The Sardine Tin

Of Chalk and Cheese

2012-01-24T20:19:00.000Z

Two very different incidents over the weekend have got me marvelling about how truly different my children are from each other. Little did I know, when I rashly exclaimed at number two's birth "My goodness, you're your sister", how wrong I would be proved. The physical changes became gradually apparent; after the shock of jet black hair they shared at birth had faded, DD1's colouring turned to my dirty blonde, whilst her younger sister stayed stubbornly brunette.

Physical differences are of course less interesting to me than their differences in character. In many ways this too became obvious when they were still tiny. Problems with reflux meant DD1's first few months were emotionally fraught and physically exhausted while her sister ate and slept well almost immediately, and it seemed reflected in their general temperament.

We popped to the shops on Saturday to pick up a few bits and pieces, and the familiar cry of "mummy, I need a wee" was soon heard. I looked around and mumbled something about trying to remember where the toilets were. When I looked back, number 2 had disappeared. I headed towards the toilets with DD1, only to find DD2 purposefully striding towards the back of the store already. "It's ok, mummy", she said, "the toilets are over there - I asked a man". It truly amazed (and worried) me to see her confidence at age four - I barely dare ask strangers for directions at *cough* years older! Needless to say, even at two years older, it's not something her sister would ever consider either, which I must confess saddens me a little - I'd love to give her a bit of a confidence injection sometimes.

Yet an incident on Sunday reminded me that she has her own positive attributes where her sister may perhaps be "lacking". We went for a lovely bike ride with some friends along a canal. All was going well, when, around an hour in, DD1 slipped when pushing her bike up a hill, and fell. Her friend behind her struggled to stop, and ran over her arm at the elbow. From the initial cries we could tell something was not right, and my husband hurried back to fetch the car to the nearest point (thankfully close). From that point, through to being diagnosed as having a broken arm, having had it x-rayed three times and cast twice until we were ready to go home around 6 hours after the incident had happened, she was incredibly calm and uncomplaining, and her bravery really impressed me. It's probable that her younger sister would have howled and complained through the entire process.

I suppose it will never cease to amaze me how the same set of genes mixed slightly differently can result in such different little personalities, and seeing that mix develop and grow truly has to be one of the most fun aspects of parenting.

Singing the January Blues

2012-01-19T12:05:00.000Z

I always find January to be a bit of a strange month. The gluttony of Christmas has gone and we're all supposed to be bright-eyed and bushy tailed and somehow full of new motivation to improve ourselves via the means of resolutions. Even the days are getting brighter again, which normally heralds instant cheeriness.

I know I'm not the only one to be what can best be described as a massive post-Christmas hangover. Whilst December is a dark month, I miss the decorations and the twinkle of the fairly lights. I miss the fact that nobody needs an excuse to get together with friends, and yes, I miss the abandon of not worrying about being "good" about what you are eating or drinking for a while.

Coupled with a lot of uncertainty about my job, the fact that Him Indoors is stressed about his, and the general demands of a hectic household, my current instinct is to hide away in a little hole until at least February. Whilst hibernation is appealing, however, it's not really a viable option. Instead, it seems I have two options - carry on feeling down, or try and pick myself up, dust myself off and start looking forwards again. So, whilst I'm not a great fan of New Year's Resolutions, I'm going to treat myself to a belated one this year - namely, to keep smiling.

Source

Review: Cottage Croquet Set

2011-12-03T20:52:00.000Z

Before I start, I can almost hear you exclaiming - "Croquet? In December?!" To be honest, it was also my first reaction when I was offered a croquet set by Garden Games for me to review. However, I have always wanted a croquet set and I also figured there could be no harm in finding an excuse to get the kids outside in the garden at this time of year. (I must confess my imagination got a little carried away and I had visions of "ice croquet" on a blanket of crunchy grass. Any excuse for a nice hot toddy afterwards...)

Anyway, back to the set. The set contains four mallets, four balls, metal hoops, a winning post and a set of rules in a nice sturdy nylon bag:

(as you can see, someone was so keen to get going, she refused to keep out of the picture so you'll have to take my word for it that there are four of each...). The quality of the mallets and balls feels really great, but in a silly way it was the metal hoops that impressed me the most. A lot of croquet sets I have seen in the past have included basic wire rings, but these ones are solid and sturdy and definitely won't end up bent out of shape:

The set retails for £79.99, which may seem like a lot I suppose, but I do think this set would certainly last. This is a good thing, as to be honest the only downside I could see what that I think my children (4 and 6) are still a little young for it, and could probably do with smaller mallets. It is definitely intended for adults or older children, and I can see us getting more use out of it in future when they are a little older.

All I need now is for someone to buy me a house with a large lawn so I can do it justice...

Body Celebration, or The Frankenstein Blogger

2011-11-28T19:46:00.001Z

Google +...it seems you either love it, hate it or are completely oblivious to it.

I, for one, love it. Maybe it's just the fact that I am one of the few people that don't have a facebook account, but I post fairly regularly on there. In fact, in a lot of ways I use it like an extension of Twitter - down to the fact I was been invited by someone from Twitter, and most of the people in my circles are ~~the weirdoes and reprobates~~ those I talk to on Twitter too.

Anyway, a couple of Twitter friends and I regularly post Man or Woman of the day - a kind of Hot or Not that generally just degenerates into a weird slanging match that most of you probably are frankly best off steering well clear of. After another random celebrity got pulled apart for whatever reason, it led to another of my rambling thoughts about body image.

I've mentioned in the past about various things I don't like about my appearance, but I thought it was time to turn the tables a little and focus on the positives. If anyone were to ask me which bit I did like, I would probably say my waist. Maybe my lips too, but mainly my waist.

In a lot of ways it's not a very exciting body part, but I distinctly remember as a young teenager lying in my bed and tracing the curve of my hip and waist, and feeling decidedly womanly. Later on, I was (un)fortunate to be in my prime when crop-tops were at the height of fashion, and a cinched in waist was a useful thing to show off. Now, after the passage of time and having given birth to two children, the skin may not be as taut as it used to be, but I'm lucky enough to still be able to fit into the same clothes as I could 20 (eek) years ago.

Women's magazines often feature an "ideal" celebrity, with features that apparently all women lust after - Jennifer Aniston's hair, Angelina's lips etc etc, and I wondered whether we could create a whole person out of our favourite body parts...

I'd therefore love to know what your favourite bit of you is. If you're feeling really brave, you could email me a picture (email address is on the "About" page), or post it on your blog and we can even see if we can get a whole person together...

Size Matters

2011-11-08T14:28:00.000Z

I came across the image above on the deepest, darkest depths of the internet recently and it finally jolted me into writing a post that has been floating around the corners of my mind for quite some time. I have somehow never managed to make the jumbled thoughts in my head on this one into a reasoned post as it’s a horribly emotive subject, so I hope I can manage it this time.

Let me make it clear before I start; I am sure the thought behind the original slogan; “Real Women Have Curves” is admirable, in that it is trying to get women to accept their bodies for what they are, not the stick-thing models they see in magazines. And yet, I will admit that every time I see it, it irks me terribly. You see, I have blogged before about how I am not a fan of labels if they can possibly be avoided, and it strikes me that there is a danger with this thought of simply replacing one unrealistic ideal (women have to be thin) with another one that may be shoehorning women into another defined box (women have to have “curves”).

I’ve thought long and hard about what it actually means for a woman to be curvy, and as with most things, if you trawl the internet for long enough you come across so many different definitions as to be pretty meaningless. One messageboard tells me that “when women describe themselves as "curvy", it's the new code word for "fat"” (charming, I think you’ll agree). The general consensus, however, appears to be that it means women have to be small waisted, large-bottomed, and most importantly, large chested.

Now, there is certainly absolutely nothing wrong with being a perfect hourglass shape. The fact of the matter is that not every woman is that shape, however. It may be true that women's chest and dress sizes have increased over the last 50 years, but that doesn't necessarily mean that everyone suddenly looks like Marilyn Monroe. Look at any high street and you will see a vast array of different shapes and sizes.

I suppose you will think I am lucky when I say that I have been naturally slim-ish all my life (yes, I might even have been called "skinny" at one point or another). That doesn't mean I haven't had plenty of hang-ups about my own body. Take the breast size debate, for example. It's not a huge secret to anyone that knows me that God missed adding some padding "up top" when he created me. Every time I get frustrated by lingerie companies that start sizing their sizing at a B-cup, I try and console myself with the fact I can still shop in the “my first bra” section of M&S if I really wanted to. (Hoorah for choice.) Technically I may have curves in that I am blessed with a small waist and large-ish hips, but I certainly don't recognise myself in the descriptions of curvy that I have seen. Id' like to think it doesn't make me any less real, however!

Photoshopping is commonplace in both fashion magazines and glamour shoots, and the rise of plastic surgery means nobody has to look as nature intended if they don't want to. As a mother to two girls, this saddens me greatly. I would like to think that growing up they will be accepted for how they look, whether that is like Twiggy or like Dawn French, and, most importantly, for them to be happy in their bodies. The last thing I would want is for them to feel the need to look like Katie Price because that is somehow what is now expected!

Saying that Real Women have curves is therefore meaningless and dangerous in my opinion– we might as well say real women are green. Can't we just agree that all women are real women, just like all men are real men, and that is all that matters?

It takes all sorts...

2011-10-23T07:44:00.000+01:00

"Between friends, differences in taste or opinion are irritating in direct proportion to their triviality."
W. H. Auden

The world up is made up by many different people, all with interests, hobbies and even desires that I know will differ vastly from mine. The world would be a very boring place if all anyone ever did was knit, and nobody played music, or acted, or even played with model aircraft! We need people who are interested in quantum physics, even if the phrase itself causes the blankest look on my own face.

I also know that making assumptions about someone is the easiest thing in the world - I've certainly written about that often enough on this blog. Every now and then I have to hold a mirror up to myself and I don't necessarily see thoughts that are particularly charitable. I guess that's also (sadly?) pretty normal human behaviour.

There are some things, however, that to me personally are things that I take for granted that everybody should be interested in. It's therefore a surprise to come across someone who isn't. Take, for example, people who don't read. Now, I know not everyone does well at school. Literacy levels are not where they should be in a lot of cases. A love of books is not something that gets handed down in all families. I am, however, talking about someone who comes from what I would probably term similar social circles to myself, where the normal assumption would be that reading was something that happened in their home.
I once offered someone fitting this description a stack of magazines to get them through the boredom of the first few weeks with a newborn. The response, "I don't read - not even magazines. I prefer to watch tv". Nothing. Nada. We were not talking about the novels of Dostoevsky here either. I had offered things like Heat and OK, real high-brow stuff that really only involved looking at pictures...

The second thing I take for granted is that everyone should have a love of travel. This may sound ironic given a relatively recent post of mine about how I am happy staying at home, but I love travelling and seeing new sights and sounds. It's something I think shows a healthy curiosity about life, and certainly teaches many things you could never learn in a classroom. For someone to therefore recently announce that they really don't even like going on holiday surprised me, and I didn't know what to think. Should I have been jealous of the fact that this person's four walls were obviously so idyllic they didn't want to escape them every now and then? Or should I go with my first instinct to simply consider this person narrow-minded? I'm not expecting everyone to go backpacking around the world at the drop of a hat, but even a week on a beach must be something that is desirable?

Wait Until Your Father Gets Home...

2011-10-09T07:59:00.000+01:00

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...seems to be a phrase most of us remember our mothers uttering at one point or another. The dreaded "father as disciplinarian" is something I certainly remember from my own childhood (which is strange considering how much of a pussy cat he is now with his granddaughters...).

Whilst I would not go as far as saying that my husband and I have a good cop-bad cop thing going on when it comes to parenting, it is very true to say that the girls tend to respond to us differently on different occasions. For instance, I am normally better at cajoling them into getting ready for school in the mornings, while their dad has more luck with them at bedtime for some reason. Of course this is all very well and good when you are both around to take on your roles, but it only takes one of you not being around to throw the precarious equilibrium out of kilter.

Take Wednesdays, for instance. Wednesday is the day I officially start early (historically the day I have gone into the office, vs working from home), and him indoors therefore takes the kids to breakfast club. Or rather; it's the day they refuse to get dressed, howl like banshees over brushing their teeth and have to be dragged kicking and screaming to the car...

I like to think we have a more or less similar approach to disciplining our children, which I think is incredibly important. It's still funny, however, funny to see how our daughters still try that age old tactic enjoyed by generations of children, of playing one parent off against the other. Why do they think asking a different parent will get a different answer? At which age will they learn that the standard answer will always be "what did daddy/mummy say?" And at which age will they finally learn that, in general, we do not issue empty threats, but follow through on any threatened punishment...? (I suspect the answer, as with any questions related to children, is; when they reach 21... )

There's No Place Like Home

2011-09-20T21:48:00.000+01:00

It's no secret that I have been lucky enough to travel a reasonable amount, mainly around Europe, but also (with the exception of South America and Australia) briefly touching the other continents.That's not to say that there aren't a great many places I have yet to visit that are on my "to do" list!

I've also been lucky enough to spend extended periods of time living in other countries in my childhood and early adulthood. I'm therefore no stranger to adapting to different cultures, although to be fair they have been mainly Western European!

Whenever I go anywhere, whether for business or for pleasure, I therefore naturally find myself wondering what it would be like to live in the particular country I am visiting. In my head I've lived in the US, done the expat lifestyle in Dubai, lived the good life in France, and even returned mentally to Germany and Finland. Whilst there have never been concrete opportunities, I am sure if at any point I had really wanted to, I could probably have found a chance to push for one of those locations over the past *cough* years.

I do often wonder what has stopped me from taking the plunge. There was always an excuse or other. I guess the truth is that in a two-career household neither of us felt strongly enough about it in order to warrant the inevitable disruption to the other partner's career it would have entailed. Then there are the little excuses that creep in; Dubai is too hot (true, and very valid), the US seemed too far away at the time, France has too many smokers (although the wine may balance that out), Finland is too cold and dark for half the year, I don't think I could cope with the formality of Germany any more etc etc.

When it all comes down to it, this funny little island we live in suits me. Don't get me wrong, I don't think the UK is perfect - far from it by all means. What I am trying to say is that I guess I have finally realised it is kind of perfect for me - probably more by a process of elimination than anything else.

Of course, now that there are children to throw into the equation, and they now both at school, there are different considerations to bear in mind. There's no doubt I'd love to give my children the same experiences I had, and the ease at which they would now earn a foreign language is almost too good an opportunity to pass up. However, I also remember the stress it caused me in my own childhood - the stress of starting a new school in a whole different country when you already have a grasp of the language is reasonable is bad enough... Whilst I know, deep down, that children are adaptable, maybe I'm just not brave enough to take that chance with my own. Finally, from a purely selfish point of view I have friends and family here. I have a support network - not something to be underestimated as a working parent, after all.

It never stops you wondering though, does it...

Holiday Memories, or How To Not Have Sex on Holiday

2011-09-12T20:39:00.000+01:00

September. Holidays over. Back to work, back to school, back to reality with a big bump. Leaves are falling off the trees, the nights are drawing in, and Hallowe'en decorations are jostling for shelf space with Christmas crackers in the supermarkets. (This last point may be a lie, I haven't actually been near a supermarket since coming back from holiday - oh, the delights of online shopping - but let's face it, this year isn't going to be any different from previous years on that front, is it?)

Holidays are funny things though, aren't they? All that pressure on a couple of weeks somewhere different and away from home... if you ask me, they should be up there in the top 10 of most stressful life events. Divorce? Break-up? Death of a close relative? Losing a job? Not half as stressful as spending 10 hours straight in a car with children and their infernal "Are we there yet" questions. Thank heavens for the advent of portable dvd players...

Once you get to your chosen destination, maybe you look forward to some time by yourselves? A little time as a couple? A little time to - dare I mention the "s" word - indulge in the activity that brought about said little darlings in the first place? There is, after all, such a thing as Holiday Horn(TM), which seems to rear it's head (pun intended) when sunny climes result in fewer items of clothing and excess sangria/red wine/babycham loosen inhibitions.

If you will allow me to give a top tip to those looking forward to holiday hanky-panky; do not spend the first few days sleeping in the next room to your mother in law. Now, for some people, being under the same roof as a parent may excite them by reminding them of their teenage fumblings. Let's just say I am not one of them, and no matter how well I may get on with my mother in law, there's something about the thought of her listening through the plasterboard that doesn't really induce lustful feelings.

Never mind, you may tell yourself - this holiday is in several parts, and only the first few days are spent in the company of relatives. Maybe you hope that the prospect of staying in a hotel later in the holiday will reinvigorate things? Think again. Holidaying with children in a hotel rarely lives up to the expectations that you might have had of Egyptian cotton, fluffy robes and room service. Instead you find yourselves in the dreaded "family room" - essentially a normal double, with an additional sofa bed squashed into one end of it. If you are very lucky (thank you, Novotel), this will fold into two separate single beds, thus avoiding the inevitable duvet fights that ensue should two children not used to sharing a bed together find themselves having to do so (thanks for nothing, Disneyland Paris).

Your children will of course have managed to grab forty winks in the car on the journey from wherever you have come, and will be rested and full of beans when you reach said hotel. Not for them therefore the early bedtime you had hoped for and that had you dreaming of the smuggled cans of beer and gin and tonic you had packed with tremendous optimism and foresight. Instead, they will join you in the hotel restaurant, demand televisual rights and generally fidget and be wide awake so much that you are forced to employ the final weapon in your arsenal.

Yes, it's time for the "but it's so late even mummy and daddy are going to bed" argument. This involves you putting on nightwear, brushing your teeth (so much for the sneaky alcoholic drink), getting into bed, extinguishing lights and feigning sleep in the vain hope that for once in their lives your children will follow your example. Of course, the inevitable happens, and you reawaken at midnight, dribbling, thirsty, and slightly disorientated by the fact you were asleep at 9pm...

So it is that after two weeks of sunshine, fun, Mickey overdose and 2000 miles of driving, you return home, tired, sexually frustrated, and in need of another holiday...

So this is August...

2011-08-15T15:10:00.000+01:00

...and what have I done?

With apologies to John Lennon, this is one of those "OHMYGODWHEREHASTHETIMEGONE" kind of posts. With less than a week to go before we finally go on our summer holiday (and believe me, it feels like everyone else has been and we've been waiting FOR EVER for it to be our turn), and then straight back into the new school term just after we get back, I am currently experiencing a strange mixture of holiday de-mob happiness and back-to-school madness.

Will we have packed everything for our fortnight in France? Will everything have been washed? Will my children have all their new items of uniform fully labelled before they return to the classroom? Will I remember that I am off on a business trip the week after we get back? Who knows... I like to think I'm doing a halfway reasonable job of remaining organised about it, but there may be an element of denial about the whole thing.

As the Germans say; Augen zu, und durch! (*roughly translated as Eyes closed, and through...)

Happy holidays!

Nostalgia is for Old People

2011-08-01T16:25:00.000+01:00

The date stamp on the draft of this post says 8th June, so let's just pretend this post is inspired by recent events and gloss over the fact I've been meaning to write it for nearly two months and failed miserably, can we?

Two unrelated events over the past couple of months have got me thinking about nostalgia. Firstly, our half term holiday to the Peak District brought back a flood of familiar names that I remembered from my childhood. There I was, transported back to the age of 12, sitting in the car outside an antiques shop in Buxton while my parents rummaged around and oohed and aahed over "boring old junk". Or maybe thinking back to freezing in a cave with my friend Alison, laughing as the water dripped onto our heads from the stalactites above. Lyme Park hadn't changed much in over 20 years - unless you counted the state of the art playground that now seems de rigueur for any self-respecting tourist attraction.

Driving home after our holiday, we detoured to try and beat the inevitable South Manchester traffic jams, until there they were - the really familiar names from my childhood. Cheadle. Gatley. We passed my old school - the school where I spent only two years, and yet where, if I close my eyes I can still see the crowds of uniformed pupils meandering down the corridors, or smell the fear of going into the girls' toilets in case the older girls were in there smoking.

The day after we came back, myself and a few girlfriends - all now in our 30s and (shhh) 40s - went to a local 80s night, where Limahl (he of Kajagoogoo fame) and various other artistes transported us back to our youth, along with a crowd of other similarly middle-aged people.

I tried explaining all of this to my daughters, whose blank incomprehension finally made me laugh. The thing is, nostalgia is completely lost on the young. Try telling a six year old that there were only 3 television channels and no tv in the mornings when you were young - or that nobody had mobile phones, and music came on giant black discs. The look of withering pity and incomprehension is enough to make you sob into your snakebite and black...

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and put my legwarmers on.

____

P.S. Just popping a link here to the lovely people at Appliances Online in exchange for a gift from the Fairy Hobmother. You may have seen them around on other blogs. Leave a comment - and who knows, they might visit you too!

In Need of Perspective

2011-07-12T08:49:00.000+01:00

We watched Ratatouille with the kids at the weekend. There’s a scene towards the end, where the big restaurant critic comes to dine at the restaurant. “What can I get you”, asks the waiter. “Perspective” replies the critic.

If only it were so easy to order perspective like that. I could do with some of it myself right now. I find myself strangely down with no apparent reason. I’ve written before about my tendency to internalise. I’ve never been a big “sharer”, preferring to withdraw into my little shell until the mood passes.

The problem with this approach, of course, is that when, or if, something eventually gives, it can come as a complete shock to those around me, who had no idea of the thoughts or feelings that have been welling up over time. Case in point; bursting into tears when my husband came home last night. I couldn't even really tell him what was wrong. The truth is, I don’t even know why I am feeling sorry for myself at the moment – I certainly have nothing at all to complain about.

I heard a story recently of a friend of a friend of such anguish and heartbreak; involving a severely disabled child, broken homes, domestic abuse that really made me think about perspective, and my seeming lack of it. To paraphrase and garble that famous saying beloved of all parents; I can’t believe I’m stressing about not finding a holiday when there are children starving in Africa.

Today, I’d like a healthy dose of Perspective please. With a side order of Count Your Blessings.

Camping for Beginners

2011-07-05T11:42:00.000+01:00

Having just come back from a weekend's camping in Dorset, I thought I would share some helpful tips - more for myself if I ever decide to do it again than for anyone else! (Yes, I'm a total novice when it comes to camping - or at least I was. Now that I have spent 2 nights in a tent, I am of course a pro that can dish out advice to all and sundry):

1) Don't attempt your first camping trip alone. It certainly helps to go with seasoned campers. That way you can steal half their equipment, have them cook all the food, and generally look a bit less clueless about the whole thing as you simply copy what they do.

2) Borrow as much equipment as possible. It certainly helps if you have lovely friends that are willing to lend you a tent!

3) Make sure you have enough alcohol. Without fail, every person I mentioned our camping trip to said pretty much the same thing: Drink Your Way Through It. (This was after they had initially stopped laughing and looked at me with a dubious face, saying: "I didn't really have you down as a camper..."). These were our supplies for the first night:

(Yes, we had to go and buy more on the second day! Oh, and I should probably mention there were only 7 adults...)

4) Avoid the weekend of your 10th wedding anniversary if possible. A weekend in a 5-star hotel with spa facilities is generally more appropriate.

5) Check the state of all equipment before leaving. Do not laugh at the distress of one of your tent mates when their camping chair collapses the week before you go. You are guaranteed that this will happen to you on your first evening.

6) Camping chairs do not tend to stay together very well with cable ties

7) Book good weather. This is crucial. The thought of setting up and dismantling a tent in the rain fills me with horror. Thankfully it's not something I had to experience, as the weather was absolutely glorious!

8) No matter how warm it is in the day, you will still need an arctic sleeping bag. This is the countryside - all those open spaces and clear skies make for cold nights. Brrr....

9) If one of your party brings with them a brand new, still in the box, state of the art Vango Airbeam tent, make sure they do not inflate to more than 3psi, otherwise the tent that impressed everyone so much by inflating in 5 minutes will look a little less impressive when one of the beams pops and the tent deflates in the middle...

10) Most important of all - relax and have a good time. Oh, and try to drown out the cries of "I don't want to go home" from the kids. Otherwise, who knows, you might even have to do it again...and that would never do...

Pyjamas or...errr.... Bananas...?

2011-06-13T13:25:00.000+01:00

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Several things recently have got me musing over what people do wear in bed...firstly, the lovely Julie over at Kailexness wrote a post asking if there was Sex After Children (yes! hurrah!), and suggested sleeping naked as an easy way to intimacy. Secondly I was catching up with one of my many guilty pleasures in the trash TV stakes, 'Brothers and Sisters'. I won't bore those of you who don't follow the Walker family shenanigans with too much detail, but suffice to say, this particular episode seemed to involve a lot of them getting out of bed for some reason. It was interesting to see how what each character appeared to wear in bed reflected either their personality, or the state of their relationship.

I'll hold my hand up at this point and declare that, while I do possess a silly amount of frilly negligée type things, I am generally a 'comfort over style' kind of girl when it comes to bed wear. For starters, we live in a Victorian house that realistically has quite a way to go in the insulation stakes, and if there is one thing I detest it is Being Cold - in bed or out of it. I'm therefore definitely a cosy bedwear fan - however, even when the temperatures climb drastically, I still prefer to wear a little slip of something. Apart from anything else, I've always been a huge fan of leaving something to the imagination...

I do recognise, however, that it is very much a personal preference, as well as a practical consideration. A colleague of mine generally packs pyjamas only when going on trips, as they have a slight phobia of being caught out in case of a hotel fire alarm. I don't know whether this fear is based on a previous negative experience, or whether it is just sensible precautions, but it does seem a perfectly prudent thing to do. The thought of finding yourself starkers in a hotel car park in the middle of the night does not seem appealing to anyone but the most fervent exhibitionist.

Therefore, as I'm generally nosy, I'm going to open this up with a little poll (and fingers crossed that I have done this correctly!!), so go on, tell me...:

What do you wear in bed?

Random Thoughts of the Week - the Half Term Edition

2011-06-08T12:24:00.000+01:00

- We recently spent a wonderful week with a large group of old friends in the Peak District, a beautiful part of the country that really inspired me into thinking that we really should explore more of the UK, as there are so many wonderful places that really are worth a visit. Sadly, this assumes time and resources are plentiful (5 hours in a car is not fun, and sadly stingy employers limit those precious days off!), so I fear it will remain an unfulfilled ambition for some time yet!

- The main problem with holidaying in the UK is of course the unpredictability of the weather. Rain protection, especially is pretty fundamental. It helps to bear this in mind before travelling. Leaving youngest daughter's raincoat at nursery is therefore a really, really bad idea...

- There really are places in the UK without any mobile phone coverage. When I say UK, I actually mean "England" - I kind of assume that some of the more remote areas of the Scottish Highlands might not be covered. Being uncontactable for a couple of hours is very rare and quite strange these days!

- In a large party, including 13 children of various ages, the statistical probability of at least one of them being ill are (sadly) pretty good.

- As a collective group, we need to make more effort to teach our children the rules of "Poohsticks". They didn't quite seem to grasp the concept, and assumed it meant hitting bits of deer pooh with sticks...

- "Coming out" to your friends about your blog is weird, but not as painful as anticipated (Hello all!)

Mystery Blog Swappers Revealed

2011-05-26T11:52:00.000+01:00

So, did you guess who was swapping with who?

Cuntychopalops swapped with Curly and Candid
Pants with Names swapped with Phantom Kitty
All About Us and Such Like swapped with Geekymummy
Sandy Calico swapped with Bumbling's Blog

Did you guess?

Thank you so much to all the swappers!!

So....This Mystery Blog Swap Business...

2011-05-18T20:51:00.000+01:00

It seems there were some people ~~foolish~~ brave enough to sign up to my rather flippant idea of doing a secret blog swap.

The way it is (hopefully) going to work is this - below is a list of blogs participating. They'll be posting a guest post by another person (to remain unidentified) on the list over the next couple of days. For anyone not participating that is game, you then have a couple of days to try and see if you can work out who has swapped with who before we reveal whether you were right or not. Special kudos to a) the person who guesses the most swaps correctly, and b) the swappers who are most successful at hiding themselves. If it goes well I might even see if I can rustle up a prize or two...

So, without further ado, the list of participating blogs is (in alphabetical order)

All About Us and Such like
Bare Naked Mummy
Bumbling's Blog
Cunty Chopalops' Font Bukkake
Curly and Candid
Diary of a Frugal Family
Domestique Goddess
Mochabeanie Mummy
Muddling Along Mummy
My Mumdom
Pants With Names
Phantom Kitty
Sandy Calico
The Hairdog Chronicles

Eek, here's hoping it doesn't all go horribly wrong...

On Being the Old New Girl

2011-05-09T19:44:00.000+01:00

I may have mentioned a while back that the company I work(ed) for was about to be taken over. For various reasons, this never happened at the end of last year, as originally planned, but instead happened at the beginning of last week.

I therefore now find myself in the rather strange situation of working for a new company without actually having changed jobs. Of course, the first working day of last week was a bank holiday in the UK, so really I have only been employed by NewCo for 4 working days.

In a lot of ways nothing much has changed - I still have the same team reporting to me, I still have the same manager etc. The changes are much more subtle. There's a whole new intranet to find my way around. To say the organisation structure is complicated is an understatement. I need to apply for a new corporate credit card. Expenses are handled different, and there's a fancy new employee discount scheme - all those small, seemingly insignificant things that end up taking up too much time and detracting from the business in hand.

Still, a change is as good as a rest as they say, and I'm looking forward to learning and discovering again.

The Mystery Blog Swap

2011-05-07T15:26:00.002+01:00

I do sometimes wonder whether thinking out loud on Twitter is the best idea... There I was the other day, nosing in on a conversation between Jay and Nicki about hijacking other people's blogs, when it dawned on me that we haven't really had a "guest post day" in blogland recently (or at least, not that I had seen, which, considering how little time I have spent on blogs recently might not necessarily be representative - for all I know you're all permanently guest posting...)

I'll be honest, I'm a bit ambivalent about guest posting. However, I thought it might be fun to have a guest post day with a bit of a twist. The way guest posts normally work is that two people swap blogs for the day, in the hope of discovering new readers and new blogs. With The Mystery Blog Swap we won't be publishing who has swapped with who when the posts go up, but instead I will publish a list of all those participating here and we'll have a light-hearted game of trying to guess who has swapped with who, with names revealed at a later stage.

To make it fairer, I will limit the number of blogs involved to the first 50 people who pop a comment on this post (assuming that many people are even interested - for all I know I'm the only one who thinks this is a good idea). As a prompt, pick a random day in your life and write about it - it could be a memorable occasion, or just what you have been up to on that day.

I'll leave until midnight Friday (13th May) for anyone to sign up, so that I've got enough time to pair people and contact them to let them know. Posts will then be published by the following Friday (20th), with guessing and unveiling of results taking place by Monday 23rd.

This may make no sense to you whatsoever...or you might think it's a terrible idea, but I'd love it if one or two of you wanted to give it a go!

(And yes, I'll try and work out how to make a badge by next Friday...)

#SilentSunday - 1st May 2011

2011-05-01T07:53:00.000+01:00

On Friendship

2011-04-26T18:06:00.000+01:00

Anyone who has been reading my intermittent ramblings for a while will know that one of my favourite subjects is that of work-life balance and the juggling of different roles. After a few years of practising the holy trinity of wife-mother-employee, I like to think I have at least come to terms with the fact that I am giving each of these roles the best I can without damaging them too much. I am more than happy to have sacrificed role of cleaner and perfect housekeeper along the way!

However, one thing I have recently started to wonder is whether the role of "Friend" has also inadvertently slipped by the wayside without me noticing. I have always been one of these people that does not make friends easily - I have few friends, but most of them are old and very good friends that I have known a long time. They are the kind of friends that, regardless of how seldom we see each other, always make it feel like it was only yesterday. The sort of friends that you can just be comfortable with.

Yet lately I have had a niggling doubt that I'm really doing all I should. In the last couple of months, I have:
- forgotten to send two 40th birthday cards,
- forgotten the birthday of my best friend's 1 year old. The "best friend" I have not seen since before Christmas because a) we both lead busy lives and it is not always possible, but b) mainly because I absentmindedly double-booked the last weekend we were supposed to be getting together...
- had a friend have to text me to arrange a night out despite it technically being "my turn" to arrange (and despite me having thought about it for weeks and still not having done anything about it!)
- still not called or emailed the friend in Germany I have been meaning to contact since Christmas

Finally, add to that my apparent inability to find any kind of words whatsoever when I meet someone going through any kind of hard time; grief or separation, and I do wonder what sort of person I appear to be on the outside...

So, to any friends secretly reading this (yes, Mr Tin, I know you keep passing on the url...grrr...), I'm sorry.

x

Random Thoughts Of the Week - The Theme Park Edition

2011-04-14T17:22:00.000+01:00

Eldest daughter celebrated her 6th birthday recently (cue much wailing and many cries of "My baaaayyyyybeeeee - where has the time gone"!!?), and instead of a party, we decided to treat her to a couple of days at a theme park - which one is not relevant, but suffice to say a 6ft pig featured at one point. Anyway, as we made our way up and down the various rides, the following observations sprang to mind:

- I know it's difficult to know what to wear in the British climate at the best of times (wet weather gear? winter coats? sunglasses), but you only have to go to a theme park to see the widest variety of different get-ups. From the eminently sensible to what I can only put in the "what were you thinking" box of clothing. I am sure head-to-toe white linen seemed like a great idea for a hot sunny day. It looked stylish and cool...if you were not planning to go on any rides. However, the person in question had obviously not thought through the fact that a log flume and white linen can have some rather revealing consequences...

- I don't really have any strong views either way on tattoos - I think the right one can look quite pretty, and have toyed with having one in the past (the pain! the pain!), but on a sunny day I do really marvel at the number and variety on show. Am I the only person in the country that does not have one?

- From the first two points, it is obvious that the day in question was a freak hot and sunny day. Again, going back to point one - appreciate British climate not best to judge, but seriously - if you it is hot enough to wear a strappy top, surely sun protection is pretty vital? One word: Lobster. Ouch.

- Finally, a top tip for you - from experience! Didn't manage to finish the coffee you bought on the services on the way over? Hot day? Simply leave it in your car, and it will be at exactly the perfect temperature for drinking when you get back after a long day! Just watch you don't burn your lips. Again: ouch.

Random Thoughts of the Week

2011-03-31T19:36:00.000+01:00

1) I don't "get" ugly dogs. By that I don't mean the mean, fierc-looking ones - in some way I understand how for some they are status symbols. I don't even mean the ones that are so ugly they are cute (like the pooch in the pic above - officially Britain's ugliest dog, apparently - you just can't help feel sorry for him, can you?). There's a category somewhere in between that just makes me marvel how they even still exist and how they still breed.

2) At the risk of sounding all middle-aged and fuddy-duddy - when did Katie Price become such an apparently ubiquitous role model for young women? I honestly don't know how there is any hair dye, hair spray, foundation or false eyelashes left in the whole of the county if a recent night out is to be believed. (And, yes, I really do sound like my mother). What happened to natural beauty?

3) Isn't it strange how mowing a lawn can make a garden look so much more clean and tidy? It's like giving the whole place a bit of a shave and getting rid of the stubble.

4) This year is the first year that I really seem to have struggled with the change to BST. I have just been so tired all week. Can one measly hour really make that much difference?! Thankfully the children seem to have adapted relatively well - I guess I should thank heaven for small mercies.

The One Word Meme

2011-03-27T19:15:00.000+01:00

Both my namesake and bloggy friend Julie over at All About Us, and the lovely Aly at Plus2Point4 have tagged me in a meme... a meme that for once does not require too much thought on my part (and I think we've established how lazy I am on the blogging front at the moment!!), but is in fact one for anyone that might be reading this...

The idea is you write one word in the comments which you feel describes me!

In the words of the meme’s creator Michelle from Mummy from the Heart

“This got me thinking about an email I received a few years back, one of those circular things that I normally hate but this one I loved and have never forgotten. It was about the power of positive affirmations and how knowing what positive things others think of you can boost your own self-esteem. It talked of an inspirational teacher who got all her children to write one positive word down to describe the other children in the class and then they had to hand them in. The teacher then collated all the positive words for each child into a special sheet for them and handed it to them to read and keep. They learnt that their peers saw them in ways they had never imagined and it had an immense effect on them. The story goes that one of them died and a number of them attended the funeral and it was found that they all still had their lists 20 or so years later as they had been really touched by this loving gesture. Did this really happen? Who knows, but I love the sentiment of this story and therefore it does not matter to me if it was real.

Well, what about if us bloggers and virtual friends did something similar? How marvellous would we all feel to learn these new facets of ourselves that we did not know existed. Someone may say I am inspirational (another one I have heard about myself a few times recently) and me being me I would say ‘no not me’ but what have I done there? Rubbished their opinion and that is not right, only they know if I have actually inspired them to do something. If people are kind enough to give us a compliment we should be gracious enough to accept it…. and why not go one step further and actually go out and ask for it?

Well that is what I want us all to do. I am creating a meme, called the 1 Word Meme and I would love for every one of us to be able to collate all the positive words left by our real life friends, virtual friends and fellow bloggers so that we each have a sheet of positive affirmations to treasure and boost our self-esteem.”

So, dear readers - would love to hear what you think. One word in the comments that you think sums me up - can't be that difficult, can it?!

I'd like to pass this one on to:

Notes to Self Plus Two Red Shoes

The sisters over at Paris-Ankara Express (good to see you back!)

Mrs Scruff at She Was Not At All Domestic

#SilentSunday - 27 March 2011

2011-03-27T08:32:00.000+01:00

Review: Bart's Ski Gloves

2011-03-26T16:12:00.000Z

Firstly - hello, and thank you all for sticking around during my dry spell over the past few weeks. I can't promise things are going to get any less dry (wetter somehow doesn't really seem appropriate, does it!?) any time soon, but it's nice to see a few friendly faces when I venture back onto the site at least...

I can hardly believe it is over a year since I started this blog. One of my very first posts was about my trepitation with regards to going skiing again for the first time since having children. Well, last week ~~I put myself through the torture again~~ we spent another week on the slopes.

I have to say out of all the times I have been skiing, this was probably the week I enjoyed the most; in spite of the fact, or - what is probably more likely - because of the fact that I probably did the least actual skiing of any holiday! When it comes to skiing, it seems for me it is simple: less skiing = more enjoyment. It is of course logical - I don't get as tired, therefore I don't get as frustrated.

Anyway, before we left, I was sent a pair of Bart's Mens ski gloves to review by the lovely people at Chelston Direct. I had even come up with a cunning plan to get over my blogging lethargy - the original idea was that Mr B was going to do a guest post and review them for me. In the end, however, the size I was sent was a men's small, which of course were a perfect fit for me, but much too small for my husband. Seems I was forced into blogging it myself...

Having said this, things turned out quite well, as I only possessed one pair of ski gloves prior to this, and a spare is always handy. My previous pair was a cheap pair picked up when I was still unsure whether I would ever go again, and whilst perfectly adequate, were never quite warm enough on really cold days. I have to say this was one problem I did not have with these gloves - they definitely kept my hands toasty and dry all week.

If there was one problem with them, however, it was that they were almost a little too short, and I would often find a bit of a gap between the sleeve of my jacket and the end of the glove. Most of the time this was no problem at all. However, I can imagine that for someone who occasionally falls down (not me, of course, you understand*) this would be quite an annoyance, unless snowy wrists were their thing!

All in all though, I spent most of the week using them and was very impressed - only having to resort to my original pair on one day after a particular wet snowball fight!

(*ok, so maybe I did end up on my bum once or twice...in my defence, I don't believe any of our party, including some VERY experienced skiers, didn't fall down at least once...)
___

Disclosure: I was given a pair of Bart's ski gloves in return for this post.

#SilentSunday Sunday Mountains

2011-03-20T17:04:00.001Z

#SilentSunday - Silent Airport

2011-03-13T17:16:00.001Z

#SilentSunday - Still hoping for better weather

2011-03-06T12:06:00.000Z

Move Along, Nothing to See Here...

2011-03-01T11:12:00.001Z

I want to write a post.

I neeeed to write a post.

And yet... and yet... somehow I have nothing I want to write about. I seem to be in a state of limbo that leaves me restless, fidgety and unable to concentrate on anything for more than five minutes at a time. This translates into blog posts of a few sentences at best.

I'm sure it will come again. I just wish it would make it quick.

I need a holiday.

#SilentSunday - Crying Graffiti

2011-02-27T10:20:00.000Z

(and if someone can tell me why blogger has suddenly decide to rotate my picture round 90 degrees , I would be grateful..argh!)

Scaredy Cat, Scaredy Cat, part 2

2011-02-17T10:02:00.017Z

(This is the post I had originally intended to write when I completely digressed and turned the post into one about my own fears and the tales of Gainsborough Old Hall. (Oops, it turned into a post about me, me, me again, didn't it?!))

DD1 (soon to be 6) is scared of the dark. This is immensely ironic as she was one of those babies that could not sleep unless the room was so pitch black that it was impossible to tell which part of the room you were standing in.

Not only is she afraid of the dark, but this fear appears to be getting worse - it is also starting to apply to a slightly dim light, and it is also starting to manifest itself in the house when the lights are on. No longer is she happy to go to the toilet on her own past a certain time of the day. I practically have to hold her hand at all times. Bedtimes only work as she shares a room with her sister, and with the landing light on and the door "wide open - as wide as it will go".

I understand more than anyone this irrational fear - I struggled with it for long enough myself as a child. However, I can pinpoint the start of my fears to a specific time and a specific event. DD1's fear seems to have crept up on us with no discernible trigger.

Am I destined to accompany her everywhere once the lights go out? Will I be spending a fortune on nightlights for every room?

___

*Must buy DD1 this book, such a lovely story!

Scaredy Cat, Scaredy Cat - part 1

2011-02-15T11:33:00.011Z

I was a bit of a scaredy cat as a child. Frightened of all sorts of things that now seem completely irrational. My biggest fear for a long time, however, was a general fear of the dark, and ghosts and ghouls (I still can't watch horror films to this day!).

I can distinctly remember what first caused it in me; some friends of my parents lived (and still live) in Lincolnshire. The lady of the house (J) was a blue badge tourist guide for the county, and visiting them was always a fascinating insider's guide to the county's landmarks. One day, we went to visit Gainsborough Old Hall, a medieval English Heritage property with an imposing tower.

On the trip there, J recounted the story of the ghost of Gainsborough Old Hall - the Grey Lady. She was, apparently, the daughter of a local nobleman who had fallen in love with a farm worker and was subsequently locked up in the Hall by her father, where she was apparently driven to suicide. Since then, her ghost has been seen wandering the corridors, and doing that clever ghosty trick of walking through walls. There are also tales of another young lady that has been seen there, and a quick google search reveals an article in the local paper from 2008 that shows the appearance of a mysterious orb .

Suffice to say, being young and easily frightened, by the time we reached the property, I had a severe case of the heebie-jeebies. This was not helped by a sign in the "haunted" corridor recounting the story again in some detail, with a helpful sketch of what the Grey Lady might look like were to encounter her. (Perhaps unsurprisingly; grey and ghost like).

For years afterwards - well into my teens - the story of the Grey Lady stayed with me. More than anything, it was the one thing that convinced me at the time that ghosts were real. More than anything it was the one thing that made me sick with fright if I had to go to the toilet at night.

These days of course, I am way too old and cynical to believe in any of that nonsense. Every now and then, however, I still hesitate in a dimly-lit corridor...

I ♥ Me - The Valentine's Edition

2011-02-14T08:26:00.000Z

I'm very much a Bah Humbug sort of person when it comes to Valentine's Day. Maybe it's the combination of being an old married cynic for too long, or maybe it's the trauma of splitting up with a boyfriend on Valentine's Day when he chose A Question of Sport over a night with me, who knows. Either way, I'm generally to be found muttering about how I hate the commercial nature of it, and how if you need someone to tell you to be romantic, you're on a downward spiral...

(Case in point - Mr B and I popped into the supermarket on Saturday to pick up some bits and pieces. As we walked past the rows of red roses, he asked: "Want me to buy you some flowers?" My retort: "Nah, I would much rather you bought me some spontaneously" To which he replied: "But that was spontaneous! You can't get more spontaneous than that!!" See what the poor man has to put up with?)

Anyway, I am prepared to make an exception to my anti-Valentine's Day stance for the lovely Notes and her I ♥ Me Linky. Let's face it, I was hardly going to turn down this week's challenge was I - namely some fantasy shopping! Notes has challenged us to do:

"Window shopping on the internet. What would you buy yourself for Valentine’s Day. Spend as much as you like, buy what you want."

Well, she didn't have to tell me twice...

I thought I would start with some "traditional" Valentine's gifts, for despite what I may say, you can't go wrong with flowers and champagne:

Not red roses - too clichéd - but something more individual, a little bit different, and from a good florists!

So, as I am warming up to this idea, we'll stick with the tried and tested - a set of diamond studs. The biggest and best diamonds that money can buy, of course! Much as I would love a pair in real life, I do have too much of a habit of losing earrings to ever realistically warrant buying a pair...

Next, bags and shoes - I've mentioned before my obsession with the Mulberry Alexa. I'm afraid until I get this bag all other bags are ruined for me:

Let's throw in a pair of heels for good measure - something fun, something hideously expensive - just love these metallic snakeskin Gucci beauties:

..and finally, as I do like my homewares, and my home could do with some loving too - some beautiful new lighting so I can see my new purchases!

Heal's

See, I'm a simple woman really...

#SilentSunday - So That's Where The Moose Are Kept!

2011-02-13T07:32:00.000Z

The Gallery - 24 Hours

2011-02-08T19:27:00.000Z

This post is part of The Gallery, hosted by Tara Cain. This week's theme is "24 Hours".

The following photos represent a very typical weekend for me:*

Click on the badge to go to Tara's blog to see what everyone else has posted!

*this may be a lie

I Heart Me, Week 5 - How Do You Blog?

2011-02-07T16:31:00.000Z

This post is for Notes' weekly "I Heart Me" Linky. This week's question is "How Do You Blog"? Click on the image below to see what everyone else has linked up:

It is probably painfully clear to anyone that has been following this blog for a while that I am not the most consistent of bloggers. Phases of great enthusiasm follow deep troughs of apathy. Life is often busy enough - I simply don't have the time, or perhaps the discipline or inclination to blog it as well! (Last week's question being a case in point - simply didn't get round to it, sorry Notes!)

To me that is ok - the last thing I want is for blogging to become a chore - there seems very little point in putting something up half-heartedly for the sake of it. By definition then, blogging is something snatched and random - a moment when I have a few minutes to think, either when the kids are watching some TV, or in my lunch break at work.

Some posts will have been brewing for a while, whereas others are spontaneous and written down in seconds flat (and usually tagged with "rushed post" in the hope that anyone reading might forgive its slightly more rough and ready nature!). Some posts will have a very defined purpose, a point I wish to make - more often than not, however, they end in a random, meandering sort of wondering as my mind flits on to the next subject...

#SilentSunday - An Evening to Myself

2011-01-30T07:55:00.000Z

I ♥ Me - Week 3

2011-01-24T08:52:00.000Z

This week's question by the lovely Notes is:

What Mummy/Parenting behaviours ignores your me, making you want to laugh, scream or cry?

You know what it's like, I'm sure - as a surly teenager pretty much everything your parents do is "Unfair" - the things they make you do, or don't let you do, are done purely out of spite. Their sole purpose and aim in life is to make your life a misery, right?

As you grow older, maybe you mellow somewhat - come to realise that they had some good intentions behind what you considered to be their totally unreasonable expectations. However, there are still some things that you vow you will "never do when you have your own children". After a while, maybe you are lucky enough to become a parent yourself. You tell yourself you won't stress about what they do or don't eat... you won't get overprotective and react like a frightened mother hen when they step near the precipice.... you won't...oh... wait...

Because that's the thing about parenting - a certain amount of it is learned behaviours. Maybe you did decide to become a strict disciplinarian in rebellion against your parents' hippy, laissez-faire attitudes... maybe you buy televisions for every room in the house because your parents did not let you watch ITV as a child...or maybe you just have a strange aversion to wax crayons. However, deep down, I bet you still sing the lullabys your mother sang you, insist your child wears a vest if it falls below 18 degrees C, or holiday in caravans - because it's what you learnt as a child.

Occasionally it makes me scream at myself in frustration when I hear myself uttering the phrases - "hold my hand, this is a busy road", "are you going to finish that", or "do I have to say everything three times?!", and I think "I sound just like my mother".

Then I laugh, and think "Yeah, I probably do...and it's not actually that bad..."

---

Now run along and click on the badge at the top and pop over to her blog to see what everyone else has linked up!

Silent Sunday - The Shame

2011-01-23T10:00:00.000Z

Compatibility Dot Com

2011-01-21T12:03:00.000Z

Miki, via Flickr

The husband and I were sat watching telly last night when an advert for one of those online dating websites came on. Spurred on by the promises of true love and real compatibility, Mr B looked at me and said;

"I wonder if we would have come up as compatible if we had joined one of those dating websites?"
"What would you have put as your interests?", I wondered.
He had a think, and replied: "Skiing, Cars, Hockey, Slouching in front of the TV".
"Well, on that last one I guess we would have been ok..." I pondered; "...but I guess it's probably a bit more complicated than that these days. They probably use sophisticated algorithms based on multiple choice questions like whether you like animals...or stuff..."

As you can tell by the conversation, I've never had to use a dating website (ah, the delights of meeting your partner in the days when all it took was a drunken snog in a bar), but it did get me wondering on two counts; firstly, what sort of questions do get asked on dating websites to determine if you are compatible with someone (I was unable to ascertain this without registering on them, which seemed a little excessive even in the interests of research) and secondly, what compatibility is all about anyway.

It's fair to say that I had little or no interest in either skiing or hockey when I first met Mr B. He has since reluctantly dragged me onto the ski slopes (the things you do for love, eh?), and gave up playing hockey a long time ago. To be fair, he probably didn't share my love of women's shoes or yoga either. However, there's more to compatibility than the same hobbies - it's about a shared outlook on life, an ability to make each other laugh, and shared experiences. Physical attraction can never be of any harm either I suppose!

I guess at the end of the day a dating website (or newspaper ad, or any other form of matchmaking) is only a way of bringing people together - what people then do with that is up to them. Maybe it is just the modern equivalent of kissing a few frogs before finding a prince...

I've Got A New Look!

2011-01-19T12:37:00.000Z

Hello - come on in, don't be scared...

Yes, things look a little different around here, but underneath it's still the same old me. It's just now the design is a bit more "me" as well.

I can't take any of the credit though - all of that goes to the fabulous Liz at Violet Posy who managed to interpret my vague mumblings, read my mind and make me a lovely new blog design that exactly matched my expectations. (Thank you so much, Liz!)

I hope you all like it as much as I do (although frankly if you don't, I don't care, because I love it. So there).

I ♥ Me - Week 2

2011-01-18T14:18:00.000Z

So, the theme of Notes' weekly meme is I ♥ Me Monday. It can't have failed to escape your notice that today is, in fact, Tuesday, and I am terribly late (sorry, Notes!). Still, I am hoping the "my dog ate my homework" excuse will suffice in this case...

This week, Notes has asked us to answer the following question: What Do You Want For You in 2011?

Ignoring the slightly facetious answers (an Aston Martin, a Mulberry Handbag, Robert Downey Jr...) this one did make me pause. You see, what I want is probably work-related for the first time in a long time.

I'll admit that I've been lucky - things have fallen into my lap over the past few years without too much effort having been required on my part. I have somehow managed to be promoted twice despite having had two lengthy bouts of maternity leave and am now in a role that I feel more than comfortable with, and that has allowed me to find something vaguely resembling that elusive work-life balance that seems so hard to find.

However, things are changing. My part of the company is due to be taken over by a much larger competitor sometime in the next couple of months. My role, once a full integration process has been completed, will be redundant. I would be lying if I did not say this was worrying, however, my overriding sentiment is positive - there will be more opportunities with the new company, and for the first time in a while I can actually scent a real opportunity for change, which is more than necessary. I fear I have got stale and complacent, and (dare I say it) bored.

So, for 2011 I would like to feel stretched again intellectually, I'd like to get thrown out of my comfort zone and get a buzz out of working with new people and processes doing something completely different.

Wish me luck.

Blue Monday

2011-01-17T11:24:00.000Z

"Blue Monday (Also known as Black Monday) is a name given to a date stated, as part of a publicity campaign by Sky Travel, to be the most depressing day of the year."
Wikipedia

I Heart Me Monday - No 1

2011-01-10T15:15:00.000Z

My good friend Notes has created a new Monday meme -" I ♥ Me", where she poses a question each Friday, to be answered on the following Monday. This week's question is : "What have you realised about yourself through your blogging"

So, what have I realised through my blogging?

1) My inner extrovert is more important than I realised

I may have mentioned before that I'm a bit of an introvert. I am the sort of person who has few, but very close friendships - most of my friends I have known a long time - and I do not easily meet new people, other than very superficially. Yet the thing I enjoy most about blogging is the social aspect, the interaction with others, even if it is mainly in a virtual way. Heck - I've even managed to overcome my anxieties and meet one or two of them in real life, and guess what - they are actually quite nice people!

2) It's important to have a creative outlet

Whilst my husband reads my blog, and occasionally makes suggestions or comments, blogging is definitely "my" thing. It makes me laugh, it has occasionally made me cry, but most of all it makes me think. And in this day and age that can't be a bad thing.

3) I can make time for things I enjoy

You may not know that I have second blog - The Fantasy Decorator - where I indulge my love for homes and interior decoration in a purely amateurish way. As well as having two children and working full time, I honestly don't really know how I find time for one blog - let alone two. Turns out you don't have to have a perfectly spotless house either - it's much easier to dream about it online and close your eyes to the chaos of the real world.

Now click on the badge at the top to be taken to the original post, and see what everyone else has linked up!

Happy New Moan

2011-01-06T12:18:00.001Z

The husband has a cough.

I can precisely date the onset of this cough to just after I got back from my last work trip to Dubai at the end of November. It started off as a tickly little thing, but has since developed into a full-blown whoop, most pronounced at night. (I did try and get audio evidence this morning to demonstrate this to you, but failed miserably).

If there's one thing you need to know about me, it is that I do not react well to being unnecessarily deprived of sleep. To say I turn into a snarling, red-eyed monster zombie is an understatement. At 5.50 this morning, I decided enough was enough. I turned on my phone next to the bed, and texted him the number of the doctor's surgery, plus "That is all I have to say". As we are such a modern couple, he picked up his mobile from his bedside table and responded "Ah. You're not talking to me then".

In a straw poll of a couple of friends and some friendly twitter peeps, I realise I am not alone in occasionally feeling like I need to sort out him indoors. A large proportion make all family appointments, which just happens to include those for their husband. Those who stay at home see it as a logical part of their role - after all it only takes two minutes. For me though, even if I managed to get over my telephobia and make the call, I ultimately know that trying to make an appointment for someone who works an hour away is tricky to say the least.

However, the overriding niggle is the fact that, ultimately I am not his mother, and I refuse to behave like one to a grown man. If only it were not having a directly negative effect on my sleep patterns... (before you suggest it, yes, I can still hear him from the spare room!)

This morning was the final straw. I have threatened withdrawal of marital favours until the appointment is made.

I'll keep you posted.

-----
P.S. Christmas and New Year were lovely, and thank you to those of you asking - the office Christmas party was surprisingly enjoyable!

P.P.S. Mr Tin - I love you really. x

The Has-Been

2010-12-17T16:10:00.000Z

Believe it or not, I was young once.

I used to go out, and I danced the night away. I partied with colleagues on a school night and was at my desk not-too-bright, but early the next morning. A specific pair of skin-tight red trousers was legendary in certain quarters and single-handedly kept me in gin and tonics.

Sadly as is true for all of us, I grew up. My body grew weary. Then I had children and my weariness became a permanent state.

Nights out these days are few and far between. They involve clock-watching to ensure getting back in time for the babysitter. The luxury of the hangover lie-in does not exist with small children. Snuggling on the sofa with a glass of red and a DVD is just so much more appealing somehow.

This Saturday, however, I'm doing it again. I'm getting glammed up in a new frock, and I've purchased new shoes. I'm booked into the hairdresser's in the morning. The thing is, it's not dinner and dancing at a top London nightspot - it's the much more difficult social minefield of the office Christmas party (or Winter Celebration, as they are insisting on calling it - that's a whole different post right there - I mean, FFS!). Shoved into a soulless room with colleagues I barely know, let along like, eating a mass-catered Christmas dinner and trying not to drink too much so I don't fall over in the new heels.

Sounds appealing, doesn't it? Yet somehow I am ridiculously excited at the prospect.

Keep your fingers crossed for me. It can't possibly end well.

Bleat, Bleat

2010-12-15T18:20:00.001Z

My lovely friend Notes has tagged me to share my bleats with you. If you don't know what bleats are - they are too short for a blog, but too long for a tweet. Here, then, are the things currently bleatable in the Sardinetin household:

#moneymoneymoney A lottery win would be very welcome about now. By that I mean more than the £74 our work syndicate won a couple of weeks ago. It's been an interesting old year on the cash front (maybe one day my lovely husband will lift the embargo he has imposed, and let me blog the specific story), and Christmas ain't getting any cheaper. (I know we are lucky and there are people out there significantly worse off, so maybe I should wish the whole country a lottery win?)

#bahhumbug Owing to relatively last-minute changes of plan, we are celebrating Christmas at home this year. To say I am woefully unprepared is an understatement. OK, I admit - when it comes to most things, I am a last-minute kind of gal. Christmas, however, is normally the one exception. I'm usually the one with presents bought in July and cards sent on 1st December. Not this year, and it is driving me crazy.

#FairyDust I wish... No, sadly just the common or garden variety, I'm afraid. I do of course only have myself to blame. After all, hoovering is just so... well... bourgeois, don't you think? I'm much too Bohemian and intellectual to do such mundane tasks.

#wheresmymojomofo? I am of course, referring to my blogging mojo. It can't have failed to escape your attention that posts have been a bit scarce around here recently. All the usual excuses apply - work, kids, illness, Christmas. However, I will admit there is also a certain whiff of "eau de can't be arsed" hanging around the place (available in all good department stores). New year's resolution; must try harder. (All extremely ironic, really, considering I have been shortlisted for a blogging award - yes, me! Go on, click on the link and vote - you know you want to)

Who else fancies a good bleat? How about some of my new twitter followers:

Penny at The Alexander Residence
This Mid 30s Life
Muddleduck

Schools and Working Parents

2010-12-07T17:41:00.000Z

Warning: Ranty, incoherent working parent

Being a working parent requires organisation. It requires a strong routine and precision planning of military proportions - or so I like to pretend, anyway (this is obviously where I am going wrong). Homework, reading, PE kits, water bottles... they all have their designated times and days. My neighbour (also a full-time working mother) has an impressive system of post-it notes to keep track of when cakes are due in for the fundraising café, when non-uniform day is, what the deadline is for paying for the Christmas dinner.

The system of communication by school is fairly sophisticated - we get regular "parentmail" emails, and texts in rare emergencies. It is a true godsend, without which I don't think we would be able to function properly. Have you ever tried finding a note in a child's bag when that child has been at after-school club until 5pm when that child's favourite pastime appears to be sticking random bits of paper together!?

Despite this, every now and then we are still floored by a request taped to the classroom door - a recent example; "Could all children please wear black for their assembly on Thursday". For starters, I do not believe in dressing children in black - there's plenty of time for that when they are teenagers - but that's a different subject. No, what floored me was that this note was apparently taped to the door at some point during a Monday. I say "apparently", as I had to rely on other mothers to inform me of this.

DD1 goes to breakfast and after-school club Monday to Wednesday. I only take and fetch her to and from school itself two days a week. As it was, my poor, neglected child was the only one dressed in navy blue, mainly thanks to the fact that she had the intelligence to inform me of the requirement on the morning of said assembly.

Part of me feels guilty about even posting this - I do think my daughter's school is fantastic and tries very hard - but I know other people struggle with this as well. (It also leaves me to wonder how people who do not see their children's teacher at all every week can possibly cope - and vice versa, it must also be difficult for teachers.)

Do some schools still assume there will be a stay at home parent to manage such things, or am I being unfair?

Baby, You Can Drive My Car

2010-11-23T17:47:00.000Z

Beep beep. Beep beep. Yeah.

I don't seem to do much driving any more these days. Working from home most days means that my car stays mainly in the garage, and if it wasn't for one day a week in the office we could quite easily give up being a 2-car family. (There is of course also the fact that we recently spent a small fortune on building a double garage, so at least that is getting some use!). My husband on the other hand, has around an hour's commute each way down the motorway five days a week to contend with.

When it therefore comes to driving at the weekend, you would think that I would be happy to take over any driving, to give him a break. The truth of the matter is, however, that I am fundamentally lazy and would much rather be ferried around. Since the invention of sat nav, it's not like I even have to map read any more (which is a good thing all round, as I am sure we would be divorced by now if I did) and I can therefore quite happily sit looking out of the window humming along to the radio.

If I look at other cars on the road, I notice this is overwhelmingly the case in other cars - man driving, woman on passenger seat. My parents are the same, despite the fact that my father did not get a licence until relatively late in life (I must have been in my early teens), and therefore has a lot less driving experience than my mother.

We've all heard the statistics about women drivers being safer, so why is it still a case of:

Car = Manly pursuit

Answers on the back of an AA Road Atlas to the usual address please.

Answering Service

2010-11-22T17:33:00.000Z

This post is inspired by my Twitter friend Mr Drop4Three, who is much better at these vlogs than I am and is attempting one a month as part of #vlomo10...

I thought I'd at least trial the technology - next time I might even make an effort...

Random thoughts of the week

2010-11-18T12:26:00.001Z

(Forgive me, am typing on mini phone keypad)

In no particular order:

- Can someone please invent teleporting sometime soon?
- What some people consider hand luggage really takes the p*ss
- What is so important that you have to answer your mobile whilst on the toilet?
- Why don't humans have sleep reserves, like they have fat reserves?
- Hearing Band Aid's 'Do They Know It's Christmas' on Monday made me want to scream
- Seeing my first snow of the winter in Helsinki this morning, however,made me feel instantly Christmassy
- Every now and then modern technology still astounds me; amazing how quickly news of a Royal engagement in far-away Britain made its way round a Finnish conference room

Why is it. ..

2010-11-11T07:34:00.001Z

..that despite my best intentions, I never see much other than an office and a hotel room when I go anywhere on business?

Hear No Evil...

2010-11-04T13:10:00.001Z

Alison Curtis via Flickr

I happened to catch a trailer for last night's "File on Four" on Radio 4, which was apparently about young, British muslims being lured into fighting for a Jihadist group linked to Al-Qaeda in Somalia. In the end, I did not have the chance to listen to it, even though in some ways the subject piqued a certain macabre interest in me.

I've always been a bit of a current affairs buff. Force-fed a diet of Radio 4 ever since I can remember, I grew up with the Today programme starting the day, and PM at tea-time. Eventually, I even started listening to what was being said, and became hooked on the tales of political machinations of the day (the will-she-go-won't-she-go of Margaret Thatcher's final days being a particularly vivid memory). In-depth, background reporting of strange foreign lands mesmerised me.

And yet recently I find myself avoiding the news more and more. Part of this is down to the fact that I am just busier since having children, and when I settle down to watch television of an evening, I want mindless entertainment, rather than anything too taxing. However, there is also a part of me that just doesn't want to hear it any more.

Let's face it; bad news is just terribly depressing. Take international terrorism, for example - start thinking about it for too long, and you realise how hopeless the whole situation is. Whilst we in the UK had to contend with terrorism related to the conflict in Northern Ireland for a long time, with hindsight this seems small and manageable in comparison. There appeared to be a specific goal, and it was limited to a specific number of people. Compare and contrast this to the threat from Al-Qaeda and its cronies, where the threat could apparently come from anywhere in the world, and the goal is inexplicable and incoherent at best.

Don't even get me started on the apparently random acts of violence that you can read about in any local paper these days!

I sometimes look at my children and think - should I really have brought you into a world where you have to worry about what's in your ink cartridges? Where someone might just knife you on the street because you looked at them in a certain way?

So, forgive me if I don't read the papers as often as I used to. Sometimes I just think ignorance is bliss.

The Perfect Sandwich

2010-11-02T15:46:00.000Z

So, there I was this morning, listening in to an apparently endless series of conference calls, whilst simultaneously keeping an eye on Twitter (multitasking of course being an incredibly important skill that I need to practice to keep me sharp for the workplace), when I spotted a tweet from Jay, highlighting her latest blog post. I popped over, and promptly regretted the fact that I had not yet eaten lunch. It prompted such a rumbling in my tum that I started fantasising about food...

All I had time for today, however, was a sandwich. This did not bother me at all - in my eyes, the humble sandwich is a wonderful invention, and has been a regular meal for a lot of the British population since it was invented.

So it got me thinking - if I was only ever allowed one single kind of sandwich to eat for the rest of my life, what would I choose? First, I thought of tasty Scandinavian open sandwiches - maybe a bit of smoked salmon on rye bread...

...but much as I love them, I had to dismiss them purely on the grounds of practicality - sadly, they're not really great in a packed lunch. The rye bread is not soft enough to absorb the topping, and a sandwich needs to be "closed" to keep it from falling apart.

I would therefore like to sing you the praises of the humble cheese sandwich. Not just any cheese sandwich, however - there is a definite art.

The bread has to be fresh, cut by hand from a loaf. I don't mind if it is white or wholegrain, as long as it has the right amount of softness in its bite. The cheese has to be a thick chunk of mature farmhouse cheddar - smooth and creamy, yet with the right amount of nutty bite and crumble. Add to this some juicy tomato slices, and a crispy lettuce leaf. No pickles, no sauces - I wouldn't want anything to spoil the cheddar.

Perfect.

Go on - tell me; what's your favourite sandwich? I'd love to know!

(By the way, to work out the dimensions of your perfect cheese sandwich, try the Cheddarometer! )

The Movie of My Life

2010-10-29T19:46:00.000+01:00

I know I've been a bit of a lightweight on the posts recently. I'm not going to apologise, that's just the way it goes. However, there's nothing like a meme when the blogging inspiration is not flowing. Nickie over at Typecast and She Means Well both posted on a loose theme along the same lines, namely what a film of their life would look like, and it got me thinking about who would play me in a silver screen version of my life.

Now, I don't know about you, but I've only ever been told that I look like someone famous twice in my life - both times by men trying to get access to my underwear, so I didn't really take it that seriously.

Bizarrely, the first time, I was likened to a "young Grace Kelly" - very flattering, I'm sure you'll agree, although bizarre mainly due to the fact that I was actually dressed as Magenta from the Rocky Horror Show at the time. (A most memorable night, during which there was no longer any doubt whatsoever about the sexuality of my friend M, after he rolled up in full Frank 'Nfurter costume...)

Spot the Difference

Anyway, as is widely known, Grace Kelly sadly no longer resides with us, so having her play me in a story of my life would probably be slightly tricky.

Moving on to only second person I have ever been compared to; Nina Persson - lead singer of Swedish band The Cardigans:

I think the comparison was mainly based on the Scandinavian cheekbones that we share, although I do actually think that she looks a bit more like mummyblogger in the pic above!

Anyway, as she's not really Hollywood enough, I've finally decided to go with (...drumroll please...):

Yes - Drew Barrymore - mainly as she does the slightly goofy ingénue so well, and I can't hide my slightly clumsy and haphazard side, no matter how I try to be the graceful swan. Pictured above with a certain someone my husband used to get compared to when we first met (this was the mid-nineties, when anyone with a floppy fringe liked to think they were straight out of Four Weddings and a Funeral).

I think these days he's less Hugh Grant, and more Robert Downey Jr, though:

I so would

Anyway, as this wasn't really a meme that got passed on to me as such, I'm not going to tag anyone, but am going to leave it open to any of you that feel you fancy a go.

Random Silliness

2010-10-26T11:48:00.000+01:00

After yesterday's slightly whingeing post topped by a terrible night's sleep, I'm definitely in the mood for something light-hearted this lunchtime and for some reason I couldn't get this out of my head. The clip below has my two favourite ingredients; namely Muppets plus The Sound of Music. What's not to like?

I Need to Learn To Say No

2010-10-25T15:46:00.000+01:00

source

- The vomiting bug has entered our house. It has taken out the two smallest members of the household, and is bound to come looking for the adults some point soon.

- I'm washing and ironing like it's going out of fashion (see above)
- I'm trying to do a day job whilst spending 90% of my time being asked questions for "integration" due to co. takeover
- I've just agreed to take on the departmental newsletter
- I have a tonne of blog memes I am probably never going to get around to doing (sorry to anyone that has tagged me)
- Still haven't worked out what to buy husband for his 40th and time is running out fast (any ideas for the ultra-fussy man who has everything?!)

To say life is a little hectic at the moment is an understatement. Half term holiday?! Ha.

In Which I Admit I Am A Cowardly Custard

2010-10-14T17:43:00.000+01:00

My mother has always been considered...how can I put this politely...somewhat overcautious when it comes to health and safety by my father, my brother and myself. She was always the one that would freak out if we tried to climb a wall, or go too close to the edge of a high building (her own vertigo didn't help). I have always been very conscious of the fact that I should try and avoid being too cautious with my own children.

Turns out it's not actually that easy.

Maybe it's conditioning, maybe it's some kind of deep maternal instinct, but I have started to see the worst in all possible situations. Most of the time I can keep these fears under control. The only time I can't is when it comes to road safety. We have had a very close shave with each of our children - occasions that left me literally shaking and sobbing with the thought of what could have happened, had luck not been on our side. We live on quite a busy road, in quite an urban area, so trips to and from pretty much anywhere involve negotiating road safety. I am slowly starting to trust DD1, who at 5 and a half at least knows not to run out into the road, and allow her a little more freedom. I still insist on her holding my hand most of the time when we cross, however. I do still insist on DD2 (2 years younger than her sister) holding my hand whenever we are walking by a road.

I bumped into an acquaintance the other day, who also has two daughters, the eldest of is not quite yet 3. We walked through the park, with said eldest daughter on a little self-propelled car, while my friend pushed her youngest in a pushchair. At the edge of the park there are some large, wrough-iron gates, which lead straight onto a road. This road is not particularly busy, but there is a wall on the corner that makes it difficult to see any oncoming traffic. The gates were open, and the little girl (let's call her I) was merrily pushing her way towards them, showing no sign of stopping. Her mother did not bat an eyelid when she proceeded through the gates into the road. It was only when we saw the lorry approaching that she shouted out to her daughter that she should have been more careful and looked where she was going. Thankfully, the lorry was driving slowly and stopped, however, I could not help thinking that things could have been different.

I was obviously somewhat surprised at the mother's calm reaction, given my own fears. I don't want to judge her - the example is merely an illustration of the point that children and road safety probably don't mix very well. I am just as guilty of what others might consider horrible lapses of judgement. However, I am curious as to what everyone else's experiences are on this.

Do you let your children cross the road by themselves? At what ages did you start, and how did you make sure they knew about road safety?

Learning to Love my Legs?

2010-10-13T18:26:00.000+01:00

Review post

I'm getting to that stage in life where I feel comfortable in my skin. I have come to terms with the fact that certain bits wobble more than I would like, and gravity and the fact that I have had two children is taking its toll. You can do amazing things with a bit of scaffolding and a spot of padding. However, one thing that I have always hated is my legs (once unkindly, but fairly, likened to those of a footballer). This has meant that I have learnt through bitter experience to steer clear of skinny jeans and leggings, and skirts and dresses only come out on very rare occasions.

When I therefore recently won a giveaway on the lovely blog of my style guru for a pair of children's tights from Tights Please, I mentioned something along these lines in my comment. This was picked up by the marketing assistant fromTights Please, who kindly asked me if I would like to try some new leg wear for myself to see if I could be persuaded to "get my legs out" a little more often.

I'll be honest - I was sceptical. My leg loathing is pretty well ingrained and has been for as long as I care to remember. However, I gave in and thought - what the hell. Which is how I found myself with a pair of the "Gladdis tights" by Red or Dead:

Glorious Gussets!

I've always been a sucker for nice packaging, but I suppose it is what is inside that really counts:

...and I don't know about you, but I do think my legs have looked worse.

Who knows? Maybe I'll even get my legs out more often...

You have been warned.

Licking Windows*

2010-10-09T11:48:00.000+01:00

Photo by Elvis Payne via Flickr

I have forgotten how to shop. Actually, let me rephrase that; I have forgotten how to window shop, how to browse. (I am of course perfectly capable of remembering the basics of shopping - pick up goods, take to till, pay, etc).

Since having children I rarely get time to myself to wander aimlessly round the shops. Shopping has become a purely functional experience - get in, get what you want, get out. Going as a family is worse, as it involves one of us running around after the kids, whilst the other goes through the well-oiled routine.

I went into town yesterday for a hair appointment, and happened to find myself with a spare half an hour. I almost felt lost. I walked around shops in a daze, not knowing quite what I was supposed to do. There was nothing I had specifically come for - why should I waste precious time looking at things that were of no interest? The sight of Christmas decorations frightened me, and the people loitering started to irritate me. In the end I bought some tights in Marks & Spencer's and fled.

I think I'll stick to the internet in future.

--
*Have always loved the French term for window shopping -"lecher les vitrines" - "to lick the windows"

I Am A Twitterholic!

2010-09-27T18:12:00.000+01:00

Alethea, over at Mom-on-a-Wire has tagged me in the Twitterholic meme, originally created by Kate. You have to answer the questions, then tag other ~~unsuspecting addicts~~ lovely bloggers.

When did you join Twitter?

(You can find the exact date at bwitterday.com)

I actually joined Twitter June 22nd, 2009, but I think it's fair to say that I didn't really actively use it until some point early this year.

Why did you join Twitter?

I think my main reason was that I had seen so much about it in the media and was curious. Plus, I was drawn in by the promise of celebrities to stalk!

Who is/was your oldest follower? Who did you follow first? Tell me all about them.

(firstfivefollowers.com will give you this info)

The person I first followed was Stephen Fry (isn't everyone's?)

The first person who followed me is - believe it or not - Gene Hunt!

Do you have any celebrities following you or have you ever had a DM from a celeb?

I think the most famous person is John Cleese. I have no idea why, other than I think I may have been the first person to react to a tweet he once sent! I keep the e-mail from Twitter stating that he is following me under my bed. As he is a Comedy God I do wonder what he sees in my mundane witterings about work and children!

If you could follow anyone who is not on Twitter - alive, dead, real or fictional - on Twitter who would it be?

I know it's predictable, but Albert Einstein - I think he'd give good tweet!

Which came first Twitter or the Blog?

Twitter. I detailed why in my first ever post.

I would now like to tag:

Chrissie at Mediocre Mum

Nova at Cherished by Me

Wilderness Chic

Julia at What Will Julia Do Next?

Mummy Limited

To have a go, the rules are:

Nick the badge and mention the person who tagged you.
Answer the questions.
Select some more fab bloggers who tweet to continue the meme.

Can We Ditch The Term "Working Mother", Please?

2010-09-24T13:14:00.000+01:00

This post was written for the Working Mother's Carnival, hosted by Holly over at It's a Mummy's Life. Once the carnival is closed, I'll post the final link where you can also visit other entries. If you want to participate, post your contribution and then e-mail Holly the link by 15th October.

---

I am a working mother. No secret there. If I think about it logically, it describes what I spend most of my life doing. For 35 hours a week, I am contracted to serve my employer. Sometimes I even do a little more than that (what can I say, I'm dedicated). The rest of the week I spend with my children. You could even argue that being a mother is not a job, but a status, a fact - I am a mother 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, regardless of whether or not I am at work.

This post is not about the rights and wrongs, the pros and cons, the tos and fros of working vs not working when you are a mother. It is, however, about the terminology "working mother". Despite the fact that factually it describes me very well, the phrase itself riles me - for three main reaons. (I am disregarding the fact that it does not encompass all the other things I am/do on a regular basis. I don't even have a problem with labels per se; I acknowledge that they can be a useful shorthand.)

The first thing that bothers me is the inference that by labelling myself a working mother, I am somehow saying that women who are mothers but are not employed in the labour market do not "work". Do Stay At Home Mums (SAHMs) sit around in their pyjamas drinking coffee and watching daytime telly all day? Of course not! I would be the first to argue that being a SAHM can be much harder work than spending time in an office. So why is it automatically assumed that only paid employment is work?

Secondly, according to the latest statistics I could find (dating back to 2008), there is only a gap of 5 percentage points in terms of women with dependent children who work (68%) and women without children that work (73%). Working mothers are therefore a lot more common that the media would sometimes have us believe. Women have worked for centuries - it is not even a new phenomenon. Of course, I appreciate that this statistic does not adequately reflect the different types or hours of work done by different women. It does not, for example, show how many women are in full-time work, vs part-time work etc (the page linked does go into this, if you are interested). However, it does make me wonder; if the majority of mothers are working mothers, why do we therefore even need to specifically pinpoint this group? Does lumping everyone together in a group like this really help anyone?

Finally - how many men do you know that would immediately and without thinking class themselves as "working fathers"? Most men I know would not even consider it, even if they reconise that the label is factually correct. I think they would be more inclined to define themselves more purely by their paid professions. If I were to ask my husband what he was, for example, he would probably just class himself as an "engineer" or "project manager" first and foremost. This does not mean that he does not take his responsibilities to his children any less seriously than I do - it is simply how his DNA has been conditioned to think. Maybe if there was more talk of working fathers I would be happier with the term working mother. One thing that will be interesting to see is if this will change going forwards as more men stay at home to look after the children.

(As a very slight aside, I was intrigued to find that if I Google both the term "working mothers" and "working fathers" there were actually more results (18.6m) for working fathers vs those for working mothers (9.7m), which goes against my argument above. However, the nature of the results was subtly different- if you look at the results, very few of those on the first page for working fathers actually use the term working as an adjective, but more as a verb - e.g. "working with fathers".)

I know I have a tendency to over-analyse things. Maybe that is what I am doing here. When all is said and done, maybe being a working mother is what best defines me - after all, I haven't been able to come up with a viable alternative yet!

Whether you are you a working mum, or a SAHM - does the label bother you, or do you just accept the fact that it is a necessary shorthand?

My Life In Numbers

2010-09-20T10:08:00.000+01:00

7: hours spent gardening over the weekend
29: number of plants still sitting in pots that need to go into the garden
4: limbs currently aching
2: Blogs I want to update
96: number of unread items currently in my Google Reader (down from 134)
6: number of things I need to make appointments with the doctor about (none of them serious, before you ask)
3: loads of washing waiting to be ironed
5: other things on my "critical to-do" list
8: number of times I have fiddled with my curtains in order to try and get optimal light level

The Gallery - A Celebration

2010-09-14T17:14:00.003+01:00

Bear with me here, I think I'm going to need to explain this one...

This week's Gallery topic is "A Celebration". Now, I could have posted lovely photos of weddings, birthdays, Christmas including lots of happy smiley faces. This left me with a dilemma. Whilst I have been known to share the odd photo or two on the blog, I do generally try and avoid them, and I don't really want to post pictures of friends and family without their knowledge/consent.

Of course, we had the ideal opportunity at the weekend. As I mentioned in my previous post, we spent the weekend at the 40th birthday party of an old friend. Much food, laughter and merriment* ensued. I may or may not have posted a picture on Twitter of myself drinking white wine straight from the bottle. Ahem.

I don't know about you, but there is something about too much alcohol that causes everyone I know to randomly start taking photos of inanimate objects. In the "olden days", i.e. pre-digital, this was the ultimate practical joke. You could guarantee that someone would have pinched your camera during the course of the evening, and you would never quite be sure what you would pick up from the developer (bread rolls, random feet, nostrils...). With digital such photos can easily be erased, which does take some of the fun out of things.

So in the spirit of nostalgia for parties past, this, ladies and gentlemen, is my photo for A Celebration.

I give you - Disco Balls:

Exhibit 1: Drunk Photo

*OK, I mean copious amounts of booze

Naughty Step

2010-09-13T12:31:00.000+01:00

The lovely Pants with names has tagged me in the Naughty Step Meme. To be fair - she has probably forgotten this by now; not because she is pregnant, but purely because it is such a terribly LONG TIME AGO - a lifetime in blogging terms. (What can I say - this little baby has been neglected recently in favour of my newborn - I have been a fickle mummy of late. Must. Try. Harder).

So basically I have to tell you who I would like to put on the Naughty Step until they feel suitably chastened and regret their behaviour.

We spent the weekend at the 40th birthday party of an old (literally and figuratively - ha!) friend, and a wonderful time was had by all (more of that some other time, perhaps). We are lucky in that we have a close group of friends that have stuck around for a long time. However, this does mean we seem to spend weekends trundling around the highways and byways from one end of the country to another. Whilst heading "up north" on a motorway this weekend, I was therefore reminded of who I would like to put on the Naughty Step, namely:

Middle-lane hoggers.

There is always one, isn't there? Sitting there in the middle lane, despite the fact that all other lanes are clear ...

I don't understand it. I can only assume that they fall into one of three categories - either:
1) Elderly drivers, deaf, blind and completely oblivious to other people's pain and frustration
2) Total egomaniacs who think the world (and therefore the roads) revolve around them, or
3) American tourists who don't understand that undertaking is not allowed round these parts.

The last group is the only group I will vaguely consider to have a legitimate excuse. So, unless your name is Randy and Jolene from Little Rock, Arkansas - move over!

As this meme has been hanging around for such a long time, I won't pass it on to anyone - if you haven't done it yet, but would like to, consider yourself tagged, and tell us who you'd like to see on the Naughty Step?

Arthritis in Childhood

2010-09-06T18:12:00.000+01:00

I was approached by Arthritis Research UK to see if I would mind writing a blog post to help raise awareness about Juvenile idiopathic arthritis (JIA, or arthritis in childhood). I agreed mainly due to the very simple fact that my grandmother and other family members suffered quite badly from rheumatoid arthritis and I had (somewhat naively, perhaps) associated the condition with the elderly.

Of course it is not quite as simple as that - juvenile arthritis is the not same as rheumatoid arthritis, and having the former does not necessarily mean you will get the latter. There is also not one single type, but it appears that the most common type is most prevalent in young girls. Thankfully most children will grow out of the condition, but in a small number pain and discomfort will be severe. The most common symptoms include:

- pain and swelling of joints
- morning stiffness
- in very young children, it could cause difficulty in learning to walk.
-of course as any parent knows, as very young child will not necessarily be able to tell a parent where the pain is coming from, so they might be generally moody and difficult.

however, rarer types might also include symptoms more usually associated with other illnesses (fevers, rashes etc).

If you think your child might be affected, your first step should of course be to contact your GP, but you can also find out more information by checking out the Arthritis Research UK website.

The Gallery - One Day in August

2010-09-01T08:12:00.000+01:00

29th August, 2010 - Glückstadt, Germany - Probably as far away from Bangladesh as you could imagine.

This post is for this week's Gallery.

Forgive Me, Mulberry, For I Have Sinned

2010-08-25T17:58:00.000+01:00

Spot The Difference

I bought a new handbag at the weekend. This in itself is quite an event, as I don't normally "do" bags.

I have also mentioned in a previous post that my dream handbag would be a Mulberry Alexa. When wandering past our local Next, I spotted a bag in the window that looked sort of familiar. Even husband spotted it. "That's a blatant copy of an Alexa, isn't it?!" he said*. I ummed and ahhed and in the end decided to take the plunge - the pricetag was certainly a lot more palatable than a real one! Having stroked a "real" one, however, I must admit it hasn't satisfied my craving.

In some ways I wonder how they get away with it, but I suppose they would say that there are enough differences to be obvious - the fact that it's not leather, and the two pockets at the front (hopefully the photo quality on the second is not too bad to make the resemblance obvious), but the inspiration is certainly clear.

Does it matter? Why do I have a weird niggling feeling that my purchase is somehow not quite right?

(*Guess the brainwashing is working, then!)

If Women Ruled the World

2010-08-23T17:49:00.020+01:00

President Tarja Halonen

PM Mari Kiviniemi

If women ruled the world, things would all be different, right?

In June this year, Finland elected its second female Prime Minister. This came on top of already having the country's first female President. Hardly earth-shattering, you might say - we are not talking about a global superpower after all.

Don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with the details of Finland's political shenanigans (this lot have had more practice at coalition governments than the current UK coalition have had hot dinners and to be honest I don't understand the slightest bit about it). No, what really interested me is what having both a female head of government and a female head of state actually means for the day-to-day running of the country. Is it noticeable?

Frankly, I don't really know. Having recently spent two weeks on holiday there doesn't really give me any sort of expertise on the subject. I would hardly say there was a significant "women are ruling this country" vibe, but then Finland is a pretty different sort of culture anyway. The truth of the matter is that Finland is one of the most gender-equal countries in the world (coming 3rd overall in the 2007 Global Gender Gap report by the World Economic Forum, and having recently been declared Best Country in the World by Newsweek, based on a number of factors, one of which was Gender Equality- the UK coming 14th overall).

Given all of that maybe we should not expect to see too much change in Finland with both a female head of state and head of government.

Let's take a look back at Britain's first and only dalliance with a female Prime Minister. Love or hate her (and she certainly seems to polarise opinion), there is no doubt that Margaret Thatcher certainly made an impact on the country. Whether she made a positive impact on women in politics is another question. Just a simple google search for this article seems to point to disappointment that her ascension to power did little or nothing to encourage more women to enter politics. At one point Thatcher said: "I owe nothing to Women's Lib."

Every now and then for the tiniest split second, I get the mad idea in my head that I would like to enter politics - to make a difference and somehow do "my bit". Of course, if I think about it for more than that split-second, I realise that what I really mean is that I feel I should do more in my community - "politics with small p". The thought of party politics is pretty abhorrent to me. I don't think I'm thick-skinned enough, and I'm too easily swayed by other people's arguments! From talking to my friends and acquaintances about it, I think a lot of women feel the same.

It won't stop me wondering though - what would it really be like if women ruled the world? Yes, it probably would be different, but are we really so naive as to think that all the problems of the human race would be solved? I for one doubt it - after all, when we can get so caught up in what is the right or wrong way to have and bring up children (see here for Gappy's excellent recent post on a similar subject if you have not already done so), you do have to wonder how we are ever going to agree amongst ourselves what the answer to society's ills are.

I don't know the answer. The fatalist in me thinks that the human race would probably still bumble along in more or less the same way - always genetically inclined to argue, fight and generally make a mess of the planet. The optimist in me would like to think that things would be that little bit better - I just wonder whether we will ever find out.

Which side of the fence do you fall on?

Wishing We'd Never Discovered Nick Jr

2010-08-20T14:33:00.000+01:00

DD1 is eating strawberries. She is wearing a white top and dribbling strawberry juice down it.

Me: "DD1, watch what you are doing, you are getting strawberry juice down your top"
DD1: "Oh"
Me (muttering under my breath): "...strawberry juice... stains horribly...never come out"
DD1: "Don't worry mummy, you just need to put some Vanish on it."

Come back CBeebies, all is forgiven.

---
(There's a longer post here somewhere on advertising and the effect on young children. Maybe I'll write it when I have a little more time to think.)

Telephobia

2010-08-16T17:24:00.002+01:00

Source: Dan Brady on Flickr

I think I might be sufferering from Telephobia (also known as Telephonophobia, apparently) - a fear of speaking on the telephone.

I know for a fact that I am not alone in this. I have had various Twitter conversations with people who feel exactly the same, and if I do a quick internet search it brings up countless forums on the subject. On the one hand, I am happy to discover that I am not alone, or a complete freak for not liking to pick up the phone. On the other hand, I work for a telecoms company, so this is more than a little embarrassing.

I like to think that my affliction is on the mild side - however, recently I have started to notice that it may be starting to affect the smooth running of my family. My dust is piling up on the surfaces as I have not yet called the cleaner recommended by my neighbour. That dentist's appointment has not made itself. The swimming lessons that my children were given on holiday somehow weren't quite sufficient...

How did this happen? As a teenager, I used to spend hours on the phone to my friends (favourite phrase of my mother's: "but you only saw them at school!"), but I do now think that this was more of a strange hormonal aberration than typical behaviour for me.

Of course, these days I am reliably informed that teenagers spend all their time either on something called "FaceSpace" or txting on their phones - can any parents of teenagers confirm that they no longer have their landlines clogged up? Do your teenagers even know what a landline is?

I do wonder if modern technology is more than a little to blame for my aversion to picking up the dog 'n' bone. After all, given the choice, I would rather book an appointment online than pick up the phone. The invitations my children receive to parties these days invariably include a mobile phone number ("I'll just send them a text..."). I even recently got told off by my father for mainly communicating with my parents by email. At work we have e-mail, instant messaging and even an internal micro-blogging tool similar to Twitter enabling me to successfully avoid ever having to open my mouth.

Maybe it is time to pick up the phone and do something about it.

P.S.: Whilst rooting around on the net, I came across this blog post: http://www.sufferingfromanxiety.com/general/social-anxiety-do-you-have-telephonophobia that has some very simple tactics to help overcome this fear for anyone else that might be similarly afflicted.
---
Update 17th August:. It seems that, according to this piece: http://www.wired.com/magazine/2010/07/st_thompson_deadphone I won't actually have to worry about this too much longer anyway - seems the phone call will soon be dead!

Introducing The Fantasy Decorator

2010-08-12T12:09:00.002+01:00

I am truly blessed by the fact that my husband is an understanding soul. Or maybe he has already started divorce proceedings without my knowledge as he has finally realised that I have gone stark, raving, mad.

Obviously I have too much time on my hands. Not content with working full-time, having two small children, a household to run and a blog to write, one sleepless night I was gripped by the thought that "I...need...to...do...another...blog..."

Without any more beating about the bush, I therefore present to you The Fantasy Decorator, which I will be using going forward to indulge my love of property p*rn.

If you get as excited as I do by teacups and doorknobs, feel free to take a look.

Don't worry, if bedside tables don't float your boat, just stick here for more of the same random ramblings.

(P.S. I've also set up a separate Twitter account @fantasydecor.)

Say Cheese

2010-08-10T14:45:00.000+01:00

Source: Silvio Tanaka on Flickr

Are you photogenic?

There are some people that just seem to photograph well. They aren't even necessarily always the ones that you would consider good-looking in the flesh, but a camera lens does something magical to them and finds something in their features that instantly transforms them. There are also other people who look exactly the same on photos as they do in real life.

My children love having their photo taken - and with the advent of digital technology they can view themselves on the tiny LCD screen in an instant. They will happily pose with a radiant smile, or pull funny faces, or even on occasion look solemnly into the lens.

I think it is fair to say, however, that there are few adults that would share this natural affinity with model behaviour. I personally am finding that with age I seem to get more and more self-conscious about being photographed. This is something that occurred to me while looking through our holiday snaps. Whilst I don't actually mind being snapped when doing something else (I like to think I don't actually look too bad if taken unawares), I hate more than anything that horrible moment when I have to pose and "say cheese".

On my return to work yesterday I found a request for a photo to submit to some kind of org chart destined for an intranet site somewhere. I confess I panicked.

I basically have two posing faces; the first is some sort of demented grin with mad staring eyes and ridiculously chubby cheeks, and the second is my attempt to look sultry and basically ends up with me just looking grumpy and thoroughly miserable, neither of which particularly convey the image of friendly professionalism I wanted to portray.

In the end, hubby did a sterling job at taking an endless selection and I managed to narrow it down to something that looked vaguely human. However, if anyone has the secret to posed photos not making me look like a complete loon, answers on a disqus comment below, please!

I'm Baaaack!

2010-08-09T17:55:00.000+01:00

At the risk of boring you all with the virtual equivalent of the holiday slide show (anyone else remember those, or was it just my parent's friends?) this is just a quick post to gloat about how fabulous our holiday was.

I know what you're thinking - "Finland? Hardly traditional holiday destination" - and to a certain extent you are right. However, in terms of the overall list of general criteria - namely weather (37 degrees!!), food (do love me a bit of reindeer, yum), attractions (daily beach and swim in the lake) - I think we managed to hit the jackpot.

Think the Finnish Tourist Board will employ me now?

Out of Office Autoreply

2010-07-23T19:26:00.000+01:00

Thank you for visiting The Sardine Tin.

Unfortunately, I am now out of the office with little or no access to this blog while I take a much-anticipated and (hopefully) well-deserved break. As I couldn't be bothered to schedule posts or arrange guest posters, feel free to poke around in the archives if you like, or just disappear and come back in a couple of weeks.

Julie

Quick Plug For A Good Cause

2010-07-21T21:19:00.000+01:00

This is just a very quick post to point you in the direction of something called the "Mona Lisa Million" being worked on by Dave at Mister Good Guy. This is a project that is trying to combine Website Promotion with supporting good causes. At the moment Dave has a limited number of free spaces going for anyone that would like to link their website, so if this is something that interests you, head over to Mona Lisa to check it out, where it is all explained much better than I could do!

The Gallery - A Novel Idea

2010-07-20T21:18:00.000+01:00

This week's Gallery Theme by Tara over at Sticky Fingers is "A Novel Idea". To quote Tara:

"A photograph which you think represents a favourite book or novel or even children's tale."

My chosen book this week: The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett, as it was a particular favourite of mine when I was a child.

We are lucky enough to live relatively close to Bowood House, which every year opens up its "Rhododendron Walk" for a limited period only. We went for the first time a few weeks ago, and it really did feel like a secret garden, as there were very few people there at all (we hardly saw a soul), with lots of lovely nooks and crannies - great for playing hide and seek in.

RIP My Teenage Crush

2010-07-18T21:15:00.000+01:00

DD1 and I were "enjoying" High School Musical over the weekend. I must confess, while I thought the film was harmless enough, it wouldn't normally be something I would choose to watch again. In some ways this surprised me a little. I'm normally a sucker for anything vaguely inappropriately too young for me. I have terrible taste in TV and films.

Don't get me wrong - I love a good documentary as much as the next pseudo-intellectual, and I do consider myself a bit of a current affairs junkie (I'm sure there's another post somewhere about my strange crush on John Humphrys, but this is not it), but I do like nothing more than watching a bit of trash that doesn't tax my mind too much.

However, I was a little sad to find that the male lead in HSM, a certain Zac Efron actually did nothing for me. I mean, look at him:

From a purely objective point of view I can see why millions of pre-pubescent girls swoon at the mere mention of his name. If I was twenty years younger I would probably be doing the same. Heck, if I were even ten years younger I would maybe secretly think he was a tad dishy.

The thing is, since having children of my own I just can't see teenage boys quite in the same way any more. I know you will tell me that most of the actors who play these sort of roles are normally considerably older than the boys they portray on screen (Efron, apparently is 22 - the actors who play some of the lead roles in Glee, for example, are also well into their mid- to late-20s).

This does concern me somewhat. Traditionally it is fair to say that I have generally gone for older men. There comes a point though, where this starts to limit the "laminated list" somewhat. After all, despite seemingly getting better with age, even George Clooney will eventually start to lose his looks, and I don't think I am quite ready to look at Mick Jagger in quite that way yet...

Sparks of Uncreativeness

2010-07-13T17:45:00.003+01:00

I haven't been feeling very creative recently.

The blog posts have dried up a little (certainly in comparison to a couple of weeks ago!). Mainly this is down to the fact that work has been ridiculously busy and I therefore have less thinking time. However, even at work my lack of creativity has been noticeable. I have a couple of things I have needed to do that, whilst not really a full-flung artistic extravaganza, are what I would vaguely class as "more creative than normal" - i.e. involving having to think about words and images.

I happened to catch a snippet of a programme on Radio4 last week called Grayson Perry on Creativity and Imagination. Sadly for some reason this is not available as a "listen again" option on the Radio4 website, and I therefore only have the few minutes I caught to go on. It essentially seemed to be a list of what he considered myths about Creativity and the creative process. The gist of his argument seemed to be that artistic creativity was neither easy nor particularly exciting (a lot of the creative process being "dull and repetitive" once the original idea had struck).

To quote from a synopsis of the programme:

"Grayson wants to (...) show how creativity isn't a mystery, but at the same time it isn't necessarily easily accessible."

I can see the argument that says that if it was easy, there would be thousands of great works of art by millions of people. However, what I didn't agree with was the inference that you somehow had to be special to be creative.*

A lot of the joy in writing this blog is not necessarily down to the fact that I have some kind of strange idea that I am going to get discovered for my fantastic writing - I have no such delusions. I have come to terms with the fact that I am never going to be a "creative genius". I can't take a decent photograph to save my life. My work will never appear in a great gallery or library. I do believe, however, that in their own way everyone can be creative.

You only have to look at the joy with which small children scribble their way through life, drawing everyone and everything with complete abandon. Why is this something that seems to be drummed out of us as we go through life, discouraged and disillusioned by both internal and external critics?

I would loveto rediscover some of that joy of experimenting, of letting myself go with something just to see what happens. Whether real life will really let me remains to be seen.

---

*Obviously I am making a big assumption that this was how the argument was going to pan out - as I said, I was unable to listen to the whole of the programme, so may well have got the wrong end of the stick. Feel free to correct me if you heard it!

Who Loves Ya, Ruby Woo?

2010-07-08T17:02:00.000+01:00

I am finally a grown-up. I have bought a red lipstick.

I actually bought it a while ago at Heathrow on my last trip out to Dubai, and have worn it the grand total of twice since then. This to me is completely irrelevant, for a red lipstick is something I have been hankering after for a long time. It is one of those iconic things that women are "supposed to have", like the perfect LBD (little black dress, for any men reading), the perfect pair of jeans, the perfect white shirt, a signature fragrance.... Apparently it's a STAPLE.

Despite the fact that I regularly wear make-up, I like to think I don't wear huge quantities of it - a slick of mascara, maybe a smudge of eyeshadow if I am trying to impress. I almost never wear lipstick, yet I possess quite a few in varying shades of nude, plus one or two bolder colours that seemed like a good idea at the time. And now - finally - red.

In my dreams, I suppose I imagined that I would wear red lipstick and look like a 1940s Hollywood siren. In reality, I only hope I don't end up looking like a little girl that has been playing with grandma's make-up.

I admit it - the lady on the MAC counter at Heathrow knew exactly what to say; "I prefer this one on you, it makes your eyes look really blue".

Ker-ching.

I must be a marketing manager's wet dream when it comes to lotions and potions. I am seduced by pretty packaging and promises of unbelievable results. Fake tan that doesn't streak, dry shampoo that gives your hair that "freshly washed" look, eye cream that de-puffs and de-bags, cellulite creams, nail hardener, foot polisher, hair remover... the list is almost endless. All these things lanquish half used in a cupboard somewhere.

Not all women are like this. However, from purely personal experience I think there are probably more women this applies to than would like to admit it - even women that class themselves as "low-maintenance" when it comes to beauty products.

Are we really all shallow creatures that can be bought with a promise? Or is it just me?

After all - it's only a bit of coloured grease.

The Gallery - Holidays

2010-07-07T14:57:00.009+01:00

Images of childhood holidays...

...and somewhere I am taking my own children for the very first time this year.

I Need to Get Out More

2010-07-06T17:56:00.000+01:00

Conversation with one of the builders doing our garage earlier today.

Him: Sorry to bother you, don't suppose I can borrow a spoon please?

Me: Yes, sure - just a teaspoon?

Him: Yes, I just need it to eat my tin of sardines.

Cue hysterical laughter from myself and puzzled look from him.

Clearly, my online persona is taking over.

Just Wondering...

2010-07-05T12:16:00.000+01:00

1) Why I bother having a window cleaner coming to clean the outside of my windows when the inside is so filthy you can't see out anyway.

2) How the greenfly got onto the basil plant in the kitchen

3) Why I can't get rid of the headache I've had for the last three days

4) How much each strawberry from our strawberry plants has cost us (answer: approx. £1.20)

5) Why I booked a whole day off tomorrow for DD1's Sport's Day and what I am going to do with myself in the afternoon?!

6) How I am ever going to write a coherent blog post again after being so in awe of all the fabulous ones that were read out at Cybermummy!

Mwah!

2010-07-02T11:57:00.007+01:00

Source: markfftang on Flickr

I won't bore you with how excited I am to be attending my first ever blogger conference - Cybermummy - tomorrow. I think I've done that enough. However, it has got me thinking about the etiquette of greeting people in Britain - especially those you have never met.

In Germany, it is customary to greet people with a strong handshake. The more Mediterranean cultures go in for kissing - although even this is not necessarily standardised. Even in France it differs by region as to whether the norm is four kisses or two. I am told the Polish compromise with three. Eskimoes rub noses (or is that one of these horrible stereotypical myths?)

What, however, do the British do? Some friends I hug. Others like to go in for air kissing (differing numbers thereof). Some very good friends are not really the kissy type at all and are merely greeted with a cheery "hello".

Trying to remember who likes to do what - for want of a better phrase - can be a bit of a minefield. Invariably it all descends into an awkward shuffle, much blushing and apologies.

Maybe that's the answer. If you meet an English person, just greet them by saying Sorry.

Just Ignore - Messing with Technology

2010-07-02T11:36:00.001+01:00

Trying out mobile blogging
What can POSSIBLY go wrong?!

The Alternative Boden Catalogue

2010-07-01T20:20:00.002+01:00

The Wonderful Dulwichmum is in the process of creating an "Alternative" Boden Catalogue. Some excellent contributions so far - go and check out her blog for the hilarious original inspiration.

Here is my little effort:

Tarquin wears jacket in "Bad Phallic Symbolism".

Likes: Jazz hands, Crochet and Being called Tara at weekends

Saskia wears dress in "Leaves left over from the hedge she was dragged backwards through"

Likes: Tarquin's cigar. 'Fnar, 'fnar

Don't Mention the War

2010-07-01T17:42:00.000+01:00

This post was originally drafted earlier in the week, but I didn't quite get around to finishing it. I had considered discarding it, as it is no longer really immediately topical, but in the end decided to go ahead anyway, as I am interested in other people's thoughts on this.

There was apparently some kind of minor football match on Sunday.

England vs. Germany.

For various reasons we did not actually watch it, although under normal circumstances I would have done. In the end, I don't think I really missed much anyway. It sounds like a 3 hour drive across country listening to an audio CD of "Harry and the Dinosaurs" on a continuous loop was definitely a better way to spend the afternoon.

No matter what the score or the performance of the England team, I never relish these particular games. The so-called "grudge" match. The two enemies. Following the game, the usual comments were made on Twitter reminding people of "Two Wars and One World Cup".

Let's take a step back here. Aforementioned World Cup victory was over 40 years ago. Germany have won the World Cup twice since then (three times in total). They have been runners-up four times in total. I think maybe that trumps one win, and er... no second places. Frankly, crowing about 1966 is an embarrassment in this context (although please don't get me wrong, I am as pleased as anyone that England won the World Cup at least once, even if sadly it hasn't been in my lifetime). However, there's nothing wrong with a bit of friendly sporting rivalry - local teams do it to each other all the time. This isn't my main bone of contention.

What does make me uncomfortable, however, is the references to the Second World War that get trotted out every time the England Germany game takes place. Am I the only one that doesn't consider a war in which millions of people died horrible, gruesome deaths something to really be treated this lightly in association with football? It is, after all - believe it or not - only a game.

I grew up and went to school in Germany, and still have a lot of friends, and even family living there. I like to think I know a little bit more than the average man on the Clapham omnibus about Germany and the Germans. I think the main reaction amongst them to the way the English harp on about the war is a certain sadness. They don't really "get" it. The main reaction from a German is probably incomprehension. It's not because they want to - or can - forget it, however, for them it is not really a joking matter, and I personally feel the same way.

Finally, I think it is fair to say that the vast majority of Germans consider the fact that Hitler was defeated as a good thing. Rubbing in their faces the fact that "they lost" is therefore not actually that effective as taunts go...

Am I being overly sensitive on this subject? Should I just lighten up a bit, as it's no more than a harmless bit of fun?

Or is it time for us to just get over it?

P.S. - I even know some Germans who quite like Fawlty Towers - any excuse to add this one - totally excruciating.

On A Day Like This In June

2010-06-30T07:03:00.023+01:00

This post is for both the wonderful Gallery, posted by Tara Cain, and Josie's Writing Workshop, which this week have teamed up together to come up with one theme for both words and photos.

The prompt is Emotions.

Nine years ago today, I married the love of my life.

I have a tendency to get a bit weepy at the slightest thing at the best of times, but there's nothing that is as guaranteed to set off my tears as much as a wedding, real or imagined. Every year, I like to dig out the album and look through the pictures, which brings up a whole raft of emotions. (This time of course I had the excuse of trying to find a picture for this post!)

Nostalgia comes to mind. I am wearing the dress and veil that my mother wore to marry my father. There is also a slight envy and longing for that old life. How young we look! How full of hope and opportunity. My husband's hair is thick and black. My eyes do not yet carry the bags containing the sleep robbed by our children. We are about to embark on the most wonderful journey - literally (a once-in-a-lifetime honeymoon to Tanzania and Zanzibar) and metaphorically.

My heart is tinged slightly with sadness at the memory of those that were unable to join us on our special day. There is a place in our hearts for these people, even if there is no place in the photos. Just as sad is the sight of faces on these photos of people we have not seen for a long time; friendships that have grown apart, marriages that have since dissolved.

Nine years is a long time.

Of course, the overwhelming emotion is one of joy and happiness. How could it not be the best party ever? The most important people in our lives were in one place sharing this special day. They had travelled from all over Europe to do so. Some had even brought baby bumps that were ready to burst only a week later!

The weather was that absolutely perfect English summer's day that comes around as often as leap years. The venue was the old English house of my dreams. The food was outstanding, the drink was plentiful, and as a result the dancing was ridiculously silly. I am proud to say that all this time later, our wedding still gets talked about as being one hell of a party.

"Love doesn't make the world go round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile."

Franklin P. Jones

Happy Anniversary, A x

Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition

2010-06-27T20:52:00.001+01:00

The three sisters over at Paris-Ankara Express have tied me to a comfy chair and subjected me to the Spanish Inquisition (please, no cushions!). This involves answering 10 questions, then developing ten questions of your own that you would like to ask other unsuspecting bloggers.

1) If you had enough money so that you never had to work again, what would you do with yourself?

I suppose this is a bit like the "what would you do if you were a billionaire" question in the 5 years meme. Husband and I were actually having this discussion over the weekend, and I think we both came to the conclusion that we would probably do very little in the first instance. We would take the kids to and from school, then do all those little jobs around the house that needed doing. In the summer we would tour Europe for 6 weeks, making the most of the school holidays and exploring all those places we had always wanted to go.

2) Do you knit or sew or do any other 'womanly' craft?
I have always been terrible at knitting and sewing, despite my poor mother's efforts. I don't think I have the fine motor skills for that attention to detail. The only vaguely crafty thing (and this is not necessarily just 'womanly'!) I do is a fair bit of cooking and baking, which is something I enjoy doing with the children.

3) Do you have a special talent that's unlikely to be noticed or that you're unlikely to brag about (like being able to brush your teeth with your feet!)

Nope. Not one thing. I am either completely transparent in my talents, or talentless!

4) Are you a meticulous planner?

Probably only when it comes to holidays - otherwise I'm pretty much take it as it comes.

5) Do you wear make up? If so how much, how often?

Yes - can't live without mascara. I have the most feeble, straight, thin eyelashes of anyone I know, which seems to only get worse with age. I look weird without just a lick of the black stuff and got fed up of people telling me I looked tired if I wasn't wearing any. If I'm going to work I'll also throw eyeshadow over the top.

6) Is there something you learnt as a child that you wish you could pick up again? A language, a sport, a musical instrument?

I was terrible as a child for dabbling in things and then not finishing them. Over the years, I attempted various sports, various musical instruments, and various foreign languages. The only thing I would quite like to do a bit more of is Finnish - I do feel a bit ashamed at how little of my mother's mother tongue I speak, especially as we are off there on holiday this year!

7) Do you swear in front of children?

No - I like to keep my swearing for those who might appreciate it.

8) Do you have any habits that you regard as childish?

Oh, too many to consider, but the worst is probably that I bite my lip a lot when nervous.

9) Jimmy Steward or Cary Grant?

Cary Grant - hands down

10) Vampire Bill or Eric Northman?

I watched the first few episodes of True Blood, but never really got into it for some reason. I therefore didn't really see much of Eric Northman. Personally, I'm also more into the tall, dark, handsome type, not really blondes, so would have to say Vampire Bill.

I would now like to pass my questions on to the following:

The Gherkin Jar

Nova at Cherished by Me

Belgravia Wives

My questions are:

1) What's the first single you ever bought?

2) Have you ever performed on stage?

3) Night owl or Early Bird?

4) What's your favourite kitchen appliance (and why)?

5) What's currently on the top shelf of your fridge?

6) Worst ever holiday destination (real or imagined)?

7) What time does your alarm go off in the morning?

8) You can only have nice hair OR perfect skin - which do you go for?

9) What would your dream car be?

10) Have you ever spent any time in hospital?

TV like in the Good Old Days

2010-06-25T16:07:00.003+01:00

Not content with being in the musical dark ages, I have this week come to realise that our TV viewing habits are probably more akin to those of my youth than a lot of people I know.

The World Cup has brought this realisation to the foreground. Now, I actually enjoy watching the World Cup. It is one of the big five sporting events that I do vaguely follow (the others being the Olympics, the Six Nations, Wimbledon, and occasionally, but not as often as before having children, Formula 1). However, there are occasions when even I get a little fed up of having it on every day, and every now and then I get the urge to watch something else.

What seems to happen in a lot of households (and here I am going to generalise horribly) is that the man of the house ends up watching the sport, while the female in charge goes off to the second television and catches up with CSI.

Notice the term "second television" there?

Technically, we also possess two televisions, if you count the "very tiny portable on the top floor that now no longer functions as we no longer have an analogue signal and whose internal aerial isn't strong enough for more than two channels on the digibox". Otherwise known as "the crappy portable". It's hooked up to our ancient VCR that only works if you physically remove the tape by taking off the top of the recorder with a screwdriver. Suffice to say, neither of them really get much use, and to all intents and purposes we are therefore a one television household.

I know, you are probably reeling from the shock right now. To make you feel better, it is a nice telly - nothing too fancy, but under 5 years old, HD and also hooked up to fancy PVR, so we're not completely steam powered. We rarely seem to watch anything "live" these days (other than beforementioned sporting events).

99% of the time I am more than happy with just that one television. Thankfully my husband and I share a similar taste in television. He even lets me control the remote occasionally. The children are at the age where all they want to watch is CBeebies anyway and are in bed by the time we do our viewing.

However, I do wonder what will happen when they grow older. Will they want a TV in their bedroom (something I'm personally dead set against)? Will we compromise and get a second "proper" telly for the kids? For gaming?

Am I naive in thinking that it will ever be like when I was young and the whole family congregated around the box to watch something together?

The Gallery - Creatures

2010-06-22T18:19:00.003+01:00

This week's Gallery theme is Creatures. Welcome, then to the little creatures that are the bane of my life in the summer:

Terrible photo I'm afraid (AGAIN), but this is the corner of our conservatory. It has a lovely permanent collection of spiders/cob webs that are annoyingly just out of reach with anything other than a long-handled brush. In the summer they do especially well at catching the flies that float in the open doors. I suppose they are useful from that point of view.

DD1 is learning about "mini beasts" at school at the moment, so she is fascinated. They are therefore kept there purely for educational purposes. *ahem*

The one where I think I am prejudiced for good reason

2010-06-19T07:44:00.007+01:00

Chav (Source: Wikipedia)

A chav (pronounced /ˈtʃæv/ (CHAV)) is a stereotypical rough young person in the United Kingdom. The typical "chav"—known also as a charver in Yorkshire and North East England^[1]—is said to be an aggressive teenager, typically unemployed or of white working class background,^[2] who repeatedly engages in anti-social behaviour,^[2] such as street drinking, drug abuse and rowdiness, or other forms of juvenile delinquency.A chav (pronounced /ˈtʃæv/ (CHAV)) is a stereotypical rough young person

- -

I will freely admit I'm a bit of a snob. I have a tendency to judge people. I think this is, however, part of human nature. At least I recognise my affliction, so I can work towards overcoming it.

However, let me paint you a picture of something I witnessed recently, and perhaps you can tell me if you think my reaction was rash.

I was walking through our local park on my way to pick up the children from school/nursery on one of my shorter working days. In front of me I saw two men attempting to light what looked like a cigarette. They were pushing a baby (approx. 9 months) in a pushchair, and were also accompanied by a toddler, who must have been around 2.

One of the men was slightly overweight and dressed in a too-tight vest top and shorts. The other, probably in his early 20s, was wearing a football shirt and baggy jeans, had that strange greasy combed forward hair, several earrings and the sallow, spotty skin that instantly screamed of a diet of junk and not enough fruit and veg.

Judgement number 1: they are obviously not working, and they do not look like the kind of men who have CHOSEN to be stay at home dads.

Judgement number 2: they are smoking with small children around (although, granted, we were outside, so that could, technically, be forgiven)

As I overtook them, I realised that basically every other word was f*ck. "F*ck this, f*ck that, f*cking pot".

Oh, so it wasn't a cigarette they were trying to light.

I bet I'm not the only one wondering about the children now, am I?

Defence Mechanism

2010-06-17T16:27:00.005+01:00

Recently I've been feeling off-balance, unsure, permanently on the back foot.

This feeling seems to have crept up on me slowly. The thing is, I know exactly what is causing it. I know exactly what I "should" be doing to tackle it head-on. Instead, I bury my head in the sand. I ignore it and hope it goes away. I have never been good at confrontations. I hate conflict. I procrastinate and let myself get distracted. The more I do this, the worse it gets. The problem grows and takes on a more sinister nature until it seems almost insurmountable. I freeze completely. I turn in on myself.

Attack is the best form of defence.

I just need to find a weapon.

Source: Sea Defences by ny156uk on Flickr

The Gallery - Motherhood

2010-06-15T17:59:00.005+01:00

This week's Gallery prompt is a tough one.

Motherhood.

I wracked my brains. I went through pictures of myself with the children. I went through pictures of my mother with me. They were beautiful and meaningful, but didn't feel quite right. I wanted something more abstract. I dismissed the piles of washing and close-ups of crow's feet. I dismissed the drawings on the wall.

In the end, I settled for this:

Before you all start rolling your eyes and wondering what the hell a pair of wellies has to do with motherhood, let me explain.

Before I had children, the last time I possessed a pair of wellington boots was probably when I was a child myself. Motherhood makes the need for stilettos into a luxury, rather than a necessity.

They represent sacrifice.

They represent comfort.

These wellies have splashed in the best puddles and walked in the best parks.

They represent fun.

These wellies are regularly worn by my children, who love nothing more than dressing up in mummy's shoes.

They represent empathy.

They are a bit messy and worn, but definitely loved.

Me, Me, Me

2010-06-14T09:38:00.003+01:00

A couple of kindly bloggers have set up Linky things for all those going to Cybermummy to introduce themselves to each other.

So, my name is Julie, and I blog here at the Sardine Tin. You can find me on Twitter @SardineTin

I'm 5'6", and have blonde shoulder-length hair and blue eyes. In fact, I look like this (apologies to all those of you I have annoyed with this previously).

I'm a full-time working mum to 2 little girls.

My biggest weaknesses are cheese and shoes.

I will be the one trying very hard not to be wearing jeans (only time will tell whether I will have succeeded).

How on earth do you introduce yourself to someone you've never met? What else do you want to know!?

Maybe the best way is to just ask...

In the meantime, here are my feet:

Musical Youth (or lack thereof)

2010-06-12T07:39:00.000+01:00

Source: Flickr

I need your help.

I fear I am living in the musical dark ages.

Not only do I not possess an iPod*, but 99% of the music I end up playing seems to pre-date 2005. Granted, since having children that are old enough to express a preference, the CBeebies CD seems to be the only thing that is an acceptable musical soundtrack to our lives. Well, that, or "Sha La La La". However, I can't help thinking that I should be branching out a little and exploring new things.

It appears to be a fact of life that having children means things you might have done"BC" fall a little short. I don't read as many books as I used to. My previous "annual" pass to the cinema would not provide much use for my annual visits. Lazy afternoons in the pub aren't quite as lazy anymore. All of that I expected.

What I didn't expect was that my music listening habit would change. After all, music is something you can have on in the background, even when you are doing other things. Music drowns out the sound of the washing machine, and calms a fraught mealtime (note: this does not apply if you are playing The Prodigy).

I have become lazy in my choices - sticking to the tried and tested. Listening to things that evoke a nostalgia for my youth.

So, tell me - what should I be listening to?

After all, I've got Spotify, and I'm not afraid to use it...

---

(*or similar - other personal music players are also available, although technically I now have that functionality on my phone)

A Walk Around My Garden

2010-06-09T17:47:00.010+01:00

This week, I thought I would try participating in the Writing Workshop, hosted by Josie over at Sleep is for the Weak. Josie hosts this workshop every week, and I have not really found the courage or the time to participate before. However, when I saw one of the prompts this week, I had to give it a go. (It also fortuitously coincides with hubby being away on a business trip and me having time to myself of an evening to think and write in peace).

Each week, Josie gives several prompts; the idea is to choose one and write a post around it. The prompt I have chosen is:

3. Take a walk around your garden. What do you see there? Or tell us what you dream of seeing when you step out of your back door.

If you have read this blog before, you will know we are currently in the middle of project "New garage and garden makeover". My post is therefore about what I imagine the "after" to be like.

---

Nature is wild, nature is unruly. For the last three years we have not really attempted to tame it - it has had the upper hand in our garden since we moved in to our current house. Occasionally I look enviously at our neighbour's garden. In comparison to theirs, ours has been a veritable jungle. Their garden is clean and orderly. There have been complaints about leaves (leaves!?) and rotten pears dropping over the fence. Their garden is almost clinical. Actually, I know I do not want a garden like that. So what do I want?

Yes, I dream of order and clean lines, but I also dream of a space that is not so shackled that nature cannot flourish. A space where nature plays its part. To me, a garden is a living thing - the beauty of it is that it evolves and changes over time and with the seasons. I dream of beauty, but mainly I dream of colour - all the colours of the rainbow; deep purples and pinks, vibrant reds and oranges against a sea of green. I dream of year-round colour and interest.

I dream of a space for family. Somewhere for the children to play - to play in safety. Somewhere where the blasted swing/slide combo doesn't obscure our view of everything!

I dream of a space for me. Somewhere to sit and think, just staring into space. Somewhere to listen to the sounds of the world - our strange little suburban world, where the sound of birdsong from the nearby park mingles with the traffic from the urban streets. I can smell lavender and freshly mown grass. I can hear the buzz of the bees as they go along their merry way.

I dream of a space for friends, of finally being able to properly "entertain". Somewhere for the barbecue, a place for the table and chairs. Gentle lighting to illuminate the warm summer evenings*. Jugs of Pimm's, glasses of wine and laughter.

That will be my garden. Soon.

(*I'm an eternal optimist, 'kay?)

Earrings for babies - for or against?

2010-06-07T17:52:00.000+01:00

Yes, I'm harping on about piercings again.

DD2 went to a lovely birthday party over the weekend - there was sunshine, bouncy castle and cake - what more could a three year-old ask for?

As I looked around at the other children, I noticed that quite a few of the girls (ranging from around 2 months to 4 years) all had their ears pierced. I was a little surprised by this. I know in some cultures, it is customary to pierce baby girl's earrings when they are still tiny, but this is not something I had seen quite so "en masse" in this country before.

I'm guessing the main reason that people do this is that they think it looks pretty. Maybe there is also a certain amount of "getting it over with" when they are young - after all, if they are going to have them done at some point, why not just do it straight away?

You may have guessed that the very fact that I am writing this post means I am not a fan of pierced ears on very young children. To me, having ears pierced has always meant a certain rite of passage - it is something I associate with growing up, and I therefore just think it looks strange. I personally also remember the discomfort associated with first having my ears pierced - not something I would necessarily wish on a baby.

Finally, to me there is something somehow wrong about a baby wearing jewellery (somehow these piercings often seem to go hand in hand with bracelets etc) - I can't even really qualify what it is, maybe it is the fact that I am just not really that used to it. If I had grown up elsewhere, maybe I wouldn't even notice (I seem to recall seeing it more often in France, for example, and I know it can be common on the Indian subcontinent.)

Besides, what are they going to rebel about, when they are older?!

Bog Roll on the Blog Roll

2010-06-04T10:05:00.005+01:00

If you are wondering what this is all about, click here!

Two comments about this bog roll:

1) it is the wrong way round - you probably can't see from the photo, but the paper is hanging down the back, not down the front. I used to be anal (geddit!) about this, but the kids like to spin it round and round, and this way you do not get a trail of loo roll all over the floor when they do it.

2) love the simplicity of this loo roll holder, which we bought for the bathroom in our previous house. It doesn't go at all with our "faux Victorian" in our current house.