tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56278002011-04-22T03:27:37.422+02:00Two Dumb BlondesA journal about life in the South of France with an adolescent six year old and a psycho ex husbandmusernoreply@blogger.comBlogger2661100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1140604948001142512006-02-22T11:25:00.000+01:002006-02-22T11:42:28.013+01:00I wasn't kidnapped by Blue Anorak man (so called because he toldme all about his anorak - where he bought it, how much it cost, how hard it could rain until he got damp, how it protected you from gales - TWICE.After the date, I told him in no uncertain terms that I didn't want to have a relationship with him, didn't want to shag him and never would. He asked to be friends. I said OK. One lunch musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1137257883124819722006-01-14T17:56:00.000+01:002006-01-14T17:58:03.136+01:00I had a date on Thursday.He looked older than my dad. How can a fourty six year old look over sixty five?So, if I want someone who looks fourty I should perhaps find a twenty year old?And is it fourty or forty? Neither looks right.musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1136818811113872242006-01-09T15:54:00.000+01:002006-01-09T16:00:11.116+01:00I love this place.About -oh- six months ago? I ordered some tiles for my fireplace, two different colours.'You're not in a hurry?' they asked me. 'It will take at least six weeks to order the ones we haven't got in stock.'A couple of months later, I pop by to the shop to be told that they forgot to order them. No worries - I'm not in a hurry. I wait a while longer, drop by again and they have musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1136818418217078682006-01-09T15:49:00.000+01:002006-01-09T15:53:38.226+01:00I can't even remember why, I think it was probably about watching too much telly, but I went into my 'It's up to you, but if you don't do well at school you'll end up in a crap job cleaning other peoples' toilets and you'll never be able to afford to go on holiday, but it's up to you if you want to do nothing with your life....' tirade.Sproglet waits for me to finish, then comes up and gives me amusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1136410269554001252006-01-04T22:23:00.000+01:002006-01-04T22:31:09.596+01:00Happy New Year!I don't usually celebrate New Year, but I have a good feeling about 2006. I feel like I've got my old self back, have recognised what I need to change and life begins here!It seems to have taken a long time to get myself to this stage. Not sure it's too healthy to take four years to get over a divorce - but it's got to be better then ignoring why it all happened and rushing into musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1135463839838582172005-12-24T23:29:00.000+01:002005-12-24T23:37:19.853+01:00Best birthday presents - a heffalump from Sproglet (or Hellafump as he calls it), a tin of Greek olive oil, a soft, long, cream coloured, woollen scarf....Worst - some kind of stomach virus. I haven't been able to eat for four days. But I just had a couple of gin and tonics at a friend's place and it seems to be staying down.I decided to spend Christmas on my own. Sproglet is with his dad and musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1134302477612633162005-12-11T12:00:00.000+01:002005-12-11T13:01:19.076+01:00I suppose if life wasn't full of ups and downs we would only get bored. To be honest, I'd rather suffer the downs so that I can experience the 'up' times - life would be flat if everything chugged along the same every day.It always amazes me how quickly things can change. Wednesday I had a childish strop because I had trouble putting the Christmas tree up. I had such a pity party! 'Why am I alonemusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1133370465320950072005-11-30T17:57:00.000+01:002005-11-30T18:07:45.360+01:00I went out for dinner with a couple of friends yesterday and had a good old whinge about a) not being invited out to dinner as we are not in a couple, and b) never being introduced to any men by mutual friends.One friend is married so doesn't want to be set up with anyone, but she has noticed that when her husband is away she doesn't get invited anywhere. People actually say to her 'Let us know musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1132845389852893622005-11-24T16:11:00.000+01:002005-11-24T16:16:29.870+01:00I am an even sadder case - yes, I have to admit it. I actually voted for Andy. I think this is the first time ever I have rang to vote on one of those sort of shows - well, to any kind of show actually.It was wonderful - a kind of guilty pleasure, like that third glass of wine, heehee.I have decided to not worry about how much cheese/wine/moules frites I consume. I know that I am alot healthier musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1132422686946238442005-11-19T18:45:00.000+01:002005-11-19T18:51:26.956+01:00Well my weekend at home, tidying the house and doing paperwork, has turned into Moules Frites evening last night, sleeping until 11am today, several hours in a café with friend deciding that couples shouldn't be able to moan about anything, EVER, because they have each other and a Sunday lunch tomorrow at mine which will quite easily turn into an all afternooner (most probably, not 'quite easily'musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1132240265576250072005-11-17T16:02:00.000+01:002005-11-17T16:11:05.590+01:00It is a sad day.My doctor told me to watch my cholesterol levels. I think she actually made a mistake with my age, because I was within the normal range for my age group but a bit high for the under 30's (you know you're getting old when you start being in the 'older' range for surveys etc).Yet she insisted on lecturing me on not eating too much cheese (I've cut out practically all dairy), musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1132181810548563822005-11-16T23:30:00.000+01:002005-11-16T23:56:50.590+01:00I think I like living in France. Back from the UK, I am struck by the difference in lifestyle that I enjoy here.Norwich is full of Chavs. Even members of my family could easily use this title. When my niece asked if I liked her glittery, very mini, big belted denim skirt I could only say 'Won't you be cold?' like the old fuddy duddy I am.And while I enjoy shopping once or twice a year, it seems musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1131541480652498452005-11-09T13:48:00.000+01:002005-11-09T14:04:40.673+01:00Au revoirIt's a hurtful thing when someone turns down an offer of friendship. With sexual partners you can understand - some people are into monogamy. But with friends I find it hard to understand why somebody wouldn't want another one to add to the gang.In the last couple of months I've had a long term friend not want to know me anymore because after two years of listening to her problems, I musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1131219539289447732005-11-05T20:35:00.000+01:002005-11-05T20:38:59.306+01:00Well helloooooo!I have been busy, so busy - I've had people staying, people going, Halloween parties, lunches out, Blues concerts....I have deliberately planned nothing this weekend to recuperate before I go to the UK next week. My plan was to do T'ai Chi and meditate while de-toxing, but so far I have been christmas shopping, danced the salsa and drank five glasses of wine.Oh well. Health kick musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1129300874843632802005-10-14T16:26:00.000+02:002005-10-14T16:41:14.880+02:00Who wants to buy me a computer?My millionaire client has promised me a 'bonus' - now if only I didn't have thousands of euros of taxes to pay I could treat myself. I think I will go and live in a tax haven - although I'm not sure my town house would fetch enough to buy a property on some tax free, white sand beach somewhere.I suppose I'll have to just find a rich husband. Other people manage it. musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1127845766673335892005-09-27T20:20:00.000+02:002005-09-27T20:29:26.676+02:00Testing, for the squillionth time.So much has been happening - my mother had cancer, a friend sent me nasty messages, someone graffitti'd outside my house and Sproglet got into trouble at school.There have also been nice times - a holiday in Spain with my parents, laughs with friends, excellent meals...And just when you have things to talk about, blogger won't let you sign in!musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1124721642043730172005-08-22T16:32:00.000+02:002005-08-22T16:40:42.050+02:00Well incase anyone still pops in here, I am still alive.Although with the amount of damage I have done to my liver with all the food and copious amounts of wine I have been imbibing it's a wonder I'm still here.Blogger hasn't let me log in for a month, each time I get a message about enabling cookies. Well I have, four times now, so why won't you let me log in??? What have you got against my homemusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1122505000926280922005-07-28T00:47:00.000+02:002005-07-28T00:56:40.933+02:00Yay!I haven't been able to log onto blogger since my computer went all funny.So, what's been happening?Well, I have to say that the school holidays are fab. Getting up at 9am every day is even fabber.The problem is, with all the late nights and going out that sproglet's body clock is completely buggered. He actually asked me yesterday (in a world weary, knackered voice) 'why are we invited to musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1121115450238342792005-07-11T22:46:00.000+02:002005-07-11T22:57:30.246+02:00Gah. I've got indigestion. I don't even want to think about everything I ate and drank this weekend.We had Sproglet's end of term party on Friday - I dragged him away at eleven pm.The next day we drove up to Brive, for a friend's birthday dinner - sproglet played with her five year old son and we sat up and talked until 4am.I had to get up early the next day to drive back for another birthday, a musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1120765653149871722005-07-07T21:37:00.000+02:002005-07-07T21:47:33.156+02:00I am very, very lucky.I managed to contact all of my friends in London this afternoon. The chances of somebody I know being hurt in the explosions was small but you can't help worrying, can you?I don't know whether to shield sproglet from the telly. He seems a bit young to know how evil people can be. He also has a fear of death, which started when he listened to the song American Pie. Sproglet musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1120600712702464012005-07-05T23:52:00.000+02:002005-07-05T23:58:32.706+02:00I'm in shock. Sproglet's dad just sent me 50 euros through the post, wrapped in brown paper.The first time he has ever given me money for his son without being told to do so by the Police.So we're going for a slap up breakfast tomorrow and then I'll keep the rest towards a camping trip over the school holidays.I am, childishly, rather tempted to spend it on booze as this is the reason I have not musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1120482313677014722005-07-04T14:27:00.000+02:002005-07-04T15:07:52.983+02:00Well it wasn't gastroenteritis, it was bloody meningitis - well there isn't actually blood involved with meningitis, just blinding headaches, vomiting, stiff neck etc. Luckily it was viral (I didn't even know there were two kinds of meningitis), not bacterial.Sproglet recovered quicker than I did, I still feel exhausted from all the worry - although I must admit the aching legs are probably more musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1118694821722460202005-06-13T22:22:00.000+02:002005-06-13T22:33:41.730+02:00Poor sproglet had an accident at school and we ended up in Casualty on Friday afternoon.He fell and cut his face, ending up with two stitches. He was such a brave boy, hardly crying and insisting on looking in the mirror straight afterwards (at which point he cried 'It's rubbish having stitches! I'm ugly!') and asking the doctor lots of questions.He seemed to spring back to his usual talkative, musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1118258714297752512005-06-08T21:17:00.000+02:002005-06-08T21:25:14.303+02:00I am trying to sell some stuff at a car boot sale on Sunday.Problem is, I'm not sure what I am going to sell. I don't know who is worse, me or sproglet. I sent sproglet to the attic earlier today to see if he could find some old toys to sell.Result : he rediscovered a whole set of toys that he forgot he had which are now cluttering up my living room and his bedroom. I thought we would have quite musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1117487789313510712005-05-30T23:02:00.000+02:002005-05-30T23:16:29.320+02:00I can understandI can understand why peple are cat or dog people. A combination of nature and nurture - if your parents always had labradors that slept on your bed, or had cats that weren't allowed inside, it must make a difference to how you view domestic pets or animals in general.So why do I have a thing about hedgehogs?I never read Beatrix Potter. So what explains my school project on hedgehogs - twenty two musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1116538665674741132005-05-19T23:24:00.000+02:002005-05-19T23:37:45.680+02:00I feel like posting a 'feeling sorry for myself' essay, but as I am a nice person I won't subject you to it.I will just say, that when your car breaks down and you have to camp in a field so that you are near enough to get your son to school, choose a week where the temperatures are NOT close to freezing despite it being nearly the end of May.Oh and if I tell you that I am feeling very low and musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1115927646028359692005-05-12T21:32:00.000+02:002005-05-12T21:54:06.266+02:00Good news this week after last week's disappointment, when a couple of gay friends told me Sproglet was definitely heterosexual.We went to a shop and he chose a doll. A ragdoll with long, blonde hair.So there. There is hope for a grandchildren free old age yet.musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1114711252597842082005-04-28T19:38:00.000+02:002005-04-28T20:00:52.596+02:00People around here don't go out in the winter, so I am gradually witnessing the rebirth of my street.With my windows open, I can hear the thud, thud of teenagers' car stereos as they hurtle past the end of my road. The boy from the upstairs flat opposite has got a new bike, so every five minutes I am looking ouside to make sure he is ok after the latest sound of mangled wheels and legs. Yesterdaymusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1113567154771265912005-04-15T13:43:00.000+02:002005-04-15T14:12:34.773+02:00When I was back in England a few weeks back, my friend M asked after my friend P's son, saying 'How is the Child Of Satan?'Now, in all fairness, COS has been absolutely fine over the last few months. I have looked after him at my house and he was as good as gold. Suddenly, however, COS has begun his diabolical tricks again and has decided to start with my house.Now I have to bear in mind that musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1113163181141727622005-04-10T21:20:00.000+02:002005-04-10T21:59:41.143+02:00Well I talked it up.Sproglet had the biggest bollocking of his life on Friday morning. I'll spare you the details but, suffice to say, he has to obey my every whim for the next fortnight.Pity he's too young to make me a cup of tea in bed.musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1112888732214852762005-04-07T17:38:00.000+02:002005-04-07T17:45:32.216+02:00I have started cooking with sproglet (making dinner together, not using parts of him to make stews) to get him interested in a greater variety of food and to wean him off tinned ravioli. Sproglet is a real carnivore so I thought the addition of fresh vegetables to his diet might cause havoc.Day one we made 'Red Lentil Spaghetti''How many points out of ten?' I asked sproglet.'Twelve'.Day two we musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1112208706206431892005-03-30T20:43:00.000+02:002005-03-30T20:55:06.460+02:00The second day I was in England I decided I was going to move back.The mixture of people my own age, the access to Boots and WH Smith, the wonderful variety of crisp flavours and the biting, wonderful sense of humour all made me lose my mind for awhile there.Then my friend M pointed out that we were in a theme pub in the centre of Reading drinking an eleven quid bottle of crap wine, surrounded bymusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1111523598115717242005-03-22T21:26:00.000+01:002005-03-22T21:33:18.116+01:00Today sproglet said 'mummy, you're my number one' - this came from listening to a Lou Bega song in the car.So I said 'Do you know what a number two means? It means when you do a poo'.Sproglet just went up to the loo. He asked 'What's a number three? It should be doing a wee, because it rhymes with 'three'.'A few minutes later he came back downstairs and said 'I know, number four should be when musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1111233779190459092005-03-19T12:54:00.000+01:002005-03-19T13:02:59.190+01:00What is happening on here? Either I am going mad or my posts keep getting lost.Sproglet was in fine fettle before he went off this weekend to see his dad.'Yippee!' he shouted, 'I am soooooo happy because I am wearing my shorts for the first time!'What a difference the sun makes! Everyone is instantly better, like an instant 'just add sun' pot noodle.Sproglet told me 'mummy, my more best thing is musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1111153441477244712005-03-18T14:22:00.000+01:002005-03-18T14:44:01.476+01:00What a difference the sun makes!Sproglet was allowed to put on his football kit for the first time yesterday, to go to the local park.'Yippee!' he shouted. 'I am soooooooo happy because I'm wearing shorts!'I was wearing a skirt for the first time this year and yes, it made me feel bloody great. It's been a long old winter.When I had given sproglet his good night kiss, he said 'Mummy, my more bestmusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1110749255688041502005-03-13T22:24:00.000+01:002005-03-13T22:27:35.690+01:00Hey! What happened to my last post? Or am I just halucinating again?I went for a 34 km bike ride today, I think all the energy from my brain cells had to be used to get up those last couple of hills. Anyway I am feeling very strange.Sproglet has been writing his Christmas list and getting very excited about it. Yes, I have told him it's nine months away...musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1109619433940559922005-02-28T20:34:00.000+01:002005-02-28T20:37:13.943+01:00I did a very blonde thing this morning.Not only did I give myself a black eye with the lever of the living room shutter, I still haven't worked out how the lever got UNDERNEATH my glasses, cutting me under the eye and bruising my upper lid.I have spent the day half blind.Seeing only half of what goes on around me is quite good actually.musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1109247506683516102005-02-24T13:12:00.000+01:002005-02-24T13:18:26.683+01:00I had a brilliant time in the UK. No family arguments, just alot of bitching behind the scenes, sproglet was adorable, I partied, shopped, museumed it and left just before the snow blizzards hit Norfolk.A friend I hadn't seen for seven years trained it from London for the afternoon to see me, it was bloody great to catch up with her.BUT, I will never, ever get used to paying £2.50 for a glass of musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1108410686663444522005-02-14T20:46:00.000+01:002005-02-14T20:51:26.663+01:00I have to report a sad moment in any mother's life. A moment of realisation, that your little child is growing up, doesn't need you so much anymore.Today, sproglet was watching television when I heard him say 'she's beautiful, mummy'. Sproglet doesn't like girls. He thinks they're stupid.I turned around to see....Kylie Minogue. Kylie, bloody Minogue. Life in this household will never be the musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1107716946295815222005-02-06T19:52:00.000+01:002005-02-06T20:09:06.296+01:00I am starting to think that I have an arse that isn't adapted to bicycle saddles.
Ouch.
After all that lovely food I ate on Friday, I haven't felt like eating much. Sausage and mash doesn't really cut it after eating such sumptuous food. Tonight I have made Celeriac soup with red chilli pesto. Yum.
I am drinking a very nice Cotes de Languedoc, from the Domaine de Joÿ - what a wonderful name! I musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1107636185895369052005-02-05T21:40:00.000+01:002005-02-05T21:43:05.896+01:00Last night I ate at the only restaurant in the area with a Michelin star. This is what I had:
Mise en bouche: mushroom velouté with chestnuts and sweetbreads.
Hors D'oeuvre: Foie gras with cranberrie sauce, onion marmelade and apple compote
Entrée: Giant prawns with parmesan risotto and truffled sausage.
Main course: Lamb with garlic potato and stuffed cabbage.
Cheese: Epoisse (sp? it stank!) andmusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1107469983066856932005-02-03T23:27:00.000+01:002005-02-03T23:33:03.066+01:00Almost a year to the day, I had my second Peeping Tom.
I doubt he got many thrills from my below the knee, big, cosy dressing gown and my big, fluffy, leopard print slippers, but it takes all sorts.
I am OK. Checked from an upstairs window that there is nobody out there.
But I just had to log back onto the computer, so I didn't feel so 'alone'.
Pathetic, huh?
OK, logging off again! (Thankyou for musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1107289015541620422005-02-01T20:58:00.000+01:002005-02-01T21:16:55.540+01:00I was reading a book in the bath that said all parents have a degree in 'How to ruin my child's life with facial expressions'.
Well I would say my parents are far, far better. They don't bother with facial expressions, they just come out and say those crippling comments without any of the subtlety of a raised eyebrow.
I lost my passport last week (hence the no blogging in my frenzied, wailing, musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1106347446433298472005-01-21T23:41:00.000+01:002005-01-21T23:44:06.433+01:00Why?
Why did I feel the need to tell my parents that I fancy men dressed up as women?
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1105983715662684922005-01-17T18:11:00.000+01:002005-01-17T18:41:55.663+01:00I'm not really one of those mothers that think their child is always so clever and wonderful in everyway. You know, the type that go on about their child's school report or how gifted they are at playing the oboe/speaking Chinese/potty training the goldfish.
So I thought I would point out a couple of stupid things sproglet's said today (ok, I admit, it's revenge - yesterday he told me he wanted musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1105303890241854262005-01-09T21:44:00.000+01:002005-01-09T21:51:30.240+01:00For my birthday I received a 'Men in Uniform' calendar, a CD with pictures of naked men attached to the songlist and my birthday party was spent comparing this years and last's 'Dieux du Stade' (naked French men) calendar.
I can't work out if my friends (andworse, family) think I am a single woman that assumes my sexuality and has a healthy regard for the male body, or that I'm some sad, musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1104871969110452992005-01-04T21:46:00.000+01:002005-01-04T21:52:49.110+01:00Sproglet came back from his dad's looking like Disney's Quasimodo. Depending on when you ask him, he banged it on a table/on the floor/running/sitting/Friday/Sunday/Saturday.
Anyway, the swelling has gone down and the cross eyed look (which was pretty scary actually) has gone.
Today, at school, an adult told sproglet something and told him 'it's a secret and we mustn't tell our mummys or daddys.'musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1104675390358762962005-01-02T15:13:00.000+01:002005-01-02T15:16:30.356+01:00Anyone else feel suicidal over the holidays?
Nope? Only me? *paranoia setting in*
Oh well, I'm sure all this angst will make me a better writer (I shall find out, anyway, as I am on a writing marathon tonight).
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1104174887290998072004-12-27T20:13:00.000+01:002004-12-27T20:14:47.290+01:00I'm thinking of having one of these: http://www.pubicshave.com/guccicoochy.html
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1104154282170957072004-12-27T14:25:00.000+01:002004-12-27T14:31:22.170+01:00I am crippled. Never buy your child a bike without stabilisers. My back is killing me from bending over, holding up and pushing the bloody thing along. Even typing that made me get another twinge.
I am also crippled with fear. I have been putting off sending the first chapter of my novel to anyone. If I send it and I am told it is crap and that I have no help in hell of getting it published, musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1103896126452435812004-12-24T14:40:00.000+01:002004-12-24T14:48:46.453+01:00I am just clearing out my office, going through the millions of bits of paper in various, multicoloured, paper envelopes, when I find a bit of scrap paper with a list:
baby
paper plates
pilot's licence
I look at these for awhile, in puzzlement, until I realise that it is a list of things I was going to blog about. Don't ask me the hell what!
Speaking of hell, I can't wait for tonight and musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1103712473387117012004-12-22T11:39:00.000+01:002004-12-22T11:47:53.386+01:00I'm going to get budgie disease.
I just touched the slice of tomato in their cage and licked my fingers absent mindedly.
The good news is that they are not bald yet.
Even better news is that sproglet is back. Well I have been trying to be happy about it, despite pre christmas fever, no games to be played that don't burst your ear drum, refusal to watch cute christmas programmes ('can we get the musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1103316416515800012004-12-17T21:40:00.000+01:002004-12-17T21:46:56.516+01:00Sproglet's dad took him today for the weekend, but told me he wouldn't bring him back before Christmas. I think he is just trying to get back at me for not sleeping with him when he propositioned me a few weeks back.
But watch this space come Christmas Eve, to see if I call the Police, Judge, Fire Brigade etc.
I am looking after two budgies over Christmas for some clients of mine. I have coveredmusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1103194451679710872004-12-16T11:49:00.000+01:002004-12-16T11:54:11.680+01:00Why, when I decided that sproglet could make this year's christmas cards, did I not realise that I would end up at my kitchen table last night, cutting pictures off last year's cards with pinking shears and getting gold stars glued to my forehead/backside/up my nose, whilst sproglet watches cartoons and claims he's too tired to help (with obligatory pathetic cough, just so I couldn't force him) ?musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1102971740933438382004-12-13T21:55:00.000+01:002004-12-13T22:02:20.933+01:00My birthday party was a success, despite having a wobbler beforehand and nearly cancelling it. I have never cooked for fourteen people before!
Thanks Ansh for the recipes!
I kept most of the presents for tomorrow morning, I opened the couple of CDs that C and J-L bought me. J-L had spent hours cutting out little photos of naked torsos to decorate the CD case. Out of nine bottles of wine, a 5 musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1102685250028395712004-12-10T14:24:00.000+01:002004-12-10T14:27:30.026+01:00I can't win. Either I am nice to people and I get told I am 'co dependant, too soft, blah, blah, blah' or I stand up for myself and what I want and get told I'm selfish.
I think the best thing all round is that I have a labotomy. I don't want my brain anymore, thankyou. Or if anyone is interested, I'm willing to loan it out, free of charge until after Christmas.
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1102525918972150812004-12-08T18:04:00.000+01:002004-12-08T18:11:58.973+01:00Ewwwwwwwwwwwww!
I cannot go anywhere near Zoe's blog http://www.myboyfriendisatwat.com/ at the moment, she's gone and had her tongue pierced. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwww!
I don't know why I'm cringing so much - having had more -um - intimate parts of my body pierced, but your tongue????????????? What were you thinking of girl????
Can someone tell me when it's safe to go back?
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1102348347579888292004-12-06T16:36:00.000+01:002004-12-06T16:52:27.580+01:00Monday again.
So what have I been up to? Oh yes, I am sure you will all want to hear the story of me nearly peeing myself.
When I went to Toulouse I bought myself a belt for the huge sum of 3 euros 95 cents. A rather fetching, purple canvas belt with a silver shiny buckle.
So I decided to wear it one morning to work. The buckle was slightly strange, it took me awhile to work out how the length ofmusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1101740603717147292004-11-29T16:01:00.000+01:002004-11-29T16:03:23.723+01:00http://www.ebaumsworld.com/disneyworker.html
I want to go to Disneyland.
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1101735071026358722004-11-29T14:26:00.000+01:002004-11-29T14:31:11.026+01:00I think I am in love with David Walliams. http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/littlebritain/ I dreamt on Saturday night that I was going out with him, although for some reason this involved going up and down alot of tunnels inside a cave, as is a feature in about 70% of my dreams .
He has such lovely legs, but I do find it a bit dodgy that he shagged Aby Titmus (mind you, who hasn't?).
He looks so lovelymusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1101398939414876822004-11-25T17:02:00.000+01:002004-11-25T17:08:59.413+01:00I am a girly wuss.
Got to work to find the weasel director who is unfairly dismissing me in my office.
So I walked round the corner and hid, rang my dad and gibbered down the phone that I couldn't go in to work and face him.
Of course I took deep breaths, walked in all bright and breezy (well as bright and breezy as you can be at 9am, shrouded by fog) and apart from 'can you tell me what this musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1101305000247932642004-11-24T14:45:00.000+01:002004-11-24T15:03:20.246+01:00Reasons I haven't blogged regularly:
1) My computer at home is so slow, that by the time blogger dashboard comes up it's next Tuesday.
2) My life has been so boring that I have refrained from telling my darling public about the fact that I have switched to soja milk or how I bought five christmas presents on Sunday *yawn* Be very grateful.
3) I am having a nervous breakdown in very slow motion, musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1100858395061116272004-11-19T10:49:00.000+01:002004-11-19T10:59:55.060+01:00A quiet life.
I know that if I got one I'd be moaning about being bored, but I wish I could have a quiet life. Just for a few days? Please?
The last few years have seen me going from one crisis to another, some of them the result of my own poor choices I admit, some of them most definitely not.
Yesterday I went to see a local union about my redundancy. I came out after an hour of chatting with musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1100517460116988722004-11-15T13:15:00.000+01:002004-11-15T12:18:30.360+01:00I can't believe that I've been a mother for FIVE YEARS today.
Happy Birthday sproglet!!!
Actually, this time five years ago I had been to see my gynaecologist for a check up prior to being induced. Little did I know that the darn gynae wiggled about up there somehow and half an hour after leaving his surgery I start having contractions.
Ex husband and I were invited to friends for lunch, so off musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1100212087296147192004-11-11T23:11:00.000+01:002004-11-11T23:28:07.296+01:00I just got back from New York.
I went to meet up with a friend that I used to live with ten years ago, in Norwich. C was overweight, a big drinker and emotionally fucked up. Her now husband used to live in a bedsit by the station and spend his dole money on hash.
Now C is a paralegal, does yoga every morning and follows a strict, vegan diet. Hubby is a manager for a courrier company with 150 musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1098970916685043122004-10-28T15:29:00.000+02:002004-10-28T15:41:56.686+02:00I am not so bothered about being made redundant, what I am pissed off about is the whole bloody procedure (and it looks like it might get bloody). I have to have a meeting next week, in which my boss will tell me I am being made redundant. According to all the advice I have had he is not within his rights and I should take him to court.
Gah!!!!!!!!!
I have had more than my fair share of musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1098891492319403362004-10-27T17:25:00.000+02:002004-10-27T17:38:12.320+02:00I have been neglecting my blog whilst consulting legal advisors and suchlike about my redundancy.
I am pleased to say, that I will be getting pretty much what I earn now - and that's guaranteed for 2 years. With a few projects also on the go already, the future is looking bright.
Those bastards on the telly have been saying 'It's Halloween!' between cartoons. No it bloody isn't Halloween. Sincemusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1098351942270771742004-10-21T11:34:00.000+02:002004-10-21T11:45:42.270+02:00I seem to be on a bit of a rant about child rearing at the moment - here comes another one!
Sproglet asked if his best friend at school could come to his Halloween party (no, it's not tomorrow. no, not after tomorrow either) so I popped in to the shop his family run to talk to his mother.
'Oh no!' she exclaimed, as if I had suggested dipping her child in hot wax, 'I don't let him out.'
Blank, musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1098194642247647642004-10-19T15:54:00.000+02:002004-10-19T16:04:02.246+02:00Trying to get rid of this feeling of doom, I decided to take sproglet to the shops after school to see if there were any decorations on sale yet for our Halloween party.
A witches hat with purple hair for me and a monster mask for sproglet later, we staggered home with pumpkins, candles, face paints and various paper plates with ghosts on them.
'When is Halloween?' asked sproglet.
'In two weeks musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1098042786269497782004-10-17T21:43:00.000+02:002004-10-17T21:57:12.203+02:00I've been watching alot of those child psychology programmes, that go into peoples' homes and see how they cope (or don't) with their kids.
I've just watched a three year old have a screaming tantrum and the mum saying 'please don't cry, shall we go and get you some sweets?' Aaaaaaaaaaaghhhhhh!
I would say to sproglet 'Stop making that awful noise it's giving me a headache - and if you think musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1098003644424083652004-10-17T10:50:00.000+02:002004-10-17T11:00:44.423+02:00It looks like I will be made redundant at the end of the year. I was quite pleased about this opportunity to change job/career/city/country and do whatever the hell I like, until my parents dropped by.
Oh yes, I counted the number of times the two of them said 'I'm not being funny, but...' , 'I'm not teaching you to suck eggs...' (what the fuck does that mean anyway?) and of course, that old musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1097830048259235932004-10-15T10:38:00.000+02:002004-10-15T10:47:28.260+02:00Babies.
I've actually been thinking for some time now that I would like another kid. I never, never thought, after two years of sleepless nights with sproglet that I could possibly feel broody again.
The only thing is, how do you get pregnant when you're not actually having sex?
So this morning on the way to work I was thinking about Turkey Basters.
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1097779669819022322004-10-14T20:42:00.000+02:002004-10-14T20:47:49.820+02:00Why does my mother say 'I know I shouldn't interfere, BUT...' ?
And why the feck does she want to clean her windows before she goes on holiday?
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1097525641678775602004-10-11T22:06:00.000+02:002004-10-11T22:14:01.680+02:00Sproglet was getting undressed earlier, throwing 'smelly socks' up in the air for me to catch, when he said 'Mummy, I went for a wee today at school'.
I suddenly realised that my son hasn't been to the toilet in the day time for five weeks now. The toilet is right next to his classroom, when he comes out at home time he sees the cleaners in there with their mops. How can he have not known where musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1097437868673850422004-10-10T21:47:00.000+02:002004-10-10T21:51:08.673+02:00Bugger. I left tomorrow's lunch in my parents' fridge.
I have a throat infection and a pounding headache and it's my first day back at work tomorrow. Not fair.
Oh well, shall have to console myself with pappadoms and chilli jam.
Life is full of small comforts :)
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1097089697088239402004-10-06T20:51:00.000+02:002004-10-06T21:08:17.086+02:00I'm nesting for the winter. I am painting the kitchen tiles bright orange, royal blue and vermillion red. I am as pleased as punch and hankering after a career in Interior design. If I can get buddhu to sell me some of his web space I'll ask him to put a photo up.
My christmas list so far is:
10 litres of Dulux paint in Biscuit.
One large bookcase with dark red paint to paint it with.
A marble musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1096920959905185172004-10-04T22:13:00.000+02:002004-10-04T22:15:59.906+02:00Can there be anything more joyful than singing along to Madness in the car with a four year old?
'It must be love, luuuuuurvvvvvvvvve! Dah dah!'
I had been getting a bit sick of the Best of Madness, but really, anyone that can make 'I like driving in my car' rhyme with 'even with a flat ty-ar!' has got to get some credit.
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1096889797878470672004-10-04T13:34:00.000+02:002004-10-04T13:36:37.876+02:00Stranger and stranger, said Liz.
The last post was lost in blogger space and then published itself with today's. Weird. Now it looks like I have gone completely mad, repeating myself (actually I do talk to myself and say the same stuff over and over. Aaaaaaaaagggggh).
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1096889268197863092004-10-04T13:18:00.000+02:002004-10-04T13:27:48.196+02:00I haven't abandoned my blog, but I have lost two posts in as many days which is quite frustrating because my computer is on it's way out and everything is excruciatingly slow.
In my absence, I have been pondering the changes in my life since the op. My life is the usual, chaotic mess that it has always been, but I have certainly changed my attitude.
Bank threaten to blacklist me? Who cares? I musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1096397021263056142004-09-28T20:39:00.000+02:002004-09-28T20:43:41.263+02:00My body is undergoing some strange changes.
I'm not sure i'm losing weight, but my waist is smaller, my face looks thinner and I feel better in general.
My thighs seem to have expanded -maybe I'll end up with curves in the right places! I bought a new bra and I have gone down one cup size. Luckily I have been exercising so the boobs haven't drooped as yet!
Am I weird in hoping that my scar musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1096058470890657392004-09-24T22:33:00.000+02:002004-09-24T22:41:10.890+02:00Ok, so who does joined up writing?
I had an appointment with sproglet's teacher today, after school. I was suitably nervous, as if I was about to be given detention, or told to speak in Assembly.
Apparently sproglet has ' a real problem with joined up writing'. The fact that he only learnt capitals and 'maman' and 'papa' at his old school may have something to do with it.
Hell, I can't do joinedmusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1095930622009311292004-09-23T10:58:00.000+02:002004-09-23T11:10:22.010+02:00Why, when you are having a bad day, do you attract more bad stuff? It's like some evil, bad luck pixie is thinking 'Quick, while she's down I'll shove a bit more crap her way, she'll never notice.'
In the last 24 hours, I have discovered that my sick pay has been messed up so I won't get paid anything this month, one of my bills has already been returned unpaid by the bank and my director is musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1095882792273584642004-09-22T21:40:00.000+02:002004-09-22T21:53:12.273+02:00I'm back. Fancy foot and cancer free.
Relief and frustration that I still feel knackered, my skin is still dry, my limbs still ache. I guess that's what convalescence is for.
While I've been gone, the inevitable has happened. Buddhu has strayed.
He tells me it was a one off, that he was feeling lonely that 'you weren't around and I just got tempted'.
Yes. He has been giving other women financialmusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1095154253988024282004-09-14T11:30:00.000+02:002004-09-14T15:19:53.806+02:00Liz gets discharged today!Liz gets discharged today!
but she did say she liked her new home, hospital!she can talk, walk normally. Thanks to the crappy women's magazines that she has been reading, she now knows 'how to make yourself happy' and 'perfect diet' surprisingly it does not include alcohol!
Liz would not blog or come online for a few more days, as she is being chaperoned by her parents while she is getting usedmusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1095083573339768412004-09-13T15:48:00.000+02:002004-09-13T18:33:54.880+02:00Liz on a hunger strike!
Liz is on a hunger strike in the hospital because she is sick of having mashed potatoes and boiled carrots. The hospital catering have rejected her petition to cook with a camping stove in her room ! (even bribing the chef with loads of Spices didn't work!, well french for you!)
Now she is knocking door-to-door asking other patients to sign her petition 'Better food musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1094834666065262492004-09-10T18:25:00.000+02:002004-09-10T18:44:26.066+02:00Update on the Operation!
Operation went well!!! the meat balls have been sucessfully taken out and are being tested for their expiry date and if it is OK, will be rebottled and sold in supermarkets!
Liz is also doing well, expect for the fact that she cannot talk lots now as her throat is still healing!(which is heaven for me!)
So now basically it is 3 weeks of relaxation by poolside, grapes andmusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1094803125053825762004-09-10T09:48:00.000+02:002004-09-10T09:58:45.053+02:00This is buddhu, blogging for Liz.
Liz is in the hospital to take out couple of meat balls stuck in her throat. I talked to her, she is doing fine, operation is this afternoon.
Only worrying thing was she packed 3 pair of trousers, i think 3 skirts and 2 t-shirts for 2-3 days in hospital!
anyways, she wanted me to let you guys know that she is in Hospital that is why she is not blogging. i hope musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1094636608492668922004-09-08T11:33:00.000+02:002004-09-08T11:43:28.493+02:00As a special treat before I go into hospital, my boss has gone off on holiday and left me in charge for the week. At least I am too busy to worry about the op.
Now I am up for promotion to replace pervy boss at the end of the year and pervy boss often refers clients to me because he can't answer their query BUT the locals have a bit of a problem with a woman working in a position of musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1094568766745135322004-09-07T16:51:00.000+02:002004-09-07T16:52:46.746+02:00Why I like my friends:
When chatting to C about our upcoming trip to New York, she said 'Dan mentioned the Guggenheim too, although I didn't know if he really wanted to go there, or just liked saying the word "guggenheim".'
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1094390864294066972004-09-05T15:10:00.000+02:002004-09-05T15:27:44.293+02:00I found some of my marbles. There were a couple in a pot plant in the lounge and one in the kettle (helps prevent limescale apparently).
So I am feeling relatively sane. I'm now worried for sproglet's sanity. I woke up this morning to the sounds of him scrubbing the bath. Yesterday, he washed my mother's bath and scoured her soap dish. I am desperately trying to think of a decent paying career musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1094220590716474222004-09-03T16:07:00.000+02:002004-09-03T16:09:50.716+02:00I really am losing my marbles.
Last night I drove home, got all the way to my house - no problem there - sang along to Madness (sproglet's current fave) and then went to back into a parking spot. The problem?
I'd forgotten how to reverse my car.
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1094141162103856402004-09-02T18:04:00.000+02:002004-09-02T18:06:02.103+02:00This morning I drove very carefully, very slowly into the parking spot infront of my office that I use every day.
I drove straight into the wall.
I think I should be sectioned. I'm a danger to society at the moment (and to walls).
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1094051186741106502004-09-01T16:56:00.000+02:002004-09-01T17:06:26.740+02:00Several things:
I love my anaesthetist. He asked how much I weighed, I said I didn't have a clue. He guessed about ten kilos underneath what I probably am. He complimented me on my French and shook my hand twice, very firmly, before I left. I'm kinda pleased about this because I figure if he likes me he will take better care of me (and hopefully give me more painkillers - drug me! please!).
Themusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1093940282675390722004-08-31T10:12:00.000+02:002004-08-31T10:18:02.676+02:00You may have noticed (Monday's post would have been a clue) that I am Not In A Very Good Mood.
The reasons for this are :
1) I am shitting myself about my operation.
2) I lost my best friend to her alcoholic husband.
3) I have been having nightmares about being in hospital alone.
4) I am feeling extremely sorry for myself re the above.
5) I very much doubt that I will be getting a flood of get musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1093938719806456992004-08-31T09:41:00.000+02:002004-08-31T09:51:59.806+02:00Sproglet got his own back today for me starting him in a new school by laughing at me while I had blood taken out of each arm. He enjoyed my pain so much that he didn't even cry when I left him at school this morning. I hope he keeps this up and I don't have to cheer him up again, or I'll be losing alot of blood.
musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1093872224832694972004-08-30T15:16:00.000+02:002004-08-30T15:23:44.833+02:00Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
I reserve the right to blog what I want, when I want.
I actually have a life away from the computer, what with work, sproglet, ill health, msn parties etc I don't always get time to look at everyones' blogs. Sometimes I look, but don't get the time to comment. Sometimes I love the post but have nothing to say. I look at most people on my blogroll and also a hell of alot of ones musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1093508757263203712004-08-26T09:49:00.000+02:002004-08-26T10:25:57.263+02:00Huh. That's the last time I ask my dad to babysit. After asking me five times what time Sproglet should go to bed, I came home to find him asleep, fully clothed on the sofa having fallen asleep at eleven o'clock.
'He was as good as gold' said my dad, 'We watched Only Fools and Horses together and he laughed like a drain'. (Where does that expression come from? Drains don't laugh do they?)
It's musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1093351257958198192004-08-24T14:35:00.000+02:002004-08-24T15:23:54.610+02:00Now if it wasn't for buddhu, my life would be even more of a disaster. He is kind of a financial advisor, events organiser and personal assistant rolled into one. I even get him to help me buy shoes.
When I am rich, I am going to hire him to drive me around in a big Mercedes, field calls from my Literary agent and invest my money for me in his own, highly successful Multimillion international musernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1093350322957771462004-08-24T14:15:00.000+02:002004-08-24T14:25:22.956+02:00I am a walking disaster today, as befits a dumb blonde.
Just as I was feeding the rabbit before leaving for work I split my skirt down one side. I was already running late, so on time to change. My first job when I arrived i the office was sticking the split together with sellotape (note: sellotape is shite for sticking cloth together. I have thought of stapling it, but then I may actually wantmusernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627800.post-1093276506279950552004-08-23T17:44:00.000+02:002004-08-23T22:07:11.350+02:00Oops.
I was on the phone to my friend P whilst at work:
'So when are we going to get together to work on this book? I have got to get out of this fucking job. Yeah, that's great. Seriously, I am bloody losing it. Oh shit. I've got to go, some more fucking customers walked in. I can't believe the amount of bloody time wasters that walk in here. Oh, just quickly, apparently I can claim some childmusernoreply@blogger.com