If you could connect with one person from your past, who would it be and why?
Submitted by NayNay72.
Been there, done that. Scared em off again.
]]>It suddenly dawned on me that I might need to be more organised, when I was calling a client and had my TOP SECRET CLIENT NOTEBOOK open on the bed next to me. The next thing I know Seth has scrawled all over my TOP SECRET NOTES and I explode into a panic of disorderly despair.
Things were once so simple. Energy suppliers were centralised. I tell you privatisation has done me no favours (is this the point where anyone under the age of 25 reminisces about GCSE history. Yeah gads, I'm starting to sound alarmingly like my Mother again) I come from a family where Dad did all the bills and stuff, and they were all kept in a kitchen drawer and paid, in cash, weekly or monthly. Housekeeping was paid to Mum via a stash of notes left behind the clock on the mantlepiece, and there was no such thing as 'credit' and 'HP' in our house, so there was no call for files, or spreadsheets. Kitchen Drawer, the font of all household knowledge.
Meanwhile, I've found myself surrounded by ring binders, which I've just yanked out of the kitchen cupboard. (See, the fruit never falls far and all that) calenders everywhere, in the front room, on the computer, on my phone, in my handbag, notebooks and lists and piles of stuff everywhere. And thats just house/family related stuff.
I don't remember my mum having a big f*ck off chart on the kitchen wall detailing what everyone is up to during the week. As we ran out of the door we shouted "off to *insert activity, in my case usually completely fabricated* back before tea/dark/Eastenders" and yet I'm staring at an A1 whiteboard thingemy, and trying to work out when I can see the voice therapist, as its currently clashing with soft play and squash?
No one told me when I entered into this whole family business there'd be so much (paper)work involved. Life used to be simple. I got a cheque from the LEA- I spent it on new clothes and some booze. I got a cheque from The Student Loan company- I spent it on a holiday to Ibiza. As I earned a crust I then cannily set up direct debits for rent and minimum payments and then got down to the serious work of spending my money till the hole in the wall said "no funds available."
I don't even know how it happened, as it used to be John who looked after money/housey things, but suddenly I'm the one searching for cheaper car insurance and juggling credit cards for 12 months free balance transfers and making sure the bills are paid on time.
I'm legendarily dreadful at filing and record keeping and accounting and whatnot. Ask my old boss.
So I'm doing all this and then I get a job which involves TOP SECRET STUFF, and embark on a course that involves reading lots of books and writing lots of essays and even more TOP SECRET STUFF, and I realise (don't laugh) I need a home office.
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Ez: "What time do you go to bed mum and dad?" about 8, or 9 or 13 o'clock?"
Me: "About elevenish"
Ez: "Sometimes me and Seth pretend we've got foot guns" aims toes at me and fires.
Me: ...............
Later, Seth is coming down the slide, when another boy slides after him, kicking him in the head
Seth: "That bloody kid, he do kick me in the head when he come down that slide, mummy"
Me: "oh, poor Sethy" pause "Did you say a sweary word Seth?"
Meanwhile, kicking boy's father tells him off for kicking Seth in the head, and looks at me for validation.
Seth: "No, I said, that bloody kid he do kick me in the head. Boy isn't a sweary word. I don't say Fuck because Daddy do say that is a sweary word"
Boys father grimaces at language and encourages his boys to run off. Other Mum's in the park start to grin at each other, whilst I dig myself further
Me: "Bloody, is a sweary word. And don't say that word either- even in explanation"
Ez: "No it in't its baslemy"
Me: "Its not really blasphemy, its..."
Seth: "Its not sweary, Dad said"
Me: "Whatever it is, its rude"
Seth: Shouting "Mummy, that rude boy, he do kick me in my head"
Ez: "He's not rude, he is naughty. Whats a baslemy, Mummy? Is that word that Seth said in the car baslemy or sweary?"
Me: "It was an accident"
Ez: "Mum, mum. Seth, what was that word you said in the car?".
Seth: "Bugger! Mum, can I do a wee outside?" Pulls down shorts and pants in the middle of the playground.
Me: "Enough! Seth, pull up your pants. We'll go for a wee in the toilet. Anymore sweary words and we'll go home"
Seth and Ez lose interest and run off toward toilets, whilst rude boy's dad stares. Mums piss themselves laughing. The ground opens and I fall in.
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I won't be blogging about anyone for a while. Unfortunately, people have been reading my blog and taking it as an accurate portrayal of reality, and crucially, passing information on. Whilst not intentionally harmful, it is intrusive and potentially damaging.
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1. What were you doing ten years ago?
Probably skiving off work early to sit outside a pub in Marylebone high street.
2. List five (non-work) things on my to-do list for today.
Sort my mum's finances
Make a prawn and pea risotto, and fish fingers new potatoes and green beans for the lads
Get a tan without burning
Watch big brother
Sleep
3. Snacks I enjoy:
All snacks. ALL OF THEM. Except sweets because they're essentially sugar and therefore shit.
4. Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
Everything
5. Places I have lived:
Eccleshill
Roehampton
Surbiton
Tooting
Wimbledon
Idle
6. Jobs I have had:
1st job was when I was 14. I worked in a freezer shop (selling frozen food, not freezers). Me and Lynn got sacked when the owner discovered that the freezer might be destroying our ovaries, and we might in years to come, sue him
"Dunnes Stores for better value everyday" I remember the canteen did reasonable food and I worked far too many saturdays under the influence of the night before.
Roehampton Tennis and Golf club. I was a silver service waitress, and I loved it. I wore incredibly short skirts. The intrigue, the poshness, the stinginess of wealthy people, the frogs legs, the stolen booze and whole sides of beef. I met John here. He was the KP, and I first saw him sitting cross legged on the stainless steel work surface, reading the sun and wearing pigtails.
Playworker. Best job. ever.
Sitel Communications. Needs must/callcentre work, straight after uni which was fun and piss easy. They sent me on secondment to a major own brand retailer with an annoying food ad. Worked in Customer services, with own brand retailer, then Merchandising in Foods, before moving into Product Development and becoming a Trends Analyst. Which was wicked and involved lots of free food and lots of nice restaurants and insulting lots of famous chefs when a bit pissed. However, all of the successful people there worked 90 hour weeks and women took about 2 days maternity leave, and a lot of people left their families and actually lived in town all week, and had affairs with suppliers and colleagues rather than just living at home. Madness I tell thee. I realised this world wasn't for me and luckily I got knocked up just in time to welome voluntary redundancy, rather than becoming one of the successful people (or probably not)
Parent
Counsellor
I'm tagging everyone
]]>I don't usually win anything, and I suspect I might've won this because no one else entered, but this weekend (babysitters pending) John and I will be here, quaffing and noshing.
Ok, so its not the 2 weeks in Mauritius tickets, nor is it the american double fridge freezer, and its not the Lotto (however, I'd have to buy a ticket to win that) but hells bells, I've won something. Thats good karma, right?
]]>How many houses have you lived in? How is where you live now different from where you grew up?
Loads
1974-1984 small terrace in eccleshill, bradford. shared bedroom with stinky little sister
1984-1993 slightly bigger semi in Eccleshill, gets biggest bedroom all. Source of major resentment to myself
1993-1994 Froebel hall of residence, Froebel College, Roehampton Sarf Lahndan. All girls, I had my own room next to the toilet and my next door neighbour and I had exclusive use of a very large bathroom. Nice.
1994-1995 Flatshare in Roehampton with 3 friends. 2 of them completely insane. One of them liked Keith Sweat, her room smelt fishy and her boyfriend turned out to be an armed robber. The other was just a complete pain in the arse. Met John whilst living in this house
1995 few months?- More roehampton- bigger house, Got rid of the pain, and moved with fishy girl and best friend. Lived there for a bit but hated it. Moved out
1995-1996 Rat infected massive semi in Surbiton with John, and his twin brother, and fraser the chef and anorexic bekki. Great times were had- mostly because it was cheap, a stones throw from Kingston and had a garden.
1996-1997 3 months living with my inlaws in Battersea- nuff said.
1997-2000 Moved in with John and Jojo and her then boyfriend- (Jo changes boyfriends during our stay in the flat)Tooting Bec
2000- moved out, left John and moved into a studio flat in Tooting Bec
2000-2001 Wimbledon flat. Nice location, but I just wasn't feeling it. Got married-to John
2001-2002 Back to Tooting, my spiritual home.
2002-2007 Slightly posher flat, Jo and Matt move round the corner. We have two sprogs
2007-2008- Idle, Bradford. Big semi, big garden. round the corner for my mum and sister
2008- wins lottery, buys massive house in Rawdon and pied a terre in London.
]]>*It tipped it down. We were so wet and cold beforehand and my fellow runner had an awful cold. Still everyone seemed to set off running so we we tagged along. We walked up the big hills but ran the rest of the way. On the home straight I spotted a red hooded small person and knew it was Seth. John hurled us a couple of cans of beer and we actually sprinted toward the finish.
We did it in about 26 minutes (we're not sure because I threw my phone to john just before the end and had to ask someone the time as we crossed the finish)
I then dashed up to the hospital to give my mum my medal.
She kissed it and gave it back.
(I'm the one on the right, Nat is on the left)
*For all those who have been touched by cancer
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The last two days me and the kids have been looking after each other, as John swanned off to the smoke for some R&R with his menfriends. Alledgedly they played bowls, proving that he is infact 83 years old. He is also sporting a ginger handlebar moustache. Oh, dear.
So, back to single parenting. It was hard this time. Not least because Seth has got his face up against the boundaries and is trying to kick and scream his way through as only sociopathic psychotic two year olds can.
So, far;
* He has stolen my hidden chocolate bar. Good stuff. 90% proof. I hid it in the letter rack. Seth found a stool, placed a cushion on top, found my chocolate, ate it then hid the wrapper in the bin. Apparently he is sorry he ate my chocolate, and I am his best friend. (opens his mouth to display absense of chocolate)
* Refused to sit still in the cinema and demanded we leave after 45 seconds. He went for four poo's, three wee's and spent the rest of the film screeching to the other viewers before we left. I have a strong embarassment threshold when it comes to my kids but even I was mortified.
* Managed to wet the bed twice in two hours on thursday night despite wearing a bedtime nappy.
*Screamed every 45 seconds for 3 days. Why isn't he hoarse yet?
*Spilt my last G&T. Boys were newly bathed and pj'd up. teeth brushed about to slumber. Glass with ice, dreamy condensation forming on the outside of the glass. Slice and a twist. The plan: Throw boys in bed, speed read 2 books, run downstairs. Savour drink. Seth then walked passed, swung his teddy in the air and my drink flew in slow motion, splattering the carpet. Apparently he is sorry he spilt my drink and I am his best friend.
*Got himself stuck in a bush, under his bed, in a cupboard, behind and under the sofa
*Demanded not just kisses, but precise kisses. The duration, pressure, angle and position, under pain of death. Kisses are not a happy event after 10 minutes of agonising frustration- on both our parts.
John will be home in two hours.
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Dear Gordon Brown,
I can tolerate bargain pasta (I just don't eat it. Food snob till the bitter end)
I can accept life without the gym. (I've heard walking counts as exercise and running outside is like a treadmill, only windier)
I can use basic soap and moisturiser (Especially after that documentary that shows beauty products make your wrinkles deeper!)
I can handle walking rather than driving (Ok, so its wet and windy, but the fresh air does us all good during the frantic march down to Ezra's nursery)
We can live without the heating (We are wearing three jumpers and huddled together in one room playing jumping games tstop our extremities turning blue)
I cannot, and will not tolerate life without gin.
Sincerely,
Minks
cc. John
Inland Revenue
Man who runs Lottery
Lady Luck
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