I really just need to shut up sometimes and not make flippant jokes.

Had fun at the eye hospital today.

Remember how I made jokes about soldering irons to the eyes? Well about that…

Turns out that while my body lets me down daily every way it can think of (I realise I should probably write about this given many wont know how broken I am!) and in the most original, rare and imaginative ways but when it comes to tear ducts I am blooming Wolverine. Very typical, very me and utterly unsurprising at this point.

Even without the X-man magic leading to my previously cauterised lower tear ducts reopening I was once more headed toward the hellish regions of more eye surgery. We only found out about my powers of healing (but only when healing is the one thing not desired) while poking around in my eyes to put teeny tiny plastic bath plugs in my upper tear ducts as an interim measure while I waited to have those cauterised. So the plans changed. He stuck the bath plugs in my ‘reopened under new management’ lower tear ducts instead, taking great delight in informing me that not only had they reopened but they where now bigger than they had been previously, he then proved his point by squirting saline solution down the back of my throat via my eye an experience I am sad to report is not a new one but one I will never, ever, get used to. So now I wait for a date for round two of soldering the lower ducts closed and my upper ones can be a special gift for Christmas 2015. I also have a whole new collection of eye drops, one of which I was gleefully informed is ‘even more gooey’.


Last time I sported my two black eyes for three weeks so by quickly utilising my astounding A level maths skills that will be 6 wonderful weeks or 11.4% of this year spent looking like an aged balding panda and it also means that I will have to keep still while a soldering iron is pressed into my eye at least 4 times, possibly (like last time) by somebody who has never done it before. I will also be reminded what burning flesh smells like (spoiler: unpleasant) on two separate occasions. I have so very much to look forward to this year. My year. My year.


Pictured: My year as a cautionary tale.

I’m not finished whining yet about todays tails of woe and karmic red letters pointing out the folly of making light of things.

The next hit was in the form of text message while I sorted the children out for bed. Yes, bed. THE beds. The ones we weren’t talking about, most defiantly weren’t thinking about and had foolishly bargained to at least have one week of term before I had to deal with. I should have known really. When I had to turn the pre christmas delivery down they only let me in on their exiting plans the day before so why on earth I was surprised to get a text this evening informing me that the beds would be delivered tomorrow afternoon is beyond me. I can’t tell them not to deliver again but I am also no nearer being ready so I am going to have to deal with living in a flat pack warehouse as I somehow manage to dispose of a set of bunk beds, a metal frame double bed, a huge wardrobe thing (the open type thankfully, small mercies and all that, no doors.), a chest of draws, one single mattress and one double mattress. In a 3 door Corsa called Bob. Can he do it? Don’t be bloody daft.

To complete the holy trinity of things I have written about and clearly jinxed myself about for ever more the girl has swimming in the morning and if you think I am as organised enough to have her swim kit all in one place post Christmas holidays then you haven’t been reading.

I did today while at the hospital however happen to hear one of the best names I have ever had the pleasure of coming across. Congratulations to Penelope Gotobed. You win big… although I appreciate that childhood was most likely painful and you are probably on the brink of jail time if one more person makes one more joke…


School night

Day 17

Sorry. skipped a day. I did it just to keep you on your toes or because I took a last moment holiday, got bored of relaxing in the warm winter sun and came back after only 24 hours or because I had spent the day mainly in mud and was tired. You choose.

Back to school tomorrow. Am I ready? Well, I may just flee the country abandoning the children to the care of the first pack of wolves I can find (a slightly grumpy dog would do) just to get a moment of peace if they didn’t go back to school tomorrow so in that sense, yes, so ready for them to go back but am I ready as in school bags located and packed, everything labeled and P.E kits replenished then no, don’t be silly, of cause I am not.

The children seem in a similar state of high excitement about returning to school. It seems they share my feelings about enforced long periods of ‘togetherness’. The girl was jumping around the place in glee about the promise of school and the boy was just as joyful about giving his new pencil case it’s first run. He was a little more reserved about leaving his baby though. The much anticipated Furby that landed on Christmas day has had the boy fretful each time he leaves it in my ‘care’. He checks I know all the details of the care it required before he goes anywhere, the last thing he is thinking of as we say our goodbyes is that I know how to get it off to sleep and will feed it. He even refers to me as its Grandma. As a result I spent well over an hour last night tending to every whim it had as well as keeping it fed and bathed. Not quite sure how this gels with my New Years promise to be more social in my childless time.


Pictured: Uncanny family resemblance

I am going to have to hit the Doctor up for a loan of the Tardis if I am to have a hope to do all the things I have in mind to get done tomorrow. My list just keeps getting longer every time I think of a task that has either been halted or put off due to the children being off school and the new beds, lord, don’t want to think of the beds.


Pictured: Not thinking about beds.

A day off…

Day 4

The children have completely failed me today in their one task to be interesting so I can write about them. Typical. We have to be fair had a day off having to be someplace else and it was bliss.

We would have stayed in our pyjamas all day had it not got to lunch time when I discovered we had no bread in, well thats not quite true, I had a total of 4 slices of bread and two of them where crusts. Getting everyone washed, dressed and out to the shop was preferable to brokering a deal on that one, my part time role as hostage negotiator and US (United Sibling) peace keeper has gone way over hours and getting overtime paid is impossible in the current climate.

Our next job of the day was to try and tidy up the house ready to try and cut down the risk of Father Christmas filing another claim for workers compensation. I sent the children up to tidy their rooms while I dove into the mountain range of dirty laundry but they hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes before the girl was calling down with pleas for rescue from all the clothes that had fallen on her when she opened her wardrobe and the boy was howling on the stairs about the girl doing something or other to him, it wasn’t clear, it is hard enough to understand him through his speech disorder at the best of times but when the emotional dam has been breached a lexicon of linguists couldn’t draw head nor tale from him. In cases such as this I can’t really do anything as the girls only crime may have been existing while in his line of sight so I was left with the distraction method of ‘Look boy! Clean clothes for you to sort!’ always a winner.

Once I had rescued the girl from her avalanche I changed all the sheets, always an interesting task with the boy, he keeps everything he finds and considers precious in his bed with him so sheet changes can bring fascinating archaeological finds from rocks and twigs to collectors edition book collections to large wooden cat statues. This time was slightly disappointing and only yielded two Minecraft books, a small collection of lego bricks and one slipper that belonged to the girl three years ago that hasn’t been seen since… until today anyway.

With the bedrooms as good as they where going to get we headed down to do something about the living room while I brooded on the fact that the new beds will be here in a matter of weeks and there is a huge amount of work to be done to prepare and old furniture to somehow get rid of. I have pushed that problem into ‘Lala I’m not listening’ land for just now because the whole thing is getting a little too close for comfort now but there is nothing much I can do for the next week or so.

The house is now in a half way reasonable state, enough to ward of Santa’s little personal injury lawyers at any rate and we have made it through another day without any of the gifts already under the tree ‘accidentally’ having the wrapping paper ‘fall off’ so that is good enough for me. I managed to have a sneaky ‘I’m just tidying’ sort out of the lego and checked the Playstation is all up to date and ready to go without giving anything away to the boy. The outfit I bought for the girl has a seal of approval, not an easy thing given her tastes change with the wind and something she begged for on one day is something she wouldn’t be seen dead in the next. The top I had bought did not pass her inspection sadly but she found a plain black t-shirt in her avalanche field to substitute for the lovely bright one I had picked so her Christmas day outfit is rescued. I wish she was an easily pleased as the boy for whom I just got something with a computer game character on and thought no more of it.

IMG_0149 IMG_0150

A heard of horses meets a horde of children tomorrow at the riding school Christmas pony day and party. I don’t really need to give any more of a teaser than that really, see you on the other side!

Story hour

Last week I placed the order for fancy new beds for the boy and girl. For the boy there is desk, wardrobe and draws under a high sleeper with a wood finish and the girl has wardrobe, desk, draws and a pull out guest bed under her high sleeper with a shiny red and black finish, very grown up for the up and coming tween. The evening I planed to order them a notice was on the website that orders for delivery before Christmas must be made before 9pm that evening.

No way on earth can I imagine trying to deal with Christmas and taking down and somehow disposing of not just the old beds but the old draws and wardrobe and neither do I have space to store the new beds even in the flat pack state, add to that the people who I plan to ask for help (who don’t yet know that I plan to ask them… some may now!) are not likely to want to fill their pre-christmas days with such a task.

Quite relieved I had seen this notice I closed down the website and went back the following morning when the deadline had safely been and gone. I made the order, paled at the cost, remembered that the beds are a gift from family so went back to excitement for the January delivery window.

I emailed the company shortly after I placed my order to confirm that the girl was having the snazzy red and black finish as the conformation email was a little unclear and made a comment that I would not be wanting the beds before January and I bet that made a change for them at this time of year.

And on I went until this morning when I received a text message from somebody from the bed company saying they where planning on delivering my order tomorrow and would that me okay? I shot the most informal of texts back that simply wailed ‘But I wasn’t expecting them until January!!!’. I am utterly ashamed I used multiple explanation marks but really I was very shocked and at that point verging on panic trying to think where on earth I could store all those flat pack boxes along with the mattresses but really there is no excuse for excessive punctuation.

I got a reply saying they would speak to their manager and feeling a little more secure that I would not arrive home tomorrow (as I wouldn’t even be home to accept the delivery with only a days notice) with enough boxes to start my own Ikea store stacked on the front path I got on with the day.

Later on another text arrived asking if I wanted the beds tomorrow or not. I realised that my initial response while heavy on exclamation had been rather light on explanation. I think my reply was probably rather short and rude but given the situation I don’t think it was uncalled for, it probably doesn’t help that text message doesn’t really feel like the best way to communicate with clients especially if there seems to be a problem. I could just be a dinosaur in that I am not completely sure. I simply explained what I have here that missing the Christmas deadline had been an intentional act. I can’t really complain too much given that they have probably had many people order just after the deadline and then beg them for a pre christmas delivery. They probably thought they where being helpful although that does kind of fall apart given I also told them by email I was after a January delivery. I also need to keep in mind they are running a business and once items are sold they want them out of their warehouse to make room for more product to sell. It just goes to show companies can’t win. This is a fairly small company and I chose them partly because of that, they are in the UK, they make the beds in the UK and they are not a huge corporate entity. They also make beds I really like as did the boy and girl. You can’t knock a company too hard for attempting to get a product you have already paid for to you as quickly as possible. You just can’t please some people!

So there you are, boring story of the week. I am not really in a cheery or funny frame of mind just now so writing in my normal style just isn’t working. It has been a dreadfully sad 10 days or so. The husband of the lady I mentioned in an earlier post died Saturday before last after having been diagnosed with cancer a matter of weeks ago. I will be attending his service on Friday. Then on Sunday just gone the much loved husband of another friend, a friend who may at times read this blog, passed away a little over a year since his diagnosis. He will be hugely missed and leave a massive hole within the village. Both deaths together leave a chasm.

My thoughts are with both families, I wish there was something I could do that could help. To both I offer my ear to listen for as long as they need even if that is always. I know from the losses in my own life that an ear to listen, often without saying a word, is one of the best and only things that can be offered.