Bert: The epilogue?

Usual readers of the Blog will no doubt be intrigued by the title of this update.  Bert was, after all, the original inspiration for the Blog's creation but after many weeks of stalkerish like tendencies and, if we are honest, me having enough of too much unwanted attention (eventually), Bert was given his marching orders and, to give him his due, he marched.  At this point I should state that nothing ever went on with Bert and I , despite his best efforts, other than him invading my personal space on a regular basis.


Since this day, I have kind of lived with a sort of hesitation that I may see him when I am out and about and, like so many of the situations with Bert, I would have no idea how to deal with or handle this.  It must be coming on for three months since the last contact with Bert and I had probably got a little comfortable - I mean, if I haven't seen him out and about by now, then I probably won't....... right?


So, Little D and I went to a Christening and evening shindig last night and were partying the night away until 11pm (Little D is just coming up for 5 remember), I had thought she would have pegged out much before this, but no, that girl can party like the best.  We were actually the only people on the dance floor for quite some time.  In the back of my mind I had another one of those rules - "drunk women, always the first on the dance floor", although clearly this did not apply to Little D (I may let her stay up and party with the big kids once in a while but I draw the line at wine - before any of your start ringing the social).  


Fortunately for me, Little D then slept in until 9.30 - I was having some sort of nightmare that she would trot in at 6am but she is like her mother in more sense than one and so she was wanting her sleep.


I did not think I had drunk much - after all, I was responsible adult - but I did seem to wake up with a bit of a wine head this morning.... even Little D said "mummy do you have a wine headache" - I should stress that this has not come from any of my previous behaviour but more why I have explained to her why she cannot drink wine "because it will give you a headache".


I find it annoying that some nights you can drink four glasses of wine and be fine in the morning and yet on others you wake up with a "wine headache".... but hey


Once sorted we trolley-ed out to the supermarket to stock up on picnic stuff (we are off to the zoo tomorrow).  Little D decided today to take baby in her pushchair (that is a doll, I do not have an undisclosed child), which is fine but she does like to push the pushchair at the speed of light and, in the supermarket on a Saturday, it does mean I have one eye on my trolley and another on how many people she may potentially mow down, whilst barking directions of "left, right, will you just wait until it is your turn.... etc"


In the fruit and veg aisle (which is always full of people), heading towards the bananas (is this too much information?  I am scene setting.....) and I looked up (took my eye of Little D for one second) and saw the back of someone's head and this momentary panic hit me, inner monologue : "Oh holy fuck, it is Bert, I would know the back of that head anywhere (horrible curly hair) what do I do now" (remember, NOT equipped to deal....) and then, I saw something and the panic subsided......


....Bert, in his quite frankly disasterous, attempts to woo me had laid on a story about how he and his wife had split up, she was after his money, they still lived in the same house but separate lives.  It was not an impossible story (after all Tosspot was here for three months after he declared he was leaving), however, I did notice that Bert always wore his wedding ring, which is surely just odd if you are no longer with your spouse.  This was as far as it got in my head because to be honest, I didn't really care.


... so imagine how pleased I was in my momentary period of panic to see Bert with his WIFE.  You know, the wife he is no longer with...... I drew the conclusion that she was his wife for a number of reasons (not least his reaction when he saw me) but he looked a bit fed up (like a man who did not want to be in the supermarket on a Saturday lunchtime) and they were choosing fruit and veg together, pawing over it in fact. 


So, I saw him, he saw me.  I panicked, saw wife, stopped panicking because the world had then changed, I did not need to be equipped to deal with this kind of situation, he did.  I was very good, I directed Little D over towards the grapes and asked her to choose some because we all know how she felt about Bert and if she ran at him shouting his name and expecting him to pick her up, that, I suspect would be tricky for him to explain for the wife.


So me at the grapes, Bert at the bananas (they are about 6 feet apart) I looked at him and he looked at me, I looked from him to his wife and back to him and then raised my eyebrows with a smirk on my face.  He just starred at me with a pleading look as if to say "please do not come over and say hello or tell my wife I tried it on with you", and also, slightly shook his head whilst giving me this look. (I was enjoying this), I just cocked my head with my smirk on my face and turned back to Little D.


Of course, the thing about seeing someone you know in the supermarket is that you then continue to see them all the way round, at various different points.  He continued to look at me, I continued to ignore him outwardly but was laughing inside and also kept Little D on the straight and narrow with the pushchair and baby....


We left without any further contact but he must have been sweating it all the way round.... Little D is also quite loud and with me barking directions at her I suspect it made it easier for him to at least attempt to avoid the aisles we were in.


I can't wait for the next trip to the supermarket.......


What a tangled web we weave..... Bert


Also, did some drunk phoning and texting last night (seriously am I 17?).....  (not to Bert)

Norks and Running

So let's start with a question, how many long distance female runners do you see with big boobs?


exactly, not many are there....


If we think about the simple laws of physics then we can understand why


I also, have benefited from first hand experience of understanding why no-one above a C cup would choose to run any sort of distance at all.


I have had a number of issues in this respect, I might as well come clean, those of you who know me would have seen the size of my boobs so probably could work it out anyway, those of you who don't, what difference does it make if you know....  I am an F cup.


Since seeing the PT I have had three wardrobe malfunctions, whilst on the treadmill, involving my sports bra.  I am now on sports bra number 3  - which, to give it its due, it seems to be holding up. The previous two were the sort which you need a degree in engineering to get into, a kind of cross over straps, pull round your neck under and through.  Both of these, mid run, have suddenly gone ping and the strap has fired backward essentially leaving one boob bouncing around like a rabbit trying to get out a sack.  I have to hand it to PT, he slowed the treadmill down to a walk so I could try and sort myself out - would not let me get off, but did slow it down...


The new sports bra is one which is all one piece at the back and does up at the front, everything is secure and in place.  I have to be honest, I do have nightmares about what could happen if the front fasteners failed but its best we don't go there and so far we have not had to  phew.


The other issue with boobs  is what they actually, physically do whilst you are running.  When I run on the treadmill, because the gym is a special one which is only for use by PT's and their clients, there are no TVs to watch mid exercise..... instead the treadmill is directly in front of a mirror (I have asked if a small curtain or blind can be installed over said offending article but apparently not).  No-one wants to see themselves running, technique or not....


So I run, and can see myself in the mirror (aces).  All I can see is my boobs.  Even in sports bra they do a sort of figure of eight as I am running along - this is not good.  They sort of go up and down and round with every pounding step on the treadmill.  It is true and there if nothing I can to stop it.  I don't like looking at myself when I am running so I pick a spot on the floor and just stare at that.


I am naturally now hugely conscious that when I run outside my boobs are doing this merry figure of eight dance.  I swear if you watched them intently it would be almost hypnotising  lets hope no-one does that....


Fortunately, Race for Life..... women only event...


Fingers crossed the bra holds up......

Little D

I was having a bit of a "moment" this afternoon, nothing too traumatic, just one of those lulls in mood which sometimes happens for any number of reasons (we will not go into the specifics of today).


Little D has got a thing into her head (which I have not corrected) that if a boy and a girl kiss then they have to get married - a lovely view of life I think.


There was an onscreen kiss today and Little D looked at me, with that knowing look she does and says "they will have to get married" I said "yes they will" and then the conversation went like this:


Little D: You and my daddy got married
Me: Yes we did
Little D: Did you kiss daddy?
Me: Yes I did
Little D: Why did you kiss daddy?
Me: Because I liked daddy a lot
Little D: You loved daddy?
Me: Yes I did
Little D: You don't love daddy anymore.  
Me: Mummy and daddy are not married anymore
Little D:  I know, you don't love each other anymore.  It's ok mummy it's because I love you.


Bless her, always they say things like this when your mood is somewhat fragile anyway.


Then it went like this:


Little D:  Are you sad mummy?
Me:  A little bit
Little D: Why are you sad?
Me: I am probably just a bit tired
Little D:  Is it because you are missing your friend ?
(I mean seriously she is 4, how does she do this?)
Me: Maybe a little bit
Little D: Why don't you just go to your friend's house?
Me: I have not spoken to my friend
Little D:  Why don't you just phone your friend?




She has a point.  This simplistic view on life is probably one we should follow and nurture...


.... did I ring said friend, no I did not.  Needless to say it is more complicated than that and I am complex woman who thinks too much with bad, naughty inner monologue.....

Rules

I spoke to Mr Nice today, advised him that the blog was enquiring after him and my subsequent response.  Rather amazingly he did not seem to have any concerns about me blogging about him - see......... nice...........


Part of our discussion today - which we did laugh over - was the whole following the dating "rules" thing.  I think there are rules.  I cannot claim to know what many of them actually are, I like to think I know what some of them are, but suspect I have made them up.


One of the ones I follow for example is that unless I have something specific to ask, I will not text first.  Happy to reply and engage in chit chat, very much want to engage in chit chat, in fact, most put out when chit chat does not happen but..... will NOT text first..... Is this an actual rule?  Surely it can't be because when you look at it logically, if everyone followed this rule then no-one would ever text anyone except to ask what time tea was..... I possibly may want to reconsider this one....


I mention this because it was a "thing" this week.  Mr Nice has what we will call "Cave moments" (I bet he is regretting the permission thing now).  In that when he is very busy, the thing that he is very busy with gets all his focus.  This is a very good thing, but also a very bad thing - it means he cannot multi-task.  Arguably, he is a man and therefore multi-tasking would potentially not be on the agenda anyway but hey........


So busy busy man...... does not text Phantom.  Phantom does not next busy busy man (see rule above).  Almost 48 hours into this war of attrition, I then start having this inner monologue  - now, at this point, I suspect 90% of women reading this will be nodding and agreeing with me and all you men will be just shaking your heads in despair (I know this as it is in part how the conversation went with Mr Nice, his response was something along the lines of women being funny creatures)....


...so, the inner monologue, kind of bounced around like this:
He is busy, you know this
He has not text
Should I text
No you should not be the first person to text
He will get irritated
Maybe he is not OK and I should text
What if I create a reason to text to make it look like I have a purpose
He does not like me
He is busy
If he did not like you he would just tell you, you know this
What if he is in the hospital


I could go on but I think you get the idea....... and I would like to reassure men out there that this is not just me, I am not some total lunatic....I have scientific evidence to support this as follows:


Exhibit A:


Bridget Jones - we have all seen this.  The reason this film was such a hit is that in some way it rings true with all women.  They made an entire film about a neurotic woman in her 30s, disastrous in relationships, drinks too much and the whole film is based almost absolutely around her inner monologue.....


Exhibit B:


"Woman who think too much" - This is a book which someone bought me a few years ago (so before all this dating saga even became an issue, although perhaps given the events in my marriage I should have read it sooner).  They have written a whole book about women, over thinking and inner monologues.  They would not write a whole book just for me....


Exhibit C:


Someone I know has been with their other half for 40 years, married for most of that time and has three grown up children.  She recently said to me, she does not text her husband during the day when he is at work in case he thinks she is stalking him............ I know........ pause and read that again....... even I laughed at that one.......


But you see the point.....


Inner monologues are notoriously negative, nasty little buggers really.  I have decided in future to dowse mine with wine to try and improve its mood......


I think the inner monologue generally only causes issues in the early stages of anything, the need to be enticing I think, once we get comfortable the inner monologue focuses on something else... I think

Rowan's 48th birthday.......(or 42 depending on who you believe)

After arriving at Rowan's and changing out of my small uncomfortable pants (post wax) and picking off bits of green stringy wax from places that green stringy wax should not be, we were in full going out form.


We were being reasonably civilised - cinema, meal, "few" drinks.......in Barnsley...... whoop


After cinema, pub - which started well.  Rowan was like "oh look they have Rose wine" - it is true I am a Rose fan but it is a specific Rose.  I turned my nose up and made a NO face.  Which is when it all started (again).....


Rowan and Charlie generally like to mock me by calling me Posh, apparently it is because I am nicely spoken - which I am not.  Anyone who really knows me will know I am very much not posh..... but these two jokers do like to constantly go on about how "posh" I am.


...and not posh, just like a specific wine..... who doesn't?


So I opted for a Pear Cider (not posh), the bar wench asked Charlie (Charlie's round) if I wanted a glass to which the reply was "Oh yeah we had better get one because she is Posh"....... great.  But then they gave me a pint glass..... also not posh.


Did not drink cider quick enough before we had to go for meal so ended up necking most of it in one (I used to be able to do this quite well - pint of lager in 7 seconds, this was when I was young mind....) .  Necking of pint was follow by huge belch in the street - "Hello Barnsley" I was beginning to fit in...


Lovely meal, during which Rowan introduced me to the guy in the restaurant as "her posh friend from Harrogate", so for the rest of the evening he kept coming over asking if "the posh lady from Harrogate" was having a nice time........


So at some point during the meal I went for a wee, not that unusual I know.  Came back and Rowan had my phone in her hand and was laughing...... Oh.my.lord...... what has she done?  Truth be told, I knew exactly what she had done..... she had sent Mr Nice a text message....


The message went as follows: "Rowan and Charlie have learnt a new term tonight - husband bulge - they would like to know if you get one when you see me and if you have one now can you send a pic pls xx"


Brilliant.  There was no reply from Mr Nice, claims the battery had gone on his phone and he did not notice as he was tiling the kitchen floor..... I will let you decide if that was really the case.... after all, he knew I was out drinking and we all know mobile phones and drinking should be banned....


"Husband Bulge" - if you have seen Cabin in the Woods you will know this reference.  If not, you will probably work out what it is and to be honest, it is a brilliant term!!


We went back to the pub post dinner and had a jug of cocktail........ each.  I saved on washing up and drank mine out of the jug with a straw (glasses = over rated) - I was really fitting in at this point....


I did have that moment in the night when I woke up and knew I had been drinking cocktails if that resonates with any of you......  spent most of the afternoon lolling on the sofa.....bring on the next one

Mr Nice

Over the last couple of weeks a few of you lovely peeps have enquired as to the current status with Mr Nice.  What can I say, Mr Nice is still as nice as ever.  It is at this point I can say no more.  Whilst I am more than happy to blog about the ridiculous activities which I encounter most days within my own life, I feel I would have questionable ethics to blog about someone in detail who :


a) has not given me permission to
b) has the potential to be something or nothing
c) also reads the blog on occasion ;)


Sorry readers!!


I can say that I have learnt some things about myself along the way and I may blog about these one day x

Wax Lyrical

As most of you will now know, Husband and I split up about six months ago and life has been somewhat interesting ever since.  I have taken the opportunity to undertake the cliche of reinventing myself in some ways - personal trainer, Mr Nice, going out (when child care permits), hamster, house rabbit..... etc


There was another area I was keen to explore, am not absolute on why I had not explored this when Toss Pot was still around.  I guess it is one of those things that never really crosses your mind when you are comfortable...  Also, it could be that with my PT and weight loss (2.5 stone to date), I am more image aware - not in a Barbie sort of sense but more in a "I am not a dowdy fat cow" sort of sense.


So what are we talking about???  The bikini line...


Previously I had always had what I believe is termed the "basic" , what can I say, for some reason, the basic was just not good enough anymore.


Less is more and all that....


So have been a few times now for said beauty treatment - I cannot fathom why this comes under the category of beauty treatment because it certainly does not feel beautiful at the time.....


Any boys reading this, you are in for an eye opener.... you have no idea and I mean NO IDEA what us women go through.....


Firstly, it is advisable to wear very small or no pants when you are going for a wax.  Now, I cannot seem to get past the concept of wearing no pants so end up in very small uncomfortable pants (anything smaller than boxer shorts are small uncomfortable pants for me).  It is of course pointless, small pants or not you end up holding them out of the way of wax anyway...


In some ways it is almost like going for a smear test, in that you have to lie there in your small uncomfortable pants, legs akimbo so that the relevant areas can be accessed - it is not dignified it has to be said.


Wax is put on, wax sets, wax is pulled off...with any hair....it smarts a bit..... some bits more than others...


Muffin does my waxing, Muffin and I get on well and chat a lot when waxing (she does other beauty treatments for me also).  However, close call at last waxing session.  It is probably advisable not to chat to your beautician as she may forget what she is doing and in her excitement you may lose almost all of it....which is not what you wanted....I should say at this point Muffin is ace and marvelous beautician x


One particularly moment at the last session did see me yelp a bit and in a reflex action I pulled one leg up and over next to the other leg.  Which is a problem, when you have a load of wax on which you are waiting to set, because then you get stuck together......


Trying to separate yourself (with the aid of Muffin) when you have become stuck together is not easy and hurts, probably more than the proper waxing itself. Once again dignity is lost.


Similar issues occur when you inadvertently stick your small uncomfortable pants to your nethers and have to try and rip them off....


Straight from waxing went to Rowan's for birthday soiree, arrived at Rowan's and announced that I needed to change my pants (still sporting small uncomfortable pants at this stage)....... possibly not what she was expecting....

G Force

I am beginning to understand that all of the men in my life are just irritating, and yet, still we go back for more.  The 'man' I am referring to in this post is Willow.  Willow is the hamster.  Yes I know..... hear me out....


Willow was actually supposed to be a fish.  I had had a brilliant idea a while back that Little D may benefit from having something that she could look to take some responsibility for and thought when she was starting school that a fish would be a good idea  - I am going to break off here for a bit as I suspect that most other parents have at some point fallen into this trap before.  I have certainly been advised not to go down the pet route and yet somehow I chose to ignore this and thought I knew better.  Any parents out there who don't yet have a pet, heed this warning...... don't.


Little D and I discussed said fish and she was all up for it, so off we went to the pet shop.  First mistake.  Pet shops don't just sell fish do they?  Second mistake was mummy fail, research had not taken place and what I had not realised was that apparently now (although I am sure it was not like this when I was small and we had fish) you have to buy the tank and set it up for two days before you can add fish.  Well this was never going to work was it.  Rather unsurprisingly Little D was not particularly taken with the idea of going to get a fish and coming back with an empty tank.  How do you explain this to a four year old?  How do you explain this to a four year old who is now distracted by the other furry animals, which lets face it, look much cuter than a non existent fish....


So by demonstrating some great parenting discipline we ended up coming back with Willow.  I maintain it could have been worse.


For a number of months Willow was fine, easy to look after, a big hit and Little D adores him.  I now realise he was in fact conning us all this time and he was in the process of implementing his action plan.


The first issue was not entirely Willow's fault but collusion I suspect between him and Annabel (Annabel is the rabbit. A house rabbit.  Yes, we then got a rabbit.  I would like to plead insanity on the account that Toss Pot had left and I had temporarily - debatable - lost my mind).  Annabel knocked Willow's house on the floor and had loosened one of the tunnels so one afternoon Willow made a break for it.  Took me a while to realise he was MIA and I spent most of the day trying to look for him without actually drawing it to the attention of Little D.  Did locate him that evening after much muting of the TV as I knew I could hear him somewhere.  So he was back and safely deposited in his repaired house.


And then came issue number two..... I was suddenly aware that there was a lot of noisy gnawing coming from Willow's direction, far more than normal.  Upon investigation he had eaten through the wall of his house.  He was in effect digging an escape tunnel.  Surely, they are not supposed to be able to eat their way out of their houses?  I had to tape up the hole with some cardboard - I do see the flaw in this plan, in that if he can eat through his house what is cardboard going to do?  but I was short of options.


So 3 days and £25 later, new house purchased.  Different style of house to try and prevent eating through the house.  New house is a type of rota stack where you connect bits with tubes and tunnels.  If you don't have a tube or tunnel you have a round plug that you put in the hole and twist to lock. Simples.  New house big hit and very secure for a couple of weeks.


One night am in bed and wake up at around 4am to some strange noises.  Tried to ignore these as I thought I was probably in dream like state.  No.  Noises did not stop.  OMG there is something in my bedroom.  THERE IS SOMETHING CHEWING AND SCRABBLING IN MY BEDROOM.  What if it is a mouse or a rat (don't ask me where the rat would come from).  I need to turn the light on to find out, but what if it is a rat, what do I then do. Fuck.  OK, be brave.  Turned the light on and guess what, Willow did a bolt across the bedroom.  Really?  How on earth?  


So I lost him, but at least I knew what it was.  I went down to investigate how on earth he has escaped this time.  So you remember those plugs that you put in the hole and twist to lock??  Well, it appears over a number of days he had been working one loose and had somehow twisted it to unlock and then made a break for it.  Not only that, he had navigated himself down the side of the rabbit cage (his house is on top of Annabel's) and then climbed upstairs to wake me up.


Knowing it was Willow did at least mean that I was able to go back to sleep.  It took four days and a war of attrition before I managed to get him back.  I left food and his house out over night, in the morning the food was gone but the house was empty (definitely a piss taker), I had to barricade my bedroom door shut at night to stop him coming in (I know he is a hamster but the door does not close properly so he can get in).  At one point I had visions of him being one of the actual characters from G Force and running around in night vision goggles and a utility belt..


Anyone one night, I heard him (it was about 1 am), I jumped out of bed and managed to corner him in the spare room, I chased about after him in my pants for a bit and then thought better of it.  I shut him in the spare room and retrieved his house and food and left them in the spare room with him.  I was really shocked in the morning to find he had gone to sleep in his house......


....I win...... it is a small victory...... but it is my victory and I will continue to feel smug, until the next time.


Incidently, the round plug things, sellotaped on now.......  lets see what he comes up with next....

Out of the mouth of babes

There have been many things which Little D has said over time that I wished she had not - the classic line to the builder about drawing a picture of "you and me and mummy altogether" being one of them.


Friday was no exception to this.


Took Little D to Toss pot's for the day (she was meeting his new girlfriend!).  I was wearing a vest top and a cardigan (v mum like I think).  Holding Little D in a big hug to say goodbye and before I knew it she had whipped my vest top back to reveal my bra to Toss pot......


...... just so happens it was a leopard print bra (not one that Toss pot had seen before).  Little D then looks at Toss Pot and says "Look at mummy's leopard print.......... mummy has leopard pants on too.......... mummy is wearing her smart pants......"


Oh good,  I will hand it to Toss pot he just looked really embarrassed and opted not to comment.


In my head were the words to the effect of "yes I am and did I ever wear any for you, no I did not......"  I am restrained though, I said nothing....


Then on Saturday we were at my parent's house and my dad comes into the kitchen saying that he hears I have leopard pants..........  Little D had made a point (a day later) of telling him as well.....


Two things I have summed up from this:


1.  I do not want my dad to know what my pants are like - particularly leopard print
2.  I clearly do not wear enough matching underwear for her to think it was such an important point to flag to anyone who will listen....... slightly concerned for when she goes back to school now........

Out on the town....

So big plans this weekend, Mable and I were hitting the town - large!  Probably the first time I have hit the town in this fashion in about six years.......  super excited.


New dress purchased - which in itself was a bit of a thing, I never wear a dress, but given the occasion and the weight loss I thought I would push the boat out!


So needless to say we hit the wine before we went out and then at around 8pm we were off.....


Went to a pretty lively and nice (expensive) bar and thought we would start the evening off with a cocktail.  Where I live is quite affluent an area (I do not fit in!!), so most people are pretty immaculately turned out and look amazing, also, generally very slim.  The good news is that the age range of people being out is quite varied so we didn't feel really "old".


Cocktail drunk, quick nip to the loo (I know but we are both mothers and so need to frequent the loo on a regular basis), walking through the super cool bar to head to the back of the building where the toilets are and Mable just completely stacks it onto both knees...which, if I am honest was quite amusing in itself but the way in which she sprang back onto two feet and carried on walking was amazing and quite possibly one of the funniest things I had ever seen (to that point), almost feline like.  I had to stop walking and talking for laughing so much, even as I write this down I am laughing again at the image and I simple cannot do it justice on the blog.


So we eventually make it to the loo (once I have pulled myself together) and, because I was wearing a dress I was paranoid about coming out of the loo and it being caught up in my tights or something.  I come out of the loo and as we are walking back up the stairs to the bar I say to Mable "is my dress tucked in my pants", to which she starts laughing and replied "No, but you have a load of bog roll stuck to your shoe" (which I did).  FFS.  This was probably a good early indication that we should not have been out.


Next bar, couple of vodkas, bit of chit chatting and some dancing, lovely time.  Back into the first bar, more vodkas, more chit chatting and bit of dancing.... all lovely.


Decided we needed to move on and so went for the dodgy nightclub, which, I have to say was not as dodgy as I had first feared and we had a really great time - I will come back to that in a moment.


To get to said nightclub we had to trot down a hill, about five minutes - just a case of follow the masses.  So we headed off that way just before 11.  On our way out Mable decided to tell some bloke that he had bog roll stuck to his foot (which he did), good of her really....


And then she declares she needs another wee, which is tough, she will just have to wait until we get to dodgy nightclub, so off we trot laughing loudly about I have no idea what....  ( I feel people may have been looking thinking oh lord the "mothers" are out, how they would know we were mothers I have no idea).  So we are talking away and and come to a small side road which we need to cross, I am walking across and suddenly become aware that Mable is not next to me, I turn round and she has walked into a stationary taxi...... this was not even a normal taxi it was a mini bus taxi and she has walked straight into it.  Apparently she thought it was going to move.......  this clearly set me off again....I had to go back and retrieve her and just keep walking.


Walking down the hill I then tell Mable a story I had heard in the week about someone we know who had been to a music concert and their friend had been hit in the head with some sort of a missile (now, I know what you are all thinking, usually these missiles are of a liquid capacity, but no..) a 2lb lump of Edam.  Laughing again and Mable starts roaring with laughing which meant we were doubled over laughing in the street and she needed a wee (still).... we must have looked so classy.  I was doing my usual laughing/crying thing that I do.  We knew we had to regain composure in order to gain access to dodgy nightclub so had to stop and calm down a bit....


Composure regained and re took the plunge, into the nightclub we went.  We drank and we danced and it was brilliant.  Chatting to a few people and just having a laugh.


Mable decides to go off to the bar, which based on previous experiences can take about four days to return from so she (in her what only can be described as pretty shitfaced state) says to me she is off to the bar and for me to stay put, there was a girl who Mable had been dancing with when I had done my last bar trip so Mable says "you will be ok, this is Maria, she is a lesbian, she will look after you" and then before I know it she has disappeared!!  Maria was really nice (no idea if she is actually a lesbian or not) but lovely, did offer to give us a lift home as she was staying until the end, however we bailed just after 2am and so opted for the taxi.


This morning was tough, Mable slept downstairs, she came upstairs at lunch time and climbed into my bed, we decided to do the only thing we could at a time like that and ordered a Dominos, I went to open the door to the delivery driver in my pyjamas and then we sat and ate it in my bed whilst watching last night's Britain's Got Talent.... feeling much better now but expecting another lull shortly....

Bridget Jones moment

There are many things which happen in life, which, at the time you wish they had not.  Some of these moments are, at the time, abhorrent, the sort where you just want the world to stop for a few seconds.......


Saturday was a beautiful example of one of these incidents.......


.....now, we will not go into the whys or the wherefores but lets just start with condoms in my handbag.  As most of you should know they all come linked together in a box and so there were two adjoined in my bag, I say two, it was actually one and an empty packet (it's ok, my mum knows about this, thought it best to tell her before I wrote it down...), again, we are not dispensing with the whys and the wherefores.....


I had "safely" deposited them in one of those neat little pockets in the inside of my bag, so there were not loose and would not just roam around in the sac magique.


And then I forgot about them...


Saturday, Little D and I went to Starbucks after doing some shopping in town, we sat down, like proper grown ups and then my phone beeped in my bag.  How wonderful I thought, so I reached into my bag to extract my phone from the phone pocket.......only, I hadn't put my phone in the phone pocket had I?  No. I had put it in the other pocket, the one with the said articles in it.....


So as I enthusiastically reached for my phone trying to look cool and popular (note to self, do not do this again), I whipped my phone out at great speed.  Out it came and out with it came the condoms.  Which was bad enough in itself but, given my over enthusiasm they flew threw the air across Starbucks and landed about 6 feet away from my table........ OH. MY. GOD....


It was at precisely this point I wanted the world to stop.


What to do.... no-one equips you to deal with these situations do they?  What the hell do I do?


In a split second various things ran through my head - I could just leave them, pretend they were not mine, which would work except a number of people had seen this incident and were currently starring open mouthed  (apart from the lady on the table next to me who had looked at the condoms on the floor, looked at me and then burst out laughing).  Plus some small child might pick them up....


So in the end, I decided I had no option, I just stood up, walked over to the offending items (I am sure it looked worse because one was an empty packet......), picked them up and returned to my table.


EVERYONE just looking at me......


Get back to the table Little D says "Mummy what are those?"......  I used the typical parent distraction method to get her to look out the window, thereby avoiding having to answer the question.


At this point, most normal people would have probably left, but no, I stayed. I smiled at the laughing lady next to me (who at this point was texting on her phone, probably to all her friends about what just happened) and sat and drank my coffee......


There is a lesson to this story....

Personal goal or utter madness?

Most of you who read this will already know that in some sort of fit of madness, a few weeks ago I entered myself into the Race for Life this year.  "Well Done" I hear (some of) you cry, and I thank you.  It does not stop there however, I could have entered to do the 5km - just over three miles - which would have been the sensible option given I am not really a runner, but no, no, why would I do that?  Instead, I have opted for the 10km - just over six miles, six miles...... of running........


I am a bit like a pendulum when I think about what lies ahead, swinging from thinking this is a great thing and how proud I am of myself to thinking it is just simply ridiculous and that I will never do it, be lucky to make it half way round.


Six months ago I would have never thought I would be doing something like this, the only time I would have used running in a sentence would be when it was followed by "a bath".


When I started seeing the PT, about four months ago, I was extremely categorical that I would not run. Not even a little bit. Not ever. And bless him, he humoured me, said it was OK and not an issue and then, after less than two months, I found myself on a treadmill. He lies.  I learnt this quite early on. He lies a lot.  For the right reasons yes, but he still lies.


And you know what, I quite like it.  Don't get me wrong, it is hard going, we do interval running and virtual each visit he increases my "quick" interval.... we are at 13kmh an hour now, which for me is just quite amazing. But I am determined, I will do this, I need to do this.


My main issue at the moment is the endurance aspect of it, I cannot run 6 miles at the moment, I would be lucky if I could run 3, so we have some work to do.  I should add that the aim is not to run the 6 miles at 13kmh - that would just be silly!  I am looking to try and break the hour though..... I am not promising that....


I do feel that having a small posse at the finishing line, brandishing glasses of wine at me may help....


I am under no illusion that there will be tears on the lead up to the run....... just humour me if you happen to be around me at that time...


In the meantime, the mission is on to get as much sponsorship as I can for Cancer Research.  I will be running for some who are no longer with us and some who are continuing the fight. x

"bit of a week"

Aside from the school and bell v face incident, this week has been a bit emotional, some good, some bad, some, just well emotional really (and no, it is not bear week)....


I will start with the most recent issue...... Hamster is MIA.  Little D is not aware of this as of yet, I have spent a lot of this afternoon on my knees in the kitchen (not as good as it sounds!) looking for the offending article but still no joy.  Spotted its escape when Toss Pot and I were talking in the kitchen, noticed one of the plastic tubes on the cage had come out, made  a strange noise and ran over to the cage..... no Hamster...... OH.


Was definitely in there this morning but is now not.  Could be anywhere.  What if the rabbit has eaten it?  I do not want to have this conversation with Little D.....  so, the Hamster SOS continues.......


Monday was my wedding anniversary.... 7 years, I would say would have been my wedding anniversary but as we are still technically married, I suppose it still is.... I did mark the occasion by sending Toss Pot a text message wishing him a Happy Anniversary, strangely, heard nothing back......  I mean it is ok and it is.  We just have a series of "firsts" to get through and I guess this was one of them.  I think it may have been more difficult than Christmas but it passed relatively uneventful so we can now cross that one off the list.


I had to go away for work this week as well which meant I did not see Little D for 4 days, which is the longest time ever I have not seen her for.  Again, it was necessary and we all survived but it added to an already stretching week.


There was also a waxing incident this week which I am debating about whether to blog about (it would be hilarious) or not, possibly, some of you will not want to know about this and so I will continue to ponder......

Saved by the bell??

Hi - sorry, it has been a while, bit of a week this week - we will come onto that in a moment.  Fortunately my "bit of a week" s keep the blog moving!


So Little D has had an incident..... phone call from school on Monday - you may remember last time school phoned she had cut a huge chunk of her hair off with a pair of scissors, so I could not wait to hear what it was this time!


Rang and spoke to the office, they explained that while they were out to play and one of the teaching assistants was ringing the bell to get them all back inside, Little D, somehow, ran full pelt into the bell as it was being rung and collided with the bell using her face......  don't even ask me how this is possible, there are naturally a few questions which sprang to mind (after I had ascertained that she was OK):


- how on earth did she manage to do this and not see the bell, after all, it makes quite a significant noise.  There can surely be no claims of not knowing it was there (which is my usual defence for any trips or falls....)


- what was the teaching assistant doing?  did she not see Little D come charging towards her?  Is this a common incident?


Office advised that she was fine but had a "bit of a line" on her face from the bell.  OK good.  They ring because they don't see us at the end of the day as she goes to Kid's Club for post school childcare.  The school therefore do not have the opportunity to have their explanations ready as we go and pick her up.


Little D was with Toss Pot that night so I emailed him to let him know what to expect.


Later that night he sent me a photo of Little D's face.  Oh. Dear.


"bit of a line"


She had a huge gash running from 2mm under her lower eye lid down the side of her face and cheekbone, lots of swelling and when the bruising came out she had a black eye and cheekbone....... "bit of a line".  She has actually been very lucky, any higher and she could have been blinded....


....she is so her mother's daughter though, I mean how anyone can do that to themselves I do not know, but then I think about what I was/am like....


The best example of this is when I was about 2.5 - 3 years.  I somehow managed to get myself a glass and as I walked out the back door I tripped over the step and glassed myself in the forehead........ trip to casualty.....


A few weeks later I was on top of a climbing frame in a friend's garden - those of you off of the 80's might remember the sort, metal frame, quite tall and narrow, flat on the top - I was up there with a friend and my big brother and all of the sudden I was not up there anymore, I was on the floor, on my head, on a concrete slab.  There is still to this day some debate as to whether I fell or was pushed, other witnesses were interrogated (4 year old brother) but no serious conclusions were drawn.  So back to casualty we went for them to sew the back of my head up this time.


In light of the fact that I was a small child with two head injuries in very quick succession, Social Services were called in (my poor parents) and had to do a home visit.  The day Social Services came round, I fell backwards through the greenhouse.  Social Services left, satisfied there were no issues with my parents. Just me.


Yep, she is definitely her mother's daughter....

Brush Off

Sent following Text Message to Bert tonight:


Hi Bert, thanks for your help with the windows yesterday. I appreciate your help but think it would be best if, now that the job has almost finished, you did not come round anymore. I have a lot of stuff to work through and things to be getting on with. if I do need any work doing on the house I will call you for a quote.




Lets see how this works....

Thick skinned

I don't even know how to start this post, I should probably have some witty remark or amusing anecdote, but I really cannot even think of anything.  I am still in recovery from what just happened...... 


...So true to his word Bert came round, however, I am slightly irritated, I was in all day and he came round when he knew I would have collected Little D from school.  She really likes him (she clearly has questionable taste).  He knows this.  So he arrives.  She knows it is him before I even open the door.  I clearly cannot now not open the door.  She runs at him and gives him a hug.  Oh Jesus.


Comes in with some sort of electric current tool just to check the power supply to the living room light before he takes it away to be fixed (power supply is fine by the way, and yet the light is still there.....).  Made him cup of tea, felt I should, he had come to do the light and while he was here I got him to sort the windows (I know, slight abuse of power there on my part) - Little D was caught this morning half hanging out of my bedroom window  [suicide windows] so I needed to get them locked on the hinges so they only opened so far, when it comes to self preservation for me or Little D not falling out the window, she comes first.


And then the comments just started, I can't even be doing with telling the entire story - I will just provide the edited highlights....


Making Tea:


Could not recall if Bert had sugar in his tea or not so obviously asked.  Bert replies (with his hand on my shoulder) - "There are so many men in your house you cannot remember which is which can you?"


No Bert, it is just every time you have been I try and erase it from my memory....


Whilst doing the windows:


Bert: "Of course I will do all these things for you as I now have competition"
Me: "I was not aware of any competition....."


Bert: "I realise I need to up my game now an architect is involved" (Mr Nice is a chartered surveyor)
Me: "Not aware of any game..."


Bert: "of course you are the only woman in my life, the other women who are clients are all 65 +"


I pointed out that I am not actually client


Little D: "Why do you come here?" (love this child)


Bert: "Because we were working next door and mummy let us use the drive and now I just keep turning up like a bad penny"


You said it


Whilst just being here:


He points out he knows what wine I drink because he sees it in my recycling bin......... he looks in my recycling bin?????


Says I can just call on him as he is useful and has just proved this by the windows...... for the love of god


Says he will bring some things for Little D, I said no need to do that, he says oh I know no need but want to.


Says he will come back on Saturday morning and help strip the wall paper in the spare room (can see half of the wallpaper is off wall when he fixed window), I said no need, I am on it, he says he can do it in half a day.  I am like NO.


Now I have lost the plot and he says he is coming back on Saturday to do something but I am not even sure what, maybe he is stripping the wallpaper or maybe it is something else??  who knows.


All the while I am texting Mr Nice telling him who is here, he thinks it is hilarious, said it sounds like I have a great guy there, I responded with" funny how I don't see it like that"


He was more concerned that I had not given Bert the "good" coffee - which of course I had not...


It appears to have gone from almost brilliant - because I thought he had gone - to even worse than before.  It seems mentioning Mr Nice as a deterrent has had the exact opposite effect and made it even worse, he is so determined and thick skinned...any serious offers of help now taken....

Epic Fail

Someone asked me in the pub on Friday how the Bert situation was going.  I was immensely smug as I said that I thought he had gone, no contact for over a week and a half.  Message has been received and understood.  The friend in the pub sniggered and suggested that this was not likely to be the case and that as Bert is a persistent bugger, he will be back.....  I practically laughed in his face, my confidence that after five weeks of failing, I had finally managed to resolve the situation.  


I would like to extend a massive apology to this friend, after, it would seem, laughing in their face was premature and, they were indeed right after all......


What makes me laugh particularly about this is that earlier on I even predicted my own downfall, I knew this would happen but yet was so ultra confident that he had gone.


So imagine my dismay (I think an "F" word may have featured) when, during Saturday afternoon, I was on the telephone to my mum, half watching out the living room window as Mr Nice was coming to collect me for date number 2.  All of a sudden: 


Me:   "Oh my god, I just cannot believe it"
Mum:  "What?"
Me:  "Guess who has just turned up?"
Mum: "Oh..... it's not Mr Nice is it?"
Me: "No"
Mum: "Bert? - laughs a lot"
Me: "OK I have to go and deal with this, Mr Nice due here in 10 minutes...."


Bert had pulled up outside of the house and then, brazen as anything had let himself into the back garden to apparently "check the building"... yeah whatever...


And then he knocked on the door.  Now, I was acutely aware of two things:


1.  Mr Nice was arriving imminently and I did not want their paths to cross.  Mr Nice is aware (and very amused) of the Bert situation, but still.....


2.  Because of said meet with Mr Nice I had made quite a bit of an effort and did not want Bert to get the wrong idea by this...


Bert started the conversation by asking what I had been up to, I responded with a comment along the lines of  'have been quite busy', to which Bert said : "I know you have because when I have been by you have not been here....."  OK........


Bert asked what specifically I had been doing.  I said "working, time with Little D oh and I had a date last weekend (go me) and in fact, he will be here in a few minutes"


Bert; looked quite shocked by this (not sure if I should be insulted, does he not think I am capable of getting a date or is this because he thinks we are having a baby [see previous blogs])


Bert kind of glossed over it for a moment, decided to tell me how busy he had been, how his daughter was in trouble as she had been out until 4am (she is 18) and how one of her friends had asked Bert out as he 'looks so young and is so cool'....uh huh..... Bert reassures me he is not interested in 20 year old girl.  And I care why?


Bert then asks me about Mr Nice, gave a small outline and not much else.


Bert then asks about Mable and what she was up to the other week [see previous blogs], I said nothing and that Mable was just saying what she thought.  Bert said that Mable had asked if he was fishing and if he had other house wives (my recollection of this is slightly different, but hey), he again reassured me that he had told Mable that he had no interest in any other women..... ah.....


Bert then went on to say "tell Mable that you have told me you have a date and that I am insanely jealous" - I think this is his way of telling me he is jealous - well, you missed your boat really didn't you because you never asked me out, not that I would have said yes, but then you know this....


So I just said "OK I will let her know"


He eventually left and literally as he pulled off Mr Nice pulled up.


God knows what the neighbours will think, they are all lovely but like a bit of curtain twitching, they will be aware of Bert rocking up a number of times and today, it almost looked like a revolving door effect, one out one in.... for my life


Oh and Bert wants to come back on Tuesday to fix my light, I might tell him Mr Nice and I are an item (we are not, but he will not know that)


I may just keep the curtains closed....


Must remind myself never to be smug cow again....

Dating

At what point is it acceptable to throw your hat into the dating arena after your marriage has ended?  Is there some sort of unwritten rule stating how long you are supposed to wait or can you just dive right in (so to speak)?


I am not sure that I have ever actually "dated" before and if I have, I clearly don't remember, so all in all it is a case of starting again or, maybe just starting...


The whole way in which people date has also changed, very much online now.  Which is quite exciting in some respects as you can "browse" a bit like window shopping, without actually having to talk to anyone.  There has in the past been a stigma around internet dating - the idea of arranging to meet someone you don't know and them turning out to be some sort of psychopath....


The concept has redeemed itself over more recent years and has become a bit of a cult and I can see why.  I maintain that going out and meeting someone in a bar offers just as much chance of them being a psychopath than someone online, only differences being that they are more likely to be a drunk psychopath.... which is clearly much better.  The thing to watch for on internet dating is of course that people lie about how they look or post a deceiving photograph... at least if you meet someone in a bar, beer goggles or not, you generally have some idea what they look like!!


I understand that there are some "dating" websites which you can join that specialise in a quick leg over...... I have not joined one of those (hi mum).


So I have joined a "normal" one - it was sort of done as a drunk joke one night - with a real shell of a profile.  I receive multiple chat requests and views (it tells you when someone has viewed your profile) since setting up my "profile", that is not meant to sound arrogant and, I am pretty certain that on the whole it is not something to be proud of.


I tend not to speak to people online, mainly because they appear to be idiots (the people who want to talk to me, which probably says something) or they are illiterate and I don't mean they have the odd typo I mean they just cannot write or spell or even construct a sentence and, as awful as it sounds, I cannot tolerate this on any level.


I have been window shopping over the last week or so and to be honest, the mentality of some men never ceases to amaze me.


Can someone explain to me what sort of reasonable person you expect to meet online when you post a picture of either:


- just yourself looking like a complete tool - absolutely terrible photograph;


- you taking a photo of yourself in the mirror with your phone, which we can then all see, it worries me that these people a. have no other photos of themselves and b. don't have any friends who are prepared to take a photo for them;


- a photo of you (as a guy) all over another girl......


- a photo of you and (your) very expensive car, which to me says "I have no personality but I have a Ferrari" if, indeed it is even yours


Perhaps I am being a bit disingenuous, they could all be really lovely people........


So I went on a date with a potential psychopath, for some reason I decided to chat to him online and he is nice. 


Personally, I felt this was a massive achievement and was quite proud for putting myself out there.  We met safely in daylight in town on a busy day (better than drunk in a dark nightclub).  I had the (what I can only presume are) usual pre-date nerves, will I recognise him? will he recognise me?  will he actually turn up?  does it matter if he doesn't?


He did turn up (in fact he was waiting for me) and we did recognise each other. 


There was no physical contact - all very honourable - but a hilarious moment as we went to say goodbye to each other, where we clearly had no idea what to do next, there was a sort of awkward pause - no-one tells you how to handle these moments.  In the end we settled on some small talk, thanks, would like to do it again, safe trip home (I said this, who says such stupid things?) and then kind of left.


We had a nice date and a nice walk and he is nice.  Nice is a theme here.