Not Dead

Hey, look, I’m not dead!

I just felt like I was dead for the best part of a month. It is my own fault for teaching the children to share.

I got the bug, I got all the different symptoms and I got it hard. Combine that with what I lovingly refer to as ‘all my pre-existing shite’ and I haven’t really been sharing the same planet as everybody else and even something as simple as throwing some words together and hitting ‘publish’ has been too much to contemplate at the end of the day.

Good news is that I am over most of the bug now and while the ‘pre-existing shite’ is having a bit of a party having gained my hard defended higher ground I shall be seeing the aptly named ‘pain team’ just as soon as I get to the head of the lovely waiting list and we can then hopefully tweak some of my medication, maybe throw in some more physio therapy and regain the upper hand. Until then I am just a bit slower, more tired, dealing with more pain and just ever so slightly off the ball. Try and stick with me as I build myself back up again terminator style.


Pictured: Mad Cat playing Rambo up a tree because… cat

So what else has been going on, well lets see, my laptop hard drive felt a bit like I did and gave up so the laptop went for a holiday to the sick Mac hospital but has come back strong post transplant. The children have kept me ever amused with gems like when the girl exclaimed while playing a game ‘Oh, maybe I am not as good as I thought I was!’ and when the boy pitched a 10 minute fit about the location of his other shoe only to find it on his foot. The banned topic has also kept me busy banging my head against brick walls so thats been fun.

Time now to move onward and upward. We find ourselves just a week away from yet another school holiday and another daily holiday diary. I am throwing a curveball on this one by actually taking the children on holiday! We have to be out of the home while we have a new bathroom fitted to replace the one that was badly installed when the house was built in the early 80’s. For a moment I will put aside the terrible drainage, poor workmanship and lack of shower to say the most offensive thing that I will be glad to see the back of it the fact the sorry mess of a bathroom is peach in colour and more 80’s than shoulder pads.

So on the 16th The girl, The boy and myself shall take Bob on his first trip north as we head off first to Liverpool and then the following weekend Greater Manchester. For our time in Liverpool we are booked in for some solid Grandma time but if anybody in the geographical area wants to get together and be bored senseless by me and or the boy and girl please, let me know, I am needy and would love to see anyone who is willing to put up with me. If anybody is up for a grown up evening for one week only I could even get a babysitter or you could join Grandma and me for a night in. I’m deprived (also depraved) needy and willing!

On that sad, sad note I will sign off with the hope I will write again before the holiday diary starts because so far my blog plans for the year haven’t got off to the best of starts!


Don’t call the doctor

The Doctor failed to come through on the lone of the Tardis. Selfish git.

I decided in fine fashion that if I was not going get everything done I would instead get next to nothing done and promptly gave myself the day off. I said ‘ahhhh’ and skipped home from the school drop off feeling light as a feather. Walking away from school on the first day of term is quite a glorious feeling and the rejuvenating properties of this experience should not be overlooked. Unfortunately they get very tetchy if you fail to return at 3.15pm to pick the little blighters up but I recommend that rather than dwelling on this you should rather focus on the fact you get to drop them off again the next morning.

Tomorrows joy shall be blighted slightly by having to haul myself up to the hospital in the morning for the biannual ritual of having doctors look deeply into my eyes, shake their heads and suck air through their teeth just like a plumber about to give a quote. Again I look on the bright side, a good couple of hours to sit and read my rather neglected book guilt free, as long as they don’t decide they need to dilate my eyes and spoil my fun. It is remarkably hard to read with pupils that resemble daft cat when he gets into one of ‘those’ moods and any movement at all triggers a flying ginger ball of claws and teeth that attaches it’s self to any uncovered flesh and is only sated once it has tasted blood. Caution should be used however about being too forthright about this wanton sabotage of reading time.


Pictured: Eye hospital complaints procedure

I hope to get onto delivering the next and overdue part of the ‘Mothering the Apocalypse’ series over the next day or so eye sight and laziness permitting. I think there is a good 2 – 4 more parts in that one left to tell. Then there is also my reckless decision to kick off a new fiction series that I must address, there are 2 more parts of ‘The Holiday’ and they will come along as soon as my crippling procrastination allows.

My hope is to get the blog on something resembling a schedule with one fiction piece coming out on a set day each week. Even though the daily posting of the holiday diary has at times been exhausting I have found that overall I quite enjoyed knowing I needed to produce something every day and this evening I sat down thinking ‘At least I don’t have to blog’ but it didn’t take long before the fingers started to twitch and for better or worse here we are. So I am setting myself a loose goal to be getting something up 6 days as week.

Please let me know what you think in regard to the posting frequency and content, it can be quite nerve wracking working in a vacuum and trying to judge the balance between fiction and horror life. I am as always keen to hear what you think, what you like and what you would like to change. You are also welcome to tell me that I am hopelessly deluded and self centred (unless you are the bitch), all feedback is good (unless you are the bitch)!

The end (of term) is nigh

Today has been full of last dashes into town without children for all the things I have forgotten but the children are now too old for me to get away with the ‘don’t look’ or ‘this is honestly for somebody else’ tactics of yesteryear. I am unreasonably delighted to have managed to procure Christmas wrapping paper with owls on, something that will make the girl extremely happy, I am just happy that she has picked a must have theme that must be generally popular this year (that or we have a buyer in the area who also has a thing for owls), who knew, all things owl are the must have for Christmas 2014, seems a bit, well, random to me but that’s tweens (who am I kidding, that’s my children) by definition. So I can now relax in the knowledge that all the owl themed ‘stuff’ can be wrapped up in owls, how satisfying.

I also attended my first carol concert of the year. Now if I was really a good Mother I should have attended two concerts today, one for the boy in the morning and the evening one for the girl (roll on next year when they are both in the upper school). However, I just couldn’t quite bring myself to that level of giving for my children and as the girl was doing a reading she was the favoured child while the boy had a taste of attending two concerts in a day for once. He wasn’t amused in the slightest.

Last day of school is tomorrow however it ends rather prematurely at 1.15pm making getting anything done next to impossible. I am though going to make use of having the girl all to myself for the whole afternoon and evening (as it’s the boys day with their Dad), a rare thing indeed. I don’t know what we are going to do yet, she wants to subject me to the Annie remake but the fact that it doesn’t come out until the weekend grants me a reprieve and the knowledge that the boy will have to suffer with me when we do go. I must be thankful that when the time comes I shall not suffer alone. I quite like the idea of us heading over to the outdoor ice rink but the last time me wearing ice skates was on the cards the village took up a petition to stop the madness given my track record and lack of ‘good’ legs.

So the school holiday diary will start tomorrow afternoon with what ever kind of merry hell the girl and I can manage to raise. I really shouldn’t big this up as it will probably end up in tears. My tears. Either when I manage to find an even more creative way to break bones or can’t think of anything witty to say and the children fail to perform anything of interest. I have nightmares.

I intend to do an entry every day of the holidays. On the days that the children are not with me I will try to put some kind of fiction post out there although I think we will be skipping a week with ‘Mothering the Apocalypse’ as the next entry is ‘due’ right on Christmas day and I am unlikely to have time over the next week to get anything I am close the happy with out, I am finding writing a longer arc more, err, interesting and have to admit at this point I am not totally sure what triggered our end of the world so if you think you have an idea I would love to hear it (especially as it is probably better than the options I have in my notes just now!).

Untested waters

I have been thinking. I know, I know I really should take more care when it comes to extreme activities that hold a high risk of harm, I know my history isn’t great when it comes to doing damage to myself but what can I say but I have trouble with my reckless urges, so a thinking I have been.

I have been thinking of fiction, thinking that I could have some fun pushing the ‘what ifs’ of my reality. My reality can often time seem and feel like a work of fiction so why not have a go at pushing that boundary?

Now my writing muscles are weak and flabby so going full out fiction would likely lead to unreadable drivel of a high if not highest order, could even be legendary, but not for the reasons one would hope.

My middle ground is to write as myself, take a couple of events then let it run gently into fiction and hope that the resulting sludge is not a contender for either worst or most boring short ‘story’ of all eternity.

So at some point a go up will be this particular brand of fiction, I will mark it as such and I hope that it won’t be too terrible!