The answer will present itself when I fetch them tonight. In the meantime, I'm assuming no news has been good news!</div>Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-63234266864563393312015-07-27T20:57:00.003+01:002015-07-27T20:57:33.980+01:00An Open Letter to Children’s Shoe Manufacturers<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dear Shoe Manufacturers,</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t need to tell you that the summer holidays are upon us. For a working parent, this brings with it not rest and relaxation but the additional juggling of different childcare settings in an effort to ensure one’s children are appropriately looked after. Children these days are fickle – they like a reasonable mix of activities. Add that together with a job that involves shuttling up and down the M4 on a vaguely regular basis, and timetables have to be managed with military precision. </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before you think I’m complaining – I’m not. We’ve a few years of it under our belts, and we’re lucky enough to have a choice of good childcare settings that the kids are happy to attend. So, yes, it can be a little stressful sometimes, but it’s nothing compared to another stress that also rears its ugly head at around this time of year. The dreaded Back To School shopping. Or, to be more precise Back To School Shoe Shopping. We all know New School Year = New School Shoes. Just the thought is enough to bring me out in a cold sweat, however. (In fact, I’ve spent the last three days writing this blog post as I’ve had to go for a lie down after every other sentence.)</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nothing in my life is as stressful as school shoe shopping. Nothing. </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clearly, my eldest daughter (despite both looking like me and being close to me in personality), missed the “OMG, I love shoes” gene. However, even my youngest daughter, who has inherited some of her mother’s shoeaholic tendencies, is less than enamoured with this annual torture. </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What is it about school shoes, and specifically those aimed at girls? When it comes to both design and build, they are dire. My children have been known to get through 3 pairs in the space of six weeks in the past. These were not cheap pairs, either. I’ve spent anywhere between £15 and £45 on a single pair of school shoes in desperation, with no discernible difference in durability. In fact, if anything, unscientific experience seems to indicate that the more expensive a pair, the shorter their lifespan. At least with a cheap pair you don’t feel quite so bad about them ending up in the bin every couple of months…</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Whilst boys’ footwear mostly looks like it can withstand a) the British weather, and b) a reasonable amount of rough and tumble, young girls have to make do with dainty open shoes with flimsy straps that are barely better equipped than a sandal for the British autumn. </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I give you my top three gripes:</span></span></div>
<ol style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Open fronts</span></span></div>
</li>
</ol>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7a7YBGfsIxt7Wup9iJDkdTc99YmonAaL0vS6zGkSZGbMGfz33YhpEAtOtanbbe4sbBCLK6h2mNb5OOss0t1hvQKktSPZFQlrqfBIB6K-xkpBmErU7hA20Dc31Mmi3c3_fIbCw8iPHEDU/s1600/IMG_20150727_192900557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7a7YBGfsIxt7Wup9iJDkdTc99YmonAaL0vS6zGkSZGbMGfz33YhpEAtOtanbbe4sbBCLK6h2mNb5OOss0t1hvQKktSPZFQlrqfBIB6K-xkpBmErU7hA20Dc31Mmi3c3_fIbCw8iPHEDU/s320/IMG_20150727_192900557.jpg" width="178" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 22.4888896942139px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It rains quite a lot in this country. Had you noticed? I wonder also if you’ve noticed that wet socks are really quite uncomfortable?</span></span></div>
<ol start="2" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Flimsy Velcro fastenings:</span></span></div>
</li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9aa1eYpFqjofce0MFmPOwMi8l5BsFJYd12jedB2N9gUi3P5jLT7EnRpmTOydUQfB9BF_hbuOgoeIDRQHKoXo99cWJNNQQi5Z2XojzZO99Nbvu6twcdSFf1G9TM8BgCYLgQtn-ULhu_M/s1600/IMG_20150727_192845671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9aa1eYpFqjofce0MFmPOwMi8l5BsFJYd12jedB2N9gUi3P5jLT7EnRpmTOydUQfB9BF_hbuOgoeIDRQHKoXo99cWJNNQQi5Z2XojzZO99Nbvu6twcdSFf1G9TM8BgCYLgQtn-ULhu_M/s320/IMG_20150727_192845671.jpg" width="178" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 22.4888896942139px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">…behold the dreaded silver ring, or the “roulette ring” as it’s known in our house, as we hold our breath to see which gets ripped apart first – the ring, or the…</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thin Soles</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlwC_Rj5GFO3F_MsYEhQx2COdGsLqh-dTZTFJrSPfoJx8btzFV8h6qGQrvH-3k6kffXlrNFLUZ3EWdu-HuQmAvFOGfNdxD32um_Vu-IonUSDXFrrO50p_YWuGMZIh0OPCLgxPzFOKZMQ/s1600/IMG_20150727_194143496_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlwC_Rj5GFO3F_MsYEhQx2COdGsLqh-dTZTFJrSPfoJx8btzFV8h6qGQrvH-3k6kffXlrNFLUZ3EWdu-HuQmAvFOGfNdxD32um_Vu-IonUSDXFrrO50p_YWuGMZIh0OPCLgxPzFOKZMQ/s320/IMG_20150727_194143496_HDR.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 22.4888896942139px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is it just my children that appear to be able to unglue the upper and the sole of a shoe before the term is out? I'm sure the amount we spend on superglue is sending off alarm bells somewhere. (Do kids still sniff glue? Is that even a thing, or have all the new trendy "legal highs" we parents supposedly have to be alarmed about overtaken that habit?)</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, in my desperation, I've even tried persuading my daughters to give "boys' shoes" a try. Peer pressure is stronger than my negotiating skills, however, and the trauma of the teasing I endured as a 12 year old (when my mother bought me what would now, bizarrely be the height of fashion - rounded lace-ups, but in the 80s turned me into a playground pariah when everyone else was wearing pointy slip-ons) remains with me to this day. I'm not brave enough to inflict something similar on my children.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, all is not lost. Last year, for the first year, we struck gold when it came to 50% of the offspring at least. Youngest daughter chose these fab boot-like constructions from M&S:</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLuVPzz1nrSDw8VTG_hVIhhw6uTAd_6JWnXzg-NCoZxJXbf9I40BpSym7_jPsiJvt9oWkaQuDITnNcLZUYKd60uWOYXtwHUf-jEFgkuo7PeUGCjo1cKx3rz4rdo2DFSDCSMo7l8pPsWRw/s1600/IMG_20150727_194113856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLuVPzz1nrSDw8VTG_hVIhhw6uTAd_6JWnXzg-NCoZxJXbf9I40BpSym7_jPsiJvt9oWkaQuDITnNcLZUYKd60uWOYXtwHUf-jEFgkuo7PeUGCjo1cKx3rz4rdo2DFSDCSMo7l8pPsWRw/s320/IMG_20150727_194113856.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-0b47b3c7-d106-2161-a0d0-17bcfdc70676" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nice and enclosed, no roulette ring to worry about, and soles worthy of the name. THEY LASTED A WHOLE SCHOOL YEAR, and even better, it looks like they are selling the same ones this year. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, if the rest of you would just be so kind as to follow their example, I'll be eternally grateful. In the meantime, I'm off to stock up on a pair in every size. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yours, exasperatedly…</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Julie</span></span></div>
Julie Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541550094754392755noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-67771939428865310492015-06-02T22:03:00.000+01:002015-06-02T22:03:25.608+01:00Review; Monster High DollsWe've had post again... No, not the lady in pink- this doll is a whole lot spookier. We've been visited by the g(irl)houls of Monster High- Miss Frankie Stein, to be precise. <br />
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To say this lady is a bit different to other dolls is an understatement. <br />
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"Monster High students embrace their imperfections and celebrate all freaky flaws because that’s what makes you who you are. The school’s motto says it all: Be Yourself. Be Unique. Be a Monster.™ "<br />
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What we liked;<br />
- "OMG, her hair is really silky"<br />
- "I like the funky clothes"<br />
- "It's cool she's not pink"<br />
- "Wow, she can walk like an Egyptian!"<br />
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What wasn't so good;<br />
- "She's really delicate, so I'm just going to stand her on here and not play with her"<br />
(Hmmm)<br />
-"Her clothes are difficult to get on and off "<br />
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<a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiE7ajNAoR5m_G9OEHKENpg7GKfLYnj-3o1m-0CXrT7Eped98fVLeX5bmrQjOI26eCVkDa9rxQzGwm4I0OetTwMWht3_9j0ixkLQmoi4g50VxVWc_tP2ZnZzHQBfE-hcZHhuw1UTzvtnPA/s2560/1433261309344.jpeg' onblur='try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}'><img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiE7ajNAoR5m_G9OEHKENpg7GKfLYnj-3o1m-0CXrT7Eped98fVLeX5bmrQjOI26eCVkDa9rxQzGwm4I0OetTwMWht3_9j0ixkLQmoi4g50VxVWc_tP2ZnZzHQBfE-hcZHhuw1UTzvtnPA/s350/1433261309344.jpeg' style='display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;'/></a><br />
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<a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCxNSBJVuOUgPoVvwebcMVSzmrTQvVv0b2f-Z-2_CeoBg_sfC_3GWDyBTEeVbx5DOCUZIRzF2zatBB9Q0-gs3EC9AyKGCycG13AHL2wc0vd9hEPfymLHnE7jCncP9gGw6KByZPTNVD45i/s2560/1433261346288.jpeg' onblur='try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}'><img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCxNSBJVuOUgPoVvwebcMVSzmrTQvVv0b2f-Z-2_CeoBg_sfC_3GWDyBTEeVbx5DOCUZIRzF2zatBB9Q0-gs3EC9AyKGCycG13AHL2wc0vd9hEPfymLHnE7jCncP9gGw6KByZPTNVD45i/s350/1433261346288.jpeg' style='display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;'/></a><br />
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<a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rog29_cO4Ypwt99HWnMmbLvDk2ljrO-dtALGD7CGB120CINkew3HpLqYfyiCsAQyVzmiCWYOzDhxNdkZ3iWEYo5VtJlS1fwzgyse9aXTyBvhjMVA4dNvqk6epXyeDwK0ENZ1BH_eejmq/s2560/1433261353799.jpeg' onblur='try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}'><img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rog29_cO4Ypwt99HWnMmbLvDk2ljrO-dtALGD7CGB120CINkew3HpLqYfyiCsAQyVzmiCWYOzDhxNdkZ3iWEYo5VtJlS1fwzgyse9aXTyBvhjMVA4dNvqk6epXyeDwK0ENZ1BH_eejmq/s350/1433261353799.jpeg' style='display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;'/></a><br />
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<a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhTs5bKgKNaazkpc2-QEpMG9Deq9TfPObcXaopICj4P2m5KIZ7KCETT_4tjfliGzrzqNtqedZyYvBDPyan6GVUSeS8k8BNshhwaCtLufAMGNQ8ngHugij4Cm714bzrR_GtgPx6RKfJc9j/s2560/1433261362914.jpeg' onblur='try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}'><img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhTs5bKgKNaazkpc2-QEpMG9Deq9TfPObcXaopICj4P2m5KIZ7KCETT_4tjfliGzrzqNtqedZyYvBDPyan6GVUSeS8k8BNshhwaCtLufAMGNQ8ngHugij4Cm714bzrR_GtgPx6RKfJc9j/s350/1433261362914.jpeg' style='display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;'/></a><br />
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(Posted on my phone as our pc is out of action, hence rather wonky, sorry.. There's a whole post there about IT issues in the modern world)Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-84805252910699929382015-03-26T14:26:00.001+00:002015-03-26T14:29:06.274+00:00The Blue Jeans Blues<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
I went shopping for jeans recently. This is something I've been meaning to do for a long time, but have been putting off for as long as possible. Much as I enjoy the odd spot of retail therapy, shopping for jeans is a completely different kettle of fish. Unfortunately, I spend way too much time in jeans to get away with not buying a new pair every couple of years.<br />
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So, with the kids at my parents for an impromptu afternoon, it seemed like an opportunity that was too good to miss. If there is one thing I don't want to do while squeezing my thighs in and out of denim, it's have the kids dragging along. So far, so good.<br />
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In an ideal world, I would find my perfect pair, and simply buy the same ones every couple of years. The problem is that it just doesn't work like that. For starters, fashion does not pass the humble blue Jean by. For years, the trusty boot cut was my cut of choice. I blame Trinny and Susanna - apparently it had something to do with "balancing out" my childbearing hips. It seemed to work well for me in the days before children and sensible heel heights.<br />
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However, the humble bootcut made its way into the fashion wilderness, and (despite the occasional rumbling that this might be the year it returns to favoured status) that has been where it has stayed, usurped recently by the "skinny jean". The main problem with the "skinny" jean being that they don't instantly make you skinny, but instead assume you are waif-like to start with.<br />
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Good news, therefore, for those of is with the aforementioned childbearing hips as the "boyfriend" jean made its way into the scene. A looser, more flattering cut. Allegedly. <br />
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Now, what I don't understand about the boyfriend jean is why they are only apparently designed for people under five ft. Surely, the whole idea behind this cut is that they originated from women wearing their boyfriend's jeans (the clue is in the name?). Now, what I want to know why are the legs on these things so short?! Are all British boyfriends secretly blessed with the inside leg measurement of a 12 year old? It's just not logical, captain. And don't get me started on "girlfriend" jeans, which are apparently now also a thing.<br />
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It's all too difficult, if you ask me.<br />
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Which is why I'm now on my 3rd pair of "curvy straight" from The Gap. Middle aged jeans. Still, even that decision wasn't as easy as I might have hoped for. Why do manufacturers insist on fiddling with their sizing so much? Just when I thought I'd got all that American sizing lark sussed, it's gone and changed again. <br />
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So, yes, I have purchased 3 pairs of Gap's finest "curvy straight" over the years. I personally have not gained or lost a huge amount of weight in those years. The first pair (long since relegated to gardening only status) still for perfectly well. As do the second and the third. Between them, however, I am wearing what is supposed to be the exact same style in 3 (THREE) different dress sizes.<br />
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The nonsensical thing that the latest pair are supposedly a "size zero". No, I didn't believe it either. Exhibit A:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ItqW1DxkeU0Gf2Y_W6KLvUk7DwnXKPRHzO9D-RRAG9edVDHrv6fbA_l9ACm4B6B3TWYrNM__NNBwFXwuK4ul6QHd_andQAhYaCuiaHXI-pvkW0CJVemxNf2Oy0xNFQpRHRmuzRlXNqpK/s2560/1427379999388.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ItqW1DxkeU0Gf2Y_W6KLvUk7DwnXKPRHzO9D-RRAG9edVDHrv6fbA_l9ACm4B6B3TWYrNM__NNBwFXwuK4ul6QHd_andQAhYaCuiaHXI-pvkW0CJVemxNf2Oy0xNFQpRHRmuzRlXNqpK/s350/1427379999388.jpeg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
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Now, Victoria Beckham is a size zero. Kate Moss is a size zero. I'm definitely not a size zero and probably haven't been since that horrible stomach bug in 1999. <br />
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You're not fooling anyone with this nonsense, Mr Gap. I therefore beg you: stop messing with my jeans.<br />
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Just. Stop.</div>
Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-2680972811568366812015-03-23T19:42:00.001+00:002015-03-23T19:42:17.789+00:00Testing testing 1,2,3...<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>I've not blogged in so long, even my husband has noticed. The weird thing is that my drafts are littered with good ideas and good intentions. <br/>
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The problem with spending a lot of my day at work in front of a PC is that doing so in my spare time is the last thing I want to do. <br/>
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I'm therefore just trying out various different apps that might help me blog "on the run". <br/>
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If I find the perfect one, you'll be the first to know about it. Until then, there's nothing to see here... Go on, move along<br/><p style='font-size: xx-small' align='right'>posted from <a href='https://market.android.com/details?id=pl.przemelek.android.blogger'>Bloggeroid</a></p></div>Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-91482168957870746002015-01-10T16:46:00.000+00:002015-01-10T16:46:07.188+00:00Sans Titre<div dir="ltr">
I have in my drafts a blog post I was going to publish about now, loosely based on our New Year skiing holiday in La Rosiere, and detailing my best tips for a family ski holiday. I may still publish that post, but it won't be today.</div>
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In a case of best laid plans, I've had to hastily throw that post out of the virtual window and instead post this one, the various potential titles of which might also be;</div>
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<i>"The one in which I cheat death on a French motorway"</i></div>
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<i>"What do the Tins have in common with the Windsors?"</i></div>
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or, simply:</div>
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<i>"Always wear a fucking seatbelt"</i></div>
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We had a wonderful week's skiing, sunshine, good food, good wine and fabulous company. We were sad to be going home.We got on the coach in La Rosiere just before 7a.m. last Sunday morning, with the kids excited that it was a double-decker coach, and installed ourselves across the four very front seats on the top deck, and headed off on our way down the winding mountain roads in the dark. I dozed fitfully, always conscious of the precarious nature of our travel, and breathed a small sigh of relief when we reached the bottom and our journey would hopefully be more straightforward, and I did eventually drop off to sleep. I woke up again around 8.30 when we stopped at a rest-stop and various people got off to go to the toilet.</div>
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We continued on our way, and I remember marvelling at the fact that there was no traffic whatsoever to be seen on the straight two-lane motorway. When we therefore slowly but surely started moving from the outside lane towards the middle around 10 minutes later, things immediately seemed odd.The coach struck the central reservation and then, just as slowly and surely headed back to the outside of the motorway. Alarm bells immediately started ringing, and I remember someone shouting "hold tight" when, sure enough, we hit the barrier on the outside of the motorway. After scraping along it for a couple of seconds, it obviously broke, and the coach started ploughing down the gentle muddly slope next to the carriageway. Almost in slow motion, the vehicle leaned towards the right and fell onto its side, accompanied by the sound of glass shattering and people screaming.. </div>
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Sitting on the far left, I was now being held sideways by my seat-belt, desperately holding onto my youngest daughter who was sat next to me.My husband and elder daughter, who had been sat on the right of the coach and were now therefore on the "bottom", undid their seat-belts and helped us do the same so that we could climb down. Having reassured ourselves that the friends we had been travelling with were ok, we proceeded to try and find a way out. Smashing the window closest to us with the emergency hammer didn't have much effect, but a shout from the back indicated that the rear window was passable. We therefore gingerly made our way down the coach, trying to avoid stepping on panes of glass as we went. </div>
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Outside, the scene was chaotic, with adults and children crying and bleeding. In a stroke of luck, a private ambulance had been passing and stopped to administer first aid to those that seemed most seriously injured.It appeared, however, that everyone had managed to walk out of the coach - surely helped by two factors, the speed and location of the accident, and the fact we had all been wearing seat-belts (an opinion reinforced later to me by several staff in the hospital who kept telling us "thank God you weren't French - they wouldn't have been strapped in!"). </div>
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How long it took for the fire brigade and ambulances to arrive is a bit of a blur, and at first their approach seemed a little disorganised, with several people asking the same questions. Eventually a bit of a system became obvious, with injuries being classified in a traffic light system of green - not injured yellow - minor injuries, red - serious injuries. The only visible injury to my family was a large bump on my eldest daughter's face, however, she looked very pale and her legs suddenly buckled under her, slumping into the arms of the nearest fireman. She was promptly laid out on the floor on a makeshift stretcher with her legs in the air, and covered with blankets, before being carried very gingerly back up to the slope into a waiting ambulance.</div>
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It was whilst trying to follow her up the slope that I realised that trying to bend my left leg had suddenly become extremely painful, causing me to be reclassified from a "green" to a "yellow". Whilst we were therefore transported to the local hospital, my husband and youngest daughter (both being "greens") were taken to a local community centre where they were looked after by the local community.</div>
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Once at the hospital, it became apparent that I was the only injured person on the coach who could speak passable French. Whilst my daughter was therefore taken away to be x-rayed (and fed!), I was called in to "help the police with their inquiries", giving both my own statement, and helping with the translation of one or two others, before being x-rayed myself. </div>
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Having both been given the all-clear and pain relief, we were taken to a small room with other "survivors", where food and drink and children's games had been laid on. Also there was a representative from the tour operator, who was in contact with the group in the community centre. Having missed our flight back to the UK (Southampton), it seemed that there was a very small chance that we might be able to catch the last flight out - to Stansted.</div>
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In very dramatic fashion therefore, several families were reunited - a police escort accompanying the coach from the community centre first to the hospital, where we got on, then on to the airport. This involved one police car in front of the coach stopping all traffic with "blues and twos" as we passed, with two police cars bringing up the rear. "This is just like when the Queen goes anywhere!", as no1 daughter remarked.</div>
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The rest of the journey was stressful, if actually unremarkable, and we eventually got home around midnight, only around eight hours later than planned.We all took Monday off to recover, but by Tuesday the kids were back at school, and I went in on Wednesday. The muscles I pulled in my waist and neck have been gradually getting better every day, and all bruising has faded from angry purple through moss green to putrid yellow.Whether the mind will bear any lasting effects remains to be seen - needless to say, the thought of going on a coach any time soon isn't one I would cherish, and I'm still struggling a little with trying NOT to think of what could have been.</div>
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Needless to say we are all very, very, very lucky and very thankful we just walked away. In fact, so undramatic were the injuries overall that the accident barely made the British press, bar a short mention on the Guardian website, followed by a slightly longer piece on the <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2897144/Seven-people-treated-hospital-coach-returning-34-British-tourists-skiing-holiday-French-Alps-overturns-motorway.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Daily Mail</a> (sorry!) website. French local TV did of course do a couple of pieces, which are online <a href="http://www.leparisien.fr/faits-divers/savoie-embouteillages-apres-un-accident-de-car-sur-l-a43-04-01-2015-4418087.php#xtref=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.co.uk%2F" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here </a>and <a href="http://france3-regions.francetvinfo.fr/alpes/2015/01/04/un-autocar-anglais-se-couche-sur-l-a43-en-savoie-623672.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a> (both containing a starring role for the back of youngest daughter's head in the arms of a French fireman).</div>
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A thousand thanks to the folk at <a href="http://www.espritski.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Esprit Ski</a> for the VIP treatment (yes, despite everything, we're thinking of booking again for next year), and all the unnamed French firefighters, paramedics, doctors, nurses and gendarmes - who were all singularly brilliant. </div>
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Most of all, however, thanks goes to whoever it was that decided that Sunday 4th January wasn't going to be the day that our time was up. </div>
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Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-85626587019822297642014-12-11T20:35:00.001+00:002014-12-11T20:35:26.465+00:00I'm dreaming of a serene ChristmasI love Christmas, I really do. I'm not one of these people that starts putting up decorations in mid-November, but I do love the build up, the preparation and the twinkly lights.<br />
<br />
This year, however, Christmas has me seriously stressed. Stressed in the sense of waking at odd times of the night unable to go back to sleep because my mind is in overdrive. Stressed about the food. Stressed about the presents (or current lack thereof). Stressed about family demands.<br />
<br />
It doesn't help that work is about to go through a ridiculously busy period that sees me scheduled to work right up to Christmas Eve (for only the second time in my entire life). Add to that the fact that we have to pack for a ski holiday and for having our hall ceiling replaced as soon as we get back, and my to do list is permanently smouldering around the edges.<br />
<br />
I'm partly reassured by conversations with others who are feeling similarly frazzled (is this year really different to others, or is it just a coincidence that I'm not alone in feeling like this?).<br />
<br />
Part of the problem of course is that this year contrasts markedly with last year, when I was unemployed and had copious amounts of time to make wreaths, contemplate gifts and prepare food.<br />
<br />
Thank goodness, then, for a rare half day off and the (now annual) trip to Bath Christmas market with the lovely Chris. She knows <a href="http://www.thinlyspread.co.uk/" target="_blank">how to do Christmas properly</a>, that's for sure. So, thank you Chris for reminding me that Christmas can also be about slowing down and enjoying what's around you.<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas....<br />
<br />
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Julie Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541550094754392755noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-20848013047755104662014-11-23T17:01:00.002+00:002014-11-23T17:01:51.481+00:00A magic carpet ride?First off-whilst this is technically a review, it's not sponsored in any way. No sir - I voluntarily paid £150 of my very own money to spend an hour on a glorified travelator in an industrial unit somewhere east of Reading.<br />
<br />
Let me explain...<br />
<br />
You see, we're going skiing again. Soon. Very soon.It's been two years since we last went, and frankly, my husband and I are worried that this is the year the kids outdo us and leave us for dust. Well, powder. We're therefore Doing Something About It.This involves a strenuous and tedious exercise regime to get a vague semblance of ski fitness into those over-40-and-feeling-it legs of ours. Jillian Michaels - we hate and salute you and your 30 Day Shred equally.<br />
<br />
Jumping up and down in your living room three times a week is one thing, but it doesn't really help with the real ski practice. Which is why we found ourselves driving down the M4 on a wet Sunday afternoon last week.<br />
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They've tried their best to bring the Alpine spirit into a somewhat un-Alpine space:<br />
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<br />
...but really, we weren't here for the decor. We'd booked an hour's "family time" on the basis it would let all four of us have a go unfettered by other people. Whilst £150 sounds like a lot, on a per person basis it works out roughly the same as a half-hour lesson each. (Have I mentioned skiing ain't cheap yet?).<br />
<br />
We arrived about 20 minutes before our session, as instructed, and were pretty much left to our own devices - the kids made the most of the trampoline that was set up in the corner and we mooched about the ski shop. With 5 minutes to go, and no sign of anyone giving us any instruction, we picked out what we thought were the right size ski boots for the kids, and got them to put them on, as well as donning our own. Five minutes after our allocated start time, we had to remind someone that we were waiting, and we were finally given some guidance as to which skis we needed. In the end, the previous people using our "slope" finally vacated it, and we were good to go around 10 minutes later than booked. Not a great start.<br />
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Each slope can only take 3 people at a time, so adults and kids had two alternating fifteen minute slots each.<br />
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I have to say I found it the most bizarre experience, and it certainly took a lot of getting used to the idea of standing still while the ground did all the moving. The general idea is that you turn side to side, effectively skiing on the spot, but this is easier said than done. Despite all being able to ski more or less parallel, none of us managed to get much beyond a basic snow plough position - even Mr Tin, who has been skiing for 30 years... As our instructor said; "If you can ski on this, you can ski on snow", and I'm certainly hoping that we'll have moved on once we do get on the powdery stuff!<br />
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Having said this, we all found it to a worthwhile session, which really helped focus on technique and general fitness. While it is expensive, we are seriously thinking about doing it again before we hit the slopes, as Skiplex are running a special offer on family sessions in December. Whether we will or not remains to be seen, as it is still a LOT of money. Anything that helps with a bit of confidence and technique to get the best out of our actual week's skiing has to be a good thing though.<br />
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<br />Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-75952687717404970772014-11-07T20:50:00.001+00:002014-11-09T09:12:33.413+00:0025 years ago today<p dir="ltr">There are certain events in history that turn out to be those "where were you when" times. They are the events so momentous that you can almost feel the world shifting on its axis.</p>
<p dir="ltr">For example, I always remember my mother telling me she could remember exactly where she was when she heard that JFK had been killed, or when Neil Armstrong first stepped on the moon.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I was always slightly jealous about this collective memory of the older generation- an instant talking point that bound people of a certain age together. </p>
<p dir="ltr">In my lifetime, those two events of life-changing proportion happened on a sunny September in 2001, and 12 years earlier on a grey November. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I was on a trip back from Finland when the first inklings came. A group of 20 or so teenagers from the town I was living in visiting our twin town in the frozen North. For cost reasons we made the trip from West Germany to northern Finland by train. Leverkusen, Cologne, Hamburg, Copenhagen, Stockholm, Helsinki, Oulu, and back again.</p>
<p dir="ltr">A discarded copy of USA Today at Copenhagen train station while we waited for our connection home - "East Germans flood foreign embassies". Prague and Budapest, that was where they were congregating.</p>
<p dir="ltr">By the time we reached <u>home</u>, momentum was building every day. German TV channels seemed to have turned into rolling news channels when this was a concept previously only known to CNN. My history teacher threw out all mention of a curriculum and wheeled a TV into the classroom. " Das, Kinder, DAS ist Geschichte!"</p>
<p dir="ltr">I confess I had to look up what day of the week that 9th November eventually was. A Thursday, <u>apparently</u>. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Ask my husband, and he'll tell you he was hungover on a sofa in an Israeli Kibbutz when the wall eventually came down. I'm afraid my moment isn't quite as glamorous as it too was a sofa, but just that of my parents, at home in what was still West Germany. Now it's just Germany of course, and the cold war seems to have been replaced by another menace. It's easy to be slightly depressed by mankind's apparent inability to learn from history. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Today, therefore I'm remembering a time when peace seemed possible. Here's to hope.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Herzlichen Glückwunsch, Deutschland.<br></p>
Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-35104364004628327162014-08-11T21:33:00.000+01:002014-08-11T21:33:33.681+01:00Random holiday rambling, August 2014Things I have learnt on holiday;<br />
<br />
1) Cockroach poo looks remarkably like mouse poo. It's also weirdly crunchy.<br />
2) An upset stomach is still the best bikini diet, but it doesn't help shake off that pale and pasty, 'just arrived' look<br />
3) Either "Jingle Bell Rock" is no longer classed as a Christmas record, or Paphos, 3rd August 2014 sets a new record for inappropriate festive cheer on the radio...<br />
4) No matter what age the children, parenting is spending 99% of your time trying to keep them quiet to avoid annoying other people.<br />
5) In a classic tale of middle class woes, my children do not know how to work a simple pop-up toaster. After all, everyone we know has a Dualit. Oh, the shame.<br />
6) Speaking of shame, I can't help thinking that if you are going to have a large tattoo of what appears to be a bull with giant horns in between and over your breasts, and then sunbathe topless, it looks a bit odd if you suddenly go all shy and start walking around with you hands covering your boobs. No. Not talking about myself, for the avoidance of doubt.<br />
<br />
Things that I already knew, but have been reinforced;<br />
<br />
7) I'm really, really not built for tanning or sunbathing, and never will be.<br />
8) A "meze" platter always seems like a good idea when contemplating a menu with an empty stomach, but it will only inevitably end in wasted food and the knowledge of what a Christmas turkey must feel like. A bit like the Mediterranean equivalent of a"meal for two " at a Chinese takeaway.<br />
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9) Nice as it is to go "offline" for a period of time, it is becoming increasingly difficult to live without internet access, especially when life necessitates the researching of cockroach poo.<br />
10) It's always good to be reminded that swimwear is a great leveller. (See also 6, above)Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-75402312557325173512014-07-30T18:02:00.003+01:002014-07-30T18:02:57.575+01:00Dear Carol...<div dir="ltr">
<br />
Dear Carol,<br />
<br />
I think my husband may be on to me. Since having my hair cut on Saturday, he has twice remarked on the resemblance of my style to yours – to quote him “Your hair has definitely got that woman from Episodes things going on. You know the one I mean”. This is serious. For all his positive qualities, he is not normally well known for his powers of observation.<br />
<br />
The thing is, I am now at a stage where I am ready to take things a step further. I blame the weather. You see, living in a relatively temperate climate, where temperatures do not normally fluctuate too wildly, I have never really had a great need for different seasonal wardrobes. This year, however, our unusually hot summer means I am no longer able to just wear what I wear all year round, and I need to adapt.<br />
<br />
I know I’ll never quite manage the perfect six-pack or brilliant white teeth of a single American career gal, but I feel I need to be more aspirational in my business dress. For it’s true, my work wardrobe is looking dated, and I am wishing to import your brand of easy-yet-formal-hot weather-LA-chic to darkest Wiltshire. The whole slightly-harassed-and-sweaty-working-mother look is one, which, quite frankly, I feel I am starting to tire of.<br />
<br />
Therefore, while there are certain elements of your lifestyle I have no wish to emulate (recreational drug use has never been my thing, and, nice as he is, I have never felt any desire to sleep with my boss), I find myself more and more frequently asking myself WHAT WOULD CAROL WEAR.<br />
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The problem is, I know you’d probably wear this:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWckpricb5c9yOD676lhcxrOVXCUFBjoVjI9eja8e4ywKipHLqmdFRq3MHTKv9YN5bucU4lGUmbrveWOsqRDRXG8rjuITuEa74DLDvoO-jCVi_-6rG5ve91F9Yi1AwI9Y1zW0JK9ydsFw4/s1600/1860_391_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWckpricb5c9yOD676lhcxrOVXCUFBjoVjI9eja8e4ywKipHLqmdFRq3MHTKv9YN5bucU4lGUmbrveWOsqRDRXG8rjuITuEa74DLDvoO-jCVi_-6rG5ve91F9Yi1AwI9Y1zW0JK9ydsFw4/s1600/1860_391_1.jpg" height="320" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.meandem.com/collection/sale/halterneck-jumpsuit-navy-/-white/products_id/1860/cPath/1153_1154_1180" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
And, as we all know, there is NO WAY sensible to me will ever wear a jumpsuit. I'm therefore thankful that you're off my screen for a while. I will miss you though.<br />
<br />
But I'll miss your wardrobe more.<br />
<br />
Yours infatuatedly,<br />
Julie</div>
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<img src="http://thenypost.files.wordpress.com/2014/01/kathleen.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></div>
Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-82011653582477312172014-07-01T18:34:00.001+01:002014-07-01T18:34:50.155+01:00Review - Yuu bagsI'm sure sometimes my kids think I'm the world's most backward parent - I don't even pretend to know what's "cool" with kids these days, I've always gone on the philosophy that a) it's probably not aimed at me anyway, b) I'll think it's pointless, and c) the next big thing will be along soon enough anyway.<br />
<br />
Yuu bags, however, are cool(*). Apparently. I therefore got parenting brownie points when one popped through my door for us to review.<br />
<br />
To be fair, it didn't really pop. These things are pretty bulky, and pretty sturdy.<br />
<br />
A Yuu bag, for the uninitiated, is a "desk in a rucksack", which comes with a free fun pack, and is ergonomically designed for young backs. So far, so good. But what did we think of it?<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1E2kYlUjwOAi12iVYh6oXRxSGcSNWNS4jhjaSKAXTlTN9zzAg1uthqSvQKwTWBdOQFGzX2-3aUlohTKqnSwgJrMS11UL_jAK2ivW6ZdxietVvLNE-b4cGJlslspUu5p9Xc26SismR55Cl/s1600/IMG_20140530_104242465.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1E2kYlUjwOAi12iVYh6oXRxSGcSNWNS4jhjaSKAXTlTN9zzAg1uthqSvQKwTWBdOQFGzX2-3aUlohTKqnSwgJrMS11UL_jAK2ivW6ZdxietVvLNE-b4cGJlslspUu5p9Xc26SismR55Cl/s1600/IMG_20140530_104242465.jpg" height="320" width="178" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-OC-1nmzkiArX7Opu7Mq-DVD9jjCoOmpfjbEeB0JMRDjJXxGhmmWlbEPctwXEwlMrHdKtWQDlHGYmOhAU5T5EXnp2j1GQuPIyXGMhFTI79FhAOk4XviB-OE2Ah9r7RznhrYXNQDqxSwO/s1600/IMG_20140530_104226701.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-OC-1nmzkiArX7Opu7Mq-DVD9jjCoOmpfjbEeB0JMRDjJXxGhmmWlbEPctwXEwlMrHdKtWQDlHGYmOhAU5T5EXnp2j1GQuPIyXGMhFTI79FhAOk4XviB-OE2Ah9r7RznhrYXNQDqxSwO/s1600/IMG_20140530_104226701.jpg" height="320" width="178" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEileG9bthtaBL_X-Sk-u_I27L-bl8cpPreF4EGIE5IarDrVk39lLZqw8IJJ_br8HyMWK2TeslNNliX77SEWhh4Nefme0qUtdel55CV_cBZ21idTT9_ABlg6rHkCVGeeKlbEOuMKkXDV11Va/s1600/IMG_20140530_104406737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEileG9bthtaBL_X-Sk-u_I27L-bl8cpPreF4EGIE5IarDrVk39lLZqw8IJJ_br8HyMWK2TeslNNliX77SEWhh4Nefme0qUtdel55CV_cBZ21idTT9_ABlg6rHkCVGeeKlbEOuMKkXDV11Va/s1600/IMG_20140530_104406737.jpg" height="400" width="221" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We liked:<br />
- the fact that, considering its bulk, it's actually pretty lightweight<br />
- it fits lots of essentials inside it<br />
- the straps are nicely padded and wide, which makes it relatively comfortable to wear<br />
- the little "desk" seems to work nicely and<br />
- it has lots of little nooks and crannies for keeping treasured possessions safe<br />
- it's great for travel, and the little activity pack kept the kids very amused on a long car journey:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5LC5mVLWWwDHL6W7t3-QWDWHWMmAQen6XemrvYbfDOZ1MLdklnyC3Fy811QWneXmuydmPxZ32ZYjnAt6HeswGALpSHJaiM27FNsYttDkBpkBmkVcvoecZFC7EuoAjCn1KeX7GQNzoO_1u/s1600/IMG_20140530_141718135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5LC5mVLWWwDHL6W7t3-QWDWHWMmAQen6XemrvYbfDOZ1MLdklnyC3Fy811QWneXmuydmPxZ32ZYjnAt6HeswGALpSHJaiM27FNsYttDkBpkBmkVcvoecZFC7EuoAjCn1KeX7GQNzoO_1u/s1600/IMG_20140530_141718135.jpg" height="400" width="221" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
What wasn't so good:<br />
<br />
- the zip was slightly tricky for the kids to do up by themselves on occasion<br />
- its bulk is both a pro and a con - great for getting stuff in, but can also get heavy based on how many books they shove inside!<br />
- apparently the pattern (lobsters? ants? we couldn't really decide) was "freaky", but I suspect that may just be a taste thing...<br />
<br />
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Yuu bags retail at around £43, which seems like a lot to me for a children's backpack. However, after a couple of weeks of use, it still looks as sturdy as ever, which is a good sign for my children, so I do think it will last. I certainly think it will get a decent amount of use for travelling!<br />
<br />
________________<br />
<br />
(*all claims correct at time of writing only and may be subject to the changing fickleness of 9 year old girls)Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-65301945494744916902014-06-17T19:31:00.001+01:002014-06-26T21:47:23.527+01:00Free CV advice<p dir="ltr">I'm recruiting at work at the moment- not just for one post, but two. It's amazing how much time it takes up when you're also trying to do a day job, which explains my general lack of online presence. Anyway, after many, many years of firing, it's really, really nice to actually be hiring again, so I'm definitely not complaining.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Having been in the job seeking game myself relatively recently, it's also kind of weird to see the other side of the equation.</p>
<p dir="ltr">When I was made redundant, I was incredibly lucky that my old employer gave me access to the services of an outplacement company, with a very lovely lady called Mary who cajoled me, gave me great advice and, perhaps most importantly, ripped my CV apart and helped me build it back up again to land my current job.</p>
<p dir="ltr">However, not all job seekers are lucky enough to have a Mary looking out for them, and for some that's glaringly obvious.</p>
<p dir="ltr">What started off in my head as a somewhat sarcastic post about the benefits of spell check has therefore morphed into something that I hope might be of help, especially those at the beginning of the greasy career pole. Here, therefore, my tips if you want a head start for a job with me:</p>
<p dir="ltr">1) Spell check is your friend. I know, I know, this wasn't supposed to be a snarky post about poor grammar and punctuation, however,  the squiggly lines in MS Word are there for a reason. Use them. </p>
<p dir="ltr">2) Spell check is your enemy. Yes, I'm contradicting myself. The thing is, while spell check will pick up obvious mistakes, it won't help you with the times you've used the wrong word completely. Do you really mean you have a friendly manor? Were you really a team manger? And if you don't know the difference between effect and affect (and I confess I've had to look it up plenty of times), a dictionary can be handy. Or, yaknow, Google. Another pair of trusted eyes can often be a Godsend with this one.</p>
<p dir="ltr">3) Employment history usually goes backwards. Jumping from present to past to present again is REALLY confusing for somebody reading it.</p>
<p dir="ltr">4) On a similar note, be clear about which tense you are using. Current tense is fine if you're talking about what you're doing at the moment, but sounds odd when you're talking about the student job you had in 1998.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Which leads me on to...</p>
<p dir="ltr">5) It's OK to shorten older stuff if it's not relevant to what you're doing now....</p>
<p dir="ltr">...because...</p>
<p dir="ltr">6) it's generally best to keep it short. Whilst there are exceptions, 2 pages is still generally ideal. I've had over 30 applications for one job alone, and if you ramble on, I'm afraid you've lost me at page 3, so frankly pages 4 and 5 are just a waste of ink and paper. </p>
<p dir="ltr">However,</p>
<p dir="ltr">7) that doesn't mean you should use really, really small font squashed ridiculously closely together in order to keep to the two page limit. I'm not as young as I used to be and squinting gives me a headache.</p>
<p dir="ltr">8) Also, swapping fonts halfway through doesn't look interesting and modern, it just looks careless and confused.</p>
<p dir="ltr">9) Write your name at the top of page 1 and make it <i><b>BIG</b></i>. It'll ensure I get your name right if you do make it to interview.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Oh, and finally, do try and get my name right if we finally get to meet. Repeatedly calling me Janet when I've already corrected you probably isn't the best way to impress a potential employer.</p>
<p dir="ltr">It's not that hard, really... Good luck!</p>
Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-1844919430611600012014-03-22T18:48:00.001+00:002014-03-22T18:49:19.965+00:00Two months in (selected) tweetsRight. This work lark ain't particularly conducive to blogging. Who knew? Still, as I do occasionally send out the odd random tweet, I thought I'd use this medium to bring you up to speed. I know, I know, it's cheating, but Mr Tin has been complaining that this is the only medium through which he finds out what I'm up to.<br />
<br />
First off, the usual new job jitters:<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
I only hope new job won't involve making too many decisions, as it's taken entire w/e to work out what to wear on 1st day (still undecided).<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/427519047073533952">January 26, 2014</a></blockquote>
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Even 10 years on you can still rely on an office sleaze to message with a totally inappropriate message via Linkedin re new job...<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/428595278258913281">January 29, 2014</a></blockquote>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Hoping new colleagues are not into practical jokes, and meant it when they said Fridays are dress down...<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/429166961789259776">January 31, 2014</a></blockquote>
...then we have the early false sense of security and annoying smugness (pride comes before a fall, they say...):<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
I an on a train. I now feel like a proper working person again.<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/430740735470886912">February 4, 2014</a></blockquote>
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Every single pair of work trousers I own appears to suddenly be too big. Excuse to eat more cream cakes, or go shopping...?<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/431332018585358336">February 6, 2014</a></blockquote>
Yeah. Jinxed it.<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
I may have confidently declared that we were "getting in a good routine" yesterday. Famous last words so sick child throws spanner...<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/433303560995229696">February 11, 2014</a></blockquote>
Still, it's good to see I've still got my priorities right:<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Baftas, Shmaftas. I'm more excited at the prospect of tonight's episode of <a href="https://twitter.com/search?q=%23TheArchers&src=hash">#TheArchers</a><br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/435114755913940992">February 16, 2014</a></blockquote>
By week 3, I'm starting to definitely feel more at home in the new job:<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Am the only person in my bit of the office today. There are no social norms holding me back from raiding the communal biscuit tin.<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/436066299790512129">February 19, 2014</a></blockquote>
...and my colleagues' little foibles are as familiar as those of my family:<br />
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
There's a bloke sat at the next desk CRUNCHING boiled sweets so loudly I've had to come and hide in the toilets. (cc <a href="https://twitter.com/jenwen12">@jenwen12</a>) <a href="https://twitter.com/search?q=%23misophonia&src=hash">#misophonia</a><br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/436878457583456256">February 21, 2014</a></blockquote>
...whilst I soon find that work not only gets in the way of blogging, but also Twitter itself:<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Twitter needs a 'Births, Marriages, Deaths' section for those of us who don't have time to tweet as often as we used to...<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/437917229435596800">February 24, 2014</a></blockquote>
...and there are other annoyances to being back at work:<br />
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
HMRC have just sent me my 4th tax code for 2014/15. I hope I get a pen or something with my 5th.<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/438356454886875137">February 25, 2014</a></blockquote>
...such as those "novelty days" at my children's school:<br />
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
This coming week fills me with dread. Whose idea was it to have Shrove Tuesday and World Book Day in one week, hmmm?<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/440195801319747585">March 2, 2014</a></blockquote>
...and the odd commute. "<i>L'Enfer, c'est les autres"(*)</i>.<br />
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Somebody on this train is eating Quavers and it is KILLING me.<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/440895418189484032">March 4, 2014</a></blockquote>
The thing is, I normally like food. A lot. But I guess I wasn't really feeling it. Who knew the humble pancake could cause such strife?<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
F'ing pancakes<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/440920280006139904">March 4, 2014</a></blockquote>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Daughters have been recreating the Crimean conflict tonight. With the part of Crimea played by a pancake pan.<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/440938752031346688">March 4, 2014</a></blockquote>
Things then went from bad to worse:<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Effing World Book Day. 😠<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/441475979538862080">March 6, 2014</a></blockquote>
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Dear colleagues; I promise I DID try and shower, but there's no bloody hot water.<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/441478428249063424">March 6, 2014</a></blockquote>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
I think it's fair to say today is not going well.<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/441478831573319680">March 6, 2014</a></blockquote>
Do I really moan that much? I guess I do...<br />
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
I swear Sainsbury's have changed the formulation of their toilet roll. "Super soft", my (ouchie) arse.<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/442930409052327936">March 10, 2014</a></blockquote>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Hosiery of less than 10 denier might as well just be classified as "disposable".<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/443344876303032320">March 11, 2014</a></blockquote>
Yep. Still doing the rubbish mother bit:<br />
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
French day at school tomorrow. Kids want to go as Marie Curie, Simone de Beauvoir or Joan of Arc. Am compromising with a beret and stripes.<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/444170762157850624">March 13, 2014</a></blockquote>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Have spent the evening at my first school disco in over 20 years. Was just as awkward and sweaty as I remembered it. But with a bar.<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/444581436059054080">March 14, 2014</a></blockquote>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
...and the rubbish housewife bit.<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
I reckon that missing plane is in the same place as my pillow cases. <a href="https://twitter.com/search?q=%23BermudaTriangle&src=hash">#BermudaTriangle</a><br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/445229300439339008">March 16, 2014</a></blockquote>
Not forgetting the rubbish working woman bit:<br />
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
It's nice being in a building with more women than I've been used to, but I miss the days I could hide away in the ladies' toilets...<br />
— Julie (@SardineTin) <a href="https://twitter.com/SardineTin/statuses/445604620443062272">March 17, 2014</a></blockquote>
So, all in all, no real change. Life is busy, and generally good, although reliable hot water would make it even better.<br />
<br />
_____________________<br />
<br />
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
(*roughly translated as "Hell is other people", Jean-Paul Sartre)<br />
<br />
<br />
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-2566960012498213112014-01-24T09:46:00.002+00:002014-01-24T09:46:34.635+00:00Things I'm going to miss when back at workSo this is it, the day of reckoning. The last day of officially being unemployed, for yes, I do indeed start a new job on Monday. Having resigned myself to the fact that the recruitment process always takes longer than perhaps would be ideal, I envisaged having another couple of weeks before being in this position. Yet I am going from initial interview to first day in less than two weeks. Whilst this is obviously a Good Thing, it has left me a tad shell-shocked and panicked about getting all those things on my list done that I have been dragging out for the best part of four months...<br />
<br />
It will also be the first time that I will be working properly "full time" since before having children, and I am certainly apprehensive about how the whole work-life balance will look. Here, therefore is the list of things I'm going to miss about going back to work...<br />
<br />
1) The kids. Despite my regular cries of "IF YOU CARRY ON LIKE THAT I'M SENDING YOU TO YOUR GRANDPARENTS", I am quite fond of the little blighters. The truth is, however, that with both of them being at school and at various hobbies I probably won't see that much less of them anyway, so actually I am less worried about this than perhaps maternal guilt <i>should </i>dictate. But I've never been a fan of guilt of any sort anyway.<br />
<br />
2) My burgeoning social life. I've probably made more "playground buddies" in the past four months than in the whole of the almost four years that my eldest has been at school. Whilst I expect I will always float on the peripheries a little bit, it has certainly been nice to not feel like a complete Billy-No-Mates at the school gates for a change. I've even "done coffee" on one or two occasions...<br />
<br />
3) Walking. Forced exercise is anathema to me. The thought of the gym fills me with horror, and I've never seen the point in running when walking is perfectly acceptable. I do, however, love walking, and will miss the walks to and from school, and even my weekly walk to the job centre. I really noticed a change in my fitness levels even after not having done it for two weeks over the Christmas holidays.<br />
<br />
4) Time for appointments and admin. No longer can I mooch around the local shops on a whim. Groceries will probably have to be ordered online again. Paperwork and tidying will take up evenings. Hair cuts will have to be done on Saturdays. Appointments with doctors/dentists/chiropractors etc will have to be carefully scheduled around working hours.<br />
<br />
5) Time for Reading and Relaxation. And Twitter. And painting my nails. And farting about on the Internet...and just generally wasting time by myself.<br />
<br />
Mostly however, I am excited. Excited by a new challenge, a chance to learn new things and meet new people. Oh, and excited by the opportunity to go shoe shopping. What <i>does </i>one wear in an office these days?!<br />
<br />
Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-13529130016609839402013-12-30T12:41:00.001+00:002013-12-30T12:41:57.428+00:00Review - Tom Gates: Extra Special Treats (not)"Never work with children or animals", or so the saying goes. In blogging terms that might also mean "never agree to a review that involves a child giving you his or her opinion". You see, the lovely folks at Scholastic sent me a copy of the latest special hard cover winter edition of "Tom Gates: Extra Special Treats (not) to review.<br />
<br />
The book duly arrived, and was swiftly ferreted away by the 8 year old, who emerged at the end of the same day and declared that it was "epic".<br />
<br />
"Epic?" I said.<br />
"You'll have to give me a bit more than that - that's a bit of a short review!"<br />
"Well, it's got cool pictures and stuff, and it's funny."<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'HelveticaNeue LT 55 Roman'; font-size: 15px;">Weeks of wrangling didn't really give me much more, so I had to make do with the official description:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'HelveticaNeue LT 55 Roman'; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'HelveticaNeue LT 55 Roman'; font-size: 15px;"><i>'The sixth in the series by bestselling author Liz Pichon (winner of the Roald Dahl Funny Prize and current holder of the Blue Peter Book Award), the book is jam-packed with trademark illustrations, hilarious characters and stories - guaranteed to tickle children's funny bones as the evenings draw in!'</i></span><br />
<br />
Tom Gates: Extra Special Treats (not) is out now, published by Scholastic.<br />
<br />
(...and yes, it's "epic".)<br />
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<br />Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-61549712172926903412013-12-03T18:05:00.000+00:002013-12-03T18:05:20.586+00:00Only Boring People Are Bored*<div>
I always assumed that the only thing standing between me and a spotless home was a full-time job. It turns out that really, the only thing standing between me and a spotless house is...well...me. </div>
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With the children at school all day, I should have plenty of time to whip the place into serious shape. A household of four people who aren't that great at picking up after themselves is never going to be a recipe for show-home like conditions, but it turns out, I actually don't really care that much. Not enough to spend the two to three hours a day that it would require to get it to that stage, at any rate, because quite frankly, domestic chores bore the hell out of me. </div>
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It makes me wonder how things would have been different if I hadn't gone back to work after having children. Maybe I'd have found some meaningful hobbies to fill my time by now? Maybe I'd have become more active on the coffee morning scene? (Unlikely) Perhaps I'd have got stuck in volunteering with something? Maybe even started my own business from home?</div>
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I suppose I'll never know! However, I'm definitely past the stage of unemployment being a nice novelty and a bit of a rest, to finding myself thoroughly bored. </div>
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Bored of not being mentally stimulated.</div>
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Bored of every day feeling the same.</div>
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Bored of having to watch every penny.</div>
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Bored of the housework. Definitely bored of the housework.</div>
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I need to get back to work, and fast.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJoLrL45EsJFU01-t96AFLjgC1GckhwxUYEULYh9TusG9zafLsxIhvuVJTBjIr7HAwdneJu9TnVkr3cpNtIzmjBWCjxVgoX29bMJ6KpvMJA9dWkV-2f49ig0kbaw1guXy1vCuDi-UOdsgU/s1600/2353470227_cf37943a16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJoLrL45EsJFU01-t96AFLjgC1GckhwxUYEULYh9TusG9zafLsxIhvuVJTBjIr7HAwdneJu9TnVkr3cpNtIzmjBWCjxVgoX29bMJ6KpvMJA9dWkV-2f49ig0kbaw1guXy1vCuDi-UOdsgU/s320/2353470227_cf37943a16.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/12227737@N07/2353470227/in/photolist-4zY9GT-4BYgwq-4BYh4y-4DWLpH-4ETmMK-4MiHCz-4SGajU-4W61FA-4WtTFb-4WFLQK-4Ximby-53SgLW-5c5aVe-5c5cna-5c5LGD-5c5M96-5c5T8F-5c9sPh-5ca4kE-5ca9sq-5Cpu3j-5HNfwy-5LNrDr-5PCMkS-5Q5C7v-5VGzTR-62HP32-69xuXb-6g5twZ-6nJhLa-6HjpiN-6QQjXk-6SbyHP-6VhPwc-6XaBzS-6XaBZS-6XaCmE-6XaCFy-6XaDaA-6XaDAN-6Zu3FX-6Zy4AA-6ZMutP-6ZMuvp-6ZRTtf-716JDF-71idtg-71uABe-72jhZR-72ji1T-72ji6F" target="_blank">Boredom by Alison on Flickr</a></td></tr>
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(*Did anyone else's parents say that to them? Used to drive me crazy!)</div>
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Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-8793280186876034632013-11-07T13:14:00.002+00:002013-11-07T13:14:45.886+00:00Things I still can't do at 40So, "that birthday" has been and gone and I've had a couple of weeks as a fully-fledged 40 year old. I'll forgive you if you missed it, I didn't particularly publicise the actual date due to a (possibly irrational?) fear that all you internet weirdos are going to steal my identity if you have my full date of birth. Plus, the introvert in me cringes at anything that draws too much attention to myself. (Yes, I fully realise the irony in that last statement as I broadcast my thoughts out to all and sundry).<br />
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Anyway, I've never been one to subscribe to the significance of birthdays - it's all just another number, after all, and the ageing process is so much more gradual than overnight. Still, it is fun to take stock on such occasions and look back at all the things I have achieved, which, let's face it, is a lot. 40 years is quite a long time after all - you'd hope there were one or two achievements in there!<br />
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By contrast, the list of achievements <b><i>since </i></b>turning 40 are probably somewhat slimmer...(yep, still jobless).<br />
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So here instead is the list of things that have stumped me over the last couple of weeks:<br />
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- I still struggle to tell the difference between mumsnet and netmums.<br />
- Applying nail varnish that doesn't look like my kids had a go.<br />
- I really should have learned that I must ALWAYS go back and buy a second pair of my "ideal" jeans when I find them, as they will promptly be discontinued and I'll have to go through the whole tortuous process of trying gazillions of pairs on again.<br />
- While it took me a long time to become a "handbag person", I still don't understand the appeal of satchels for grown women. They'll always be cute school bags to me.<br />
- Will I ever master the art of putting a king-size duvet on a bed by myself?<br />
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<br />Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5465965594913164680.post-64504639352258820042013-10-24T09:43:00.000+01:002013-10-24T09:43:00.237+01:00Alternatives to Operation Christmas Child<div>
My daughters brought the following leaflet home from school recently that instantly made my heart sink:<br />
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On the face of it it's a lovely idea - you pack a shoe box full of small gifts that are sent to a deserving child in a third-world country.<br />
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However, there are many reasons <b>not </b>to support Samaritan's Purse who run the programme, not least because their main mission is evangelical, rather than charitable. <br />
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In fact, instead of me listing those reasons, I'd urge anyone interested in finding out more to please, please read the following; <a href="http://housefulofchaos.com/reasons-to-not-support-operation-christmas-child/" target="_blank">Reasons Not to Support Operation Christmas Child </a>, which offers a far more eloquent and well-researched list than I could probably muster.<br />
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I'll be writing to my children's school with my objections, which obviously come too late for this year, but I hope that they will reconsider their support for future years. I have also discussed it with my children as best I could, and together we have decided to make a commitment to sponsor a child via <a href="http://www.plan-uk.org/sponsor-a-child/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">PlanUK</a> instead - which I hope will give them a more lasting insight into life in the 3rd world, and instill in them the message that charity is not just about presents and is not just for Christmas.<br />
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However, if you do feel strongly about an alternative and can't afford to make a lasting commitment, you can still purchase more of a one-off gift from organisations like Save the Children, who have some great <a href="http://shop.savethechildren.org.uk/wishlist-landing/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Christmas gifts</a> that can make a real, practical difference <i>without </i>a hidden agenda.<br />
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Sardinetinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05100828647660659428noreply@blogger.com