Saturday, 27 August 2011

Smurfs, shops and skulls and crossbones.....

The kids have been nagging to go to the cinema for a couple of weeks and last weekend never worked out so this  morning we trailed off to see 'The Smurfs'. I was dreading it. There are very few kiddie films that don't make me fall asleep so I prepared for a sneaky nap after munching my Ben and Jerry's. I love the ice cream stall at the cinema but I always scoff the stuff before the Pearl and Dean adverts, leaving me to steal popcorn from the kids much to their disgust. I hate to admit it,  but 'The Smurfs' was actually quite good. Much better than 'Alvin and the Chipmunks II' and 'Cats and Dogs'. Two atrocities of films which would have had you reaching for a set of earplugs and a noose to hang yourself. Adults should really get in free or be given free drink to sustain them. Excitement of the day was when the lights suddenly came on and the film stopped half way through, only for security to come in and kick some nutter out who was trying to record the film. He left proclaiming they were 'ar**holes'. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the wee boy with him. Having to endure the humiliation of having an eejit for a father AND missing the end of the film. Some poor kids have got it hard.......

Did some shopping, fleeces for the kids for winter, a bag of marbles for H and then L spotted her absolute favorite thing. Claire's were selling their 'Lucky Bags'. These basically, are made up bags of tat that they can't sell which are then sold off for the princely sum of five pounds. L can't resist them and sadly for me she remembered I was due her a fiver.  I had raided her bank for bus fares a few weeks back. She is like an elephant - she never forgets. Result! She left happy having splashed her ill gotten gains on a bag which contained -2 pairs of ear festering earrings. Six strands of luminous beads. One pair of frilly gloves. 1 purple baker boy style hat. 1 set of hair bands. 1 set of hair clips. 1angel halo head band. 1 tinsel bobble. 1 white belt with skulls and crossbones (very Jack Sparrow). I added up the prices of the various tags which came to £47.50! Anybody who paid that for such a barrow load of guff would be off their head. L on the other hand was beside herself with glee.....

As I write this a marble match is going on on the living room floor. H is cheating with embarrassing ease. I am not sure which is worse, the fact that he is cheating,  or the fact that S is mad because he is losing to a six year old hustler.......

Wednesday, 24 August 2011

Back to earth with a bang.....

The school holidays are now well and truly over and it's back to the grind which also means back to Big Dunc's for the next round of torture before my back packs in again. I am hoping the chiro manages to to keep me sorted though. 'I' picked me up this morning in her new car - a convertible. I am ashamed to say that I was like a kid in a candy shop, never having been in convertible before (I have obviously led a sheltered life!). We arrived at the gym in style for Aquafit and slid into the pool with the rest of the class which consisted of us, four other ladies and two OAPS. I took a look round and thought 'Is this it?' There I was, flapping about in a swimming pool with Derby and Joan who had more wrinkles between them than an Indian Elephant.  I need to be more dynamic. I also need to be slimmer, lighter and fitter. I imagined myself knocking seven bells out of a punch bag in the body combat class and felt knackered at the thought...

After the school fayre meeting the other night I came home with my list of orders. The tasks for this year have been divvied up to try and lighten the load. I have to:

1 -  scrounge 4 raffle prizes from local businesses (a ruddy thankless task in some cases)
2 - order crimp in hair braids to adorn the little darlings nit infested nappers
3 - coordinate helpers on the day (in otherwords say 'right you are on this stall...on ye go!')
4-  arrange pick up of the leftover donations after the fayre (if nobody wanted them on the day it's hardly likely anyone will want them later, a stop off at the local dump might be just as useful
5  - (my personal favorite) sort the donations in school in the week leading up to the fayre.

Sorting donations is hilarious. There is nothing like raking through other folks junk. In the past few years we have had everything from radioactive bath salts (ones from M&S fifteen years old), a delightful cup and saucer affair with handy ashtray built in bearing the words ' a sip and a smoke' - more like a puff and a choke. But my personal favorite has to be the Little Britain doll of Matt Lucas dressed as Daffyd the Only Gay in the Village, resplendant in his red pvc hot pants. Just what the vicar ordered! I remember myself and 'I' raking through a rather wierd bag of stuff only to discover it was actually the contents of someones black rubbish bag which should have went out for the bin cart. Goodness knows what happened to the real stuff, we were left sorting through balls of hair, ripped up newspapers and crisp bags when the penny finally dropped.....

Tuesday, 23 August 2011

Guilt trip time.......

Yep, that's me finally decided to step down from the School Council. Well when I say finally, I actually wanted to last year,  but gave in and stayed on,  because not a soul other than the usual suspects turned up to last year's AGM. I  really can't do another year, for lots of reasons. The main one being that at present I am probably the world's most intolerant person. Intolerant in,  that if I hear another flap about angina warning signs for bouncy castles that solely will have kiddies leaping on them, I think the top of my head will blow off. Our local council must be the biggest bunch of jobsworths ever. A bunch of folk who cannot distinguish between common sense and  health and safety overload. No home baking - you might die from e-coli, botulism or Lord Forbid! Old age. The amount of certificates required to hire an inflatable castle last year was laughable. Insurance for this, insurance for that, and more signs to warn you of impending doom than you would need entering a nuclear reactor.

It is a thankless task being involved in trying to do stuff for the community. Folk either look at you like you are a sandwich short of a picnic, or mutter 'don't know how you can be bothered'. Or worse still,  complain about your efforts. You tend to find as well that the complainers are usually the type that wouldn't know where to start A. because they are too lazy and B. because they are too thick to know how to. But they complain none the less.  Hats off to anyone who is decent enough to try. It's just as well they do. As the 'Don't know how you can be bothered brigade' would have no where to send their little darlings for an hours worth of sanity. Although I am stepping down I know I will probably still do more than I should but hey! that's why I have the word 'Mug' tattooed on my forehead....

Anyway before I go I will be involved in running the school fayre, the highlight of last year's being an idiot who threw a tantrum (I kid you not!) at the tombola stall because she didn't win the prize she wanted. I hasten to add this was a grown woman not a child. How I wish I had been running that........

Thursday, 18 August 2011

Worries......

Found under L's bed when cleaning : The following list....spelling as written

MY WORST WORRIES AND PROBLEMS IN THE FUTURE. (dated 8.2.11)

1 a wrinkly botom
2 a bosey teacher
3 have a wort on bum
4 a bad teacher
5 to have direa

Isn't life simple when you are nine? I would willingly trade a dose of the scoot or a wrinkly butt to get rid of the mortgage or guarantee a worry free life. A question though. Why don't we just spell diarrhoea like that? Far simpler.

Cleaned H's bed out today. He has a new cabin bed which is a nightmare to change but after scrubbing his room out started to strip it. In his bed were the following items:

a stuffed astronaut
a backscratcher from 'Islas de Balleares' (gifted to him by A's hubby. I use it for reaching across the bed to retrieve stuff , have not a clue what he uses it for).
3 copies of 'The Sky at Night' magazine.
The remote control for his light up moon
a very small Dr Who complete with sonic screwdriver
post it notes
a pencil (how many times have I told him not to take them to bed?)
a metal spring

It school fayre clean out time again. His room has been relatively easy. His sisters...........well, if I am posted missing at any point it is probably because I have disappeared under her bed never to return from the land of fluff, dust and junk......




Monday, 8 August 2011

Yellow Van Time....

The rot is setting in. Yep, finally after nearly six weeks off I want to shut my children in the garage and sit rocking myself in a corner.  The weather hasn't helped mind you, or the lack of folk to play with. The kids in the street seem to have disappeared either on holiday, or to child minders or grannies for the summer holidays. Kids clubs?  They should have parents clubs with intravenous vodka, cream cakes, foot spas and helpers who just agree with you all the time. Instead of kids who wind you up to the point that you are sure your neighbour thinks you're the psycho parent from hell.....

A, I, student mum J and myself took off with assorted offspring to the festival last week. We went for the preview shows. A as usual had excelled herself getting cheap deals for the kids shows (you don't need Martin's Money Tips when A's about) and meal deals at Pizza Express. The first show we went to see was Mr Benn. Now some of you might remember him from our childhood when childrens' TV was still in the stone age. A wee man in a bowler hat who went to a fancy dress shop, got dressed up in an outfit and went through another door to an adventure. The show was excellent though I think it was appreciated more by the adults than the kids. After the show a friendly red headed lady asked the kids if they had enjoyed themselves. As she left we realised it was Anita Dobson - what a nice lady.

Walking up the Pleasance the kids were fascinated by the billboards advertising the various shows on offer. Of course as usual they were drawn to the inappropriate. 'Puppetry of the Penis' is showing. Now, for the uninformed, this is an hour of watching two naked guys in cloaks contorting their man bits into things like the Eiffel Tower and a hamburger. How they discovered this talent is questionable. To add to the bizarreness of the whole event it is now in 3D.  Needless to say there was much tittering and sniggering amongst the kids. One of whom asked her mum what the show involved. 'A' tried to explain in not so many words the gist of the whole thing and was met with the comment. 'Would it not be more appropriate to use clay?'...... Sometimes kids are wiser than adults........

Aye the Edinburgh Festival is full of the crazy, mad and downright outrageous. But it's also a brilliant few weeks and I try not to miss it. It's amazing how we all have short memories. When I worked in the city centre I used to dread it as the traffic was chaotic and it could take an hour on the bus to navigate Princes Street alone. Now it's the next best thing since sliced bread.....

Tuesday, 2 August 2011

A Poop in a Bag is worth Two in the Grass.......

I don't seem to have posted for ages. I have discovered that I can't write when I am not feeling great - I have to be in a specific state of mind - and I also have to have some decent subject matter as well.

Sometimes things happen which fill you with such rage that you end up having to do something about the situation. Saturday morning was a prime example. I happened to saunter out of the shower in a really good mood as we were going on a day out. The sun was shining and all was jolly. The joviality I felt instantly disappeared as my eyes fell on a person from down the road letting his dog leave a deposit on the grassy square opposite the house. Not content with that, he took his foot and kicked the cut grass over the top of it. I was enraged.  The kids from the street play on that bit of grass which is set back off the road, so it is a decent safe place to play and the filthy sod was well aware of that . To say I was irate would have been generous.  It was a damn good thing I was only wearing a towel as it meant I was unable to leap from my door and tackle him.  Actually, in retrospect,  I might have been far more intimidating in just a towel.  On the other hand the prospect of it slipping and me being carted away on an indecent exposure charge was not good. Off he sauntered down the street, happy in the knowledge that his dog had shat on someone else's doorstep and not his own. I went downstairs, still fuming, and told S who obviously was worried I was about to cause a riot in the street.  So I did something I have never done before, I got the council phone number and phoned to complain.  I can only assume that the lady I spoke to either had the patience of a saint or had been at one point employed by the  Samaritans. She listened sympathetically as I ranted on about how the kids could roll in it etc, etc and promised he would be spoken to. I hope to goodness I don't spot him again as I honestly wont be able to contain myself from shovelling it up and trailing off down the street to leave it on his doorstep.

Saturday  afternoon was lovely in Edinburgh. So much so it was bringing out the loonies. Trailing down Castle Street I thought the heat was making me hallucinate as I clocked something pink trailing towards myself and L. Getting closer I realised to my horror it was a stag party complete with two eejits dressed up as a six foot willy and a set of ladybits. There was no escape. I couldn't go round them as the road was narrow so I had to plough along dragging L by the hand who was wetting herself laughing and shouting 'Mum, what are they meant to be?' She must think my head zips up the back......