chocs away squadron leader

Easter is now upon us, and the inevitable pressure to go and 'enjoy' various Easter activities. Here is Oliver 'enjoying' his Easter egg hunt with the Beavers.

Actually, that's probably a little unfair, since this face was just to spite me for insisting he be in my photograph. In reality, he very much enjoyed this particular egg hunt. Those in the know had their cars waiting for them at the top of the mountainous climb - those not in the know (that will be me then) had to turn around and retrace our steps the twenty miles (at least) back to the car park at the bottom. By the time I climbed wearily into the car, I had backache, a bad temper and needed a big poo.

Poking about on blogs I have found this one, which has some chic cards and sexy blog candy:

What else....hmmm... Oliver decided a couple of weeks ago that he would ride his bike, and at last 'got it'. This has sparked a sudden interest in family activity and we have been out a few times for bike rides. It also sparked a sudden panic in buying a bloody bike, as neither Mark or I actually owned one. Mine is quite embarrassingly girly, but has a basket on the front which I am inordinately excited about. I feel very academic zipping around with my basket. Tres Oxford. Never mind it always has a bottle of manky squash, my phone, my camera and Oliver's discarded coat in it, the feeling of intellectual superiority prevails. Think we need to get Oliver a bike with gears as he has to get off and walk every time we hit a minor incline. I was startled to hear him talking about when 'we were bike riding in Holland'. Turns out he meant Haldon. (it's a nearby forest, for you non-locals). Ah bless.

This is the River Exe, incidentally, as Haldon forest does NOT have a river running through it.

In scrap world, I have decided to attend some of this years Scrapaholix retreat in nearby sunny Sidmouth, and to this end, I will be spending a lovely sunny (don't bank on it) Saturday at the Sidholme Hotel scrapping my little heart out with good company (surely) and good (hope so) food.

Scrapping achieved: this layout inspired by a challenge over on Indigo Mill. The challenge was to scrap the story of your name, but since mine is pretty dullsville, and the story behind it is non-existent, I have scrapped the story of Oliver's name. Marginally more exciting to me as I had some input there. In short, practically the night before he was born, (as prepared as ever) we cobbled together a list of names on a scrap of paper which we both found barely acceptable. These names were all girls names as I had it fixed in my mind I was going to have a girl. On the back of this scrap was one boys name - just in case. Oliver. You know the rest.

Other news: bashed out another hour of maths on Wednesday, and find that I get fractions, but decimals are a bit of a mystery to me, although they shouldn't be. I have asked Mark to help me with this, so I am looking forward to the look on his face when he wonders how I have got his far in life not really understanding 'to the power of ten' ha ha.

skipping down to Christmas

I am getting up early at the moment and heading straight off to scrap. It's working out quite well since the schools have broken up and so Oliver is occupied with playing with friends who would otherwise be unavailable. Monday was great - The Ten Commandments was on TV so I had 4 solid hours of biblical drama to spur me on in my Christmas mission....

Before I am judged too harshly on devoting (yet another) page to a TV programme, please remember my journal is actually more of a diary of what we have been up to this December, with our Christmas likes/traditions thrown in, so I make no apology for including our TV highlights to look back on in years to come. So there. Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough....lol

Today I am housebound, since Mark put unleaded petrol into the diesel van last night, and it broke down.

Jolly good.

Oh, and this weeks SLYMI:

This week was scrap the family. I picked this photo of me & Nan, taken by Mum (I think) down on the Quay over 30 years ago. It's changed alot since then.

sorry, it's a no-pic post

Would have to say in all honesty that the last couple of weeks have been a real crafting low spot. True, one of those weeks was spent abroad, having a nervous breakdown, but since back I have spent quite a few hours sat at my desk indulging in a spot of paper shuffling and watching DVDs. Talk about the Mojo desertion.... Anyhoo, this weeks SLYMI should be up, and now I have a total of 4 to catch up with (the most recent three and one I was never happy with which I want to re-do). Will keep you posted with my crafty outpourings. (did I ever outpour??)


The Tabba-Poppy saga continues, with Tabba turning up to gobble her food, hiss with menace at Poppy (ever-braver and going to get it in a minute) and then paw in desperation at the door to escape once more into the great outdoors. At night Poppy is shut away (in great comfort I might add) so Tabba can come in and sleep in peace as she always has, but Poppy meows with such feeling that Tabba hears her, and hisses at the dining room door on the way past. There is a wealth of meaning in that hiss. I imagine in cat language it may translate to: 'ha ha you're in that room all alone and I'm sleeping on the human's bed again. Hear my hiss O small and puny one and heed my bared teeth....' Or something along those lines.

I'll share a little holiday tale with you. Whilst semi-dozing under cerulean blue skies one morning last week, warm sand trickling through my fingertips, tension easing with every passing moment, the word 'Mum' came cutting through the MP3 player and the soothing whispers of Bryan Ferry with his rhythm of rhyming guitars. I squeezed open one eye to find Oliver, stood over me, naked complaining of sand in the end of his winky and holding said member in a very disgruntled fashion at virtually my eye level. Now that's a rude awakening if ever I had one....

Great excitement in Exeter tomorrow - Toys R Us opens. Does life get any better I ask myself.

Hello Poppy

Here is Poppy, our new kitten. She is very adorable, affectionate and a real time-bandit. Tabba hates her and has growled and hissed with such evilness that I shut Poppy away overnight, to prevent her having her throat ripped out while we sleep. Hopefully Tab will get used to her.....

Seemingly, Susan Boyle (aka SuBo - dontcha just hate that?) is releasing a track which is a cover of a Stones tune - Wild Horses. Never heard of it, but a tune in on this link seems like it's a pretty nice song....

For those charting my mental progress, I have booked a Doc appointment and should be spilling my guts to her unfortunate ears next week lol.

what is WRONG with me???? (it's a rhetoric question)

Well, back this morning from a week in Menorca, and I have never been so glad to get home. It was a very lovely place, lovely scenery around the hotel and on top of a gorgeous sandy beach with clear, shallow waters, Mark and Oliver were (as always) lovely to be with and yet all the time, my anxiety levels rise and rise until I think I am going to either a) have a panic attack or b) collapse in floods of tears until I feel better. I have been like this since my first holiday abroad in July 1988. I hated it and wept loads until I came home. The only holidays I have had when I didn't feel on the verge of a nervous breakdown have been ones where I have stayed in proper 'homes' and been part of 'normal life'.

Poor Mark and Oliver. I am so wrapped up in the panic and anxiety of not enjoying my holiday, that I ineveitably end up miserable and ruining things for them. Hopefully Oliver is too young to realise that his mother is a nutter, and Mark deserves better. Since I have endured these horrible feelings for so long whilst on holiday, enough is enough. I am going to the Docs and I am asking her to get me in to see a counsellor. Surely being this loopy on holiday qualifies for some sort of help..... think my problems are a control issue anyway, I feel better at home, in control of my little world.....

Anyway, now 2 weeks behind with SLYMI so will chill over that, and meanwhile, here are some pics from my holiday, which had it's little highs despite all my unwitting attempts to sabotage my own happiness....

and the summerless summer continues....

Today dawned bright and cloudy as per, so I took Oliver off to A La Ronde, a National Trust place nearby, which we have never visited, and which was laying on craft activities today. He enjoyed the craft and then we had a poke around the house, which I found quirkily charming and pretty darned amazing, actually. Oliver enjoyed it enough for a second whirl around, and I think I would like to go back alone for a serious 'look' at stuff myself, rather than the whistle-stop glances I have had to restrict myself to since the advent of motherhood.

I like to stand in rooms at these places, preferably (not often) alone and feel it all soaking in - like I really lived there. If you know what I mean. I recall a chateau in Brittany a few years back, Trevarez I think it was called, where I kept walking backwards and forwards across the wooden-floored ballroom and glancing out of the gi-normous windows across the gi-normous gardens and imagining myself as some 19th century countess in a gi-normous bejewelled gown.... of course this reverie was continually broken by the (step)kids moaning about something or other so I never fully captured the experience.

Took this pic of Oliver in one of the rooms - naughty me, photography is a treasonable offence at the NT props - I heard one of the 'volunteers' (aka former SS officers) coming down the passageway as I was snapping away and nearly threw myself into the nearest cupboard in terror. They had dressing up clothes there today, and Oliver, donning a top hat turned instantly into the Artful Dodger and started walking around like a pearly king, now what's all that about??

This week's SLYMI was actually completed on the afternoon it was set, (last Thurs) which is almost unheard of, but it is so not my style, ('scrap a square within a square), and I so feel I have ruined a lovely photo that I haven't felt in the mood to blog it all week. Still, here it is, and think I may just doodle around some of it in black to satisfy my need to scruff this pastel neatness up a bit....

Anyway, that's all for now. Oliver is badgering me to play Monopoly for the fourth time this week. He seems to have mastered the art of quickly advancing from the purchase of top-priced properties to bankrupting me within a few circuits of the board. He is so like his father. And when did the shift happen between letting your kids think they have beaten you fair and square - and your kids beating you fair and square despite your best and meanest efforts to win?

It surely is the beginning of the end.

my family and other animals

Had a lovely little trip out yesterday with Kim and Vanessa to the Otter and Butterfly Sanctuary. Made more exciting for me because I finally managed to locate the macro setting on Mark's camera and got some nice snaps:

Today I made a quorn and mushroom pie for tea and as I was finishing it off, Mark came home and annoyed me. So I wrote 'twat' in pastry letters on the top of his pie. That'll show him I'm not to be trifled with.

Went to the allotment where I walked into a spider's web and screamed so loudly, the man digging spuds on the next allotment called over to see if I was OK. Felt a bit embarrassed to be honest. I keep telling Oliver that spiders are good, and helpful to our fragile ecology, but my screams of terror and shudders of revulsion whenever I happen upon them must confuse the poor boy. I quote from Lawrence Llewelyn-Bowen: 'that's the trouble with the outdoors, it's so full of nature'. I have to agree.

SLYMI this week:

Write in white. I had it all planned out - the journalling was going to be all curly and stylish, and sit beautifully at the bottom right of the photos, thereby balancing the title at the top. However, my crappy white pen refused to co-operate with my artistic flow, so I had to have a re-think amongst two days of sulking and scowling at it. Not quite what I had in mind, but fairly happy with the outcome.

Tomorrow morning at the crack of a sparrow's fart, Oliver and I are off to the back of beyond (well, out past Tiverton way) to look at a kitten. Apparently they have a couple of fluffy females and a tabby short-haired male. I am inclined to go for the boy, since think this will work better with Tabba, but Oliver will get the choice, so I hope all works out well. They are not ready yet, and we will have one in early September. Aaahhhhh. Hopefully they will let me take a photo or two....

eye eye

Sunday was a lovely day this week - compared to last Sunday which was vile, (where we managed a row before 10.30am thereby spoiling the whole day for ourselves.)

We went to Beer for brekkie, which we do alot throughout the summer, and there I found, very weirdly, my old school mate Vanessa lounging by a beach hut on a deckchair. This is made weird by the fact that I have seen her only a handful of times in the last 20 years, and then twice in the last couple of months. I don't think I could have been more surprised if the Queen had strolled by.... anyhoo, after a lovely veggie brek (including tea and toast with marmalade) Mark and Oliver bimbled off for some (much loathed by me) rock pooling and I bullied Vanessa into walking the cliff path with me. It was very pleasant and convivial to walk along putting the world to rights. After that we returned home, I had a burst on the old cross trainer (yes, I still do use it!!) and then did THIS:

Ta DAH! I feel a real sense of achievement having done this, not so much because it looks better and we now have a system (?!) for sorting 'stuff', but because I actually said I would do something - and did it. I am a bit crap for spouting off about doing things and then not.... That grouting looks very noticeable now though.....

Had a sore eye yesterday - for those who don't know, I suffer a bit of dry-eye syndrome which sometimes can lead to corneal abrasion - very, very painful although a thankfully very, very short-lived spell. Nevertheless, when there is soreness, or abrasion - the whole day is pretty much a total waste of time, since blinking causes massive discomfort and/or pain and in truth, although it goes against the grain, you literally just wish you could sleep until the next day when you know the pain will be gone. The eye is very fast healing which is a constant source of amazement to me. Want to give Oliver a better day today - he was very sweet to me yesterday and sat with me to watch a film (with one eye for me) and then later he read me a story. So sweet because he would never normally voluntarily read anything.... That's a real downside to home-teaching - if I'm off-par, it so impacts on him.

To add to my discomfort yesterday, I had notification of my final children's tax credit award. Now, I use the term 'award' loosely here, since it appears that I will be getting sweet F A for the rest of this tax year, the next one and possibly half of the one after that. Since they were giving me around £200 per month, you can understand that I stopped breathing momentarily. I even telephoned to check this horrific fact, and was informed that this was, indeed the case. This information, delivered cheerfully in a lilting welsh accent did not seem as terrifying as when I had to repeat it to Mark later on. I am going to have to write down all my outgoings including my sodding debt which I have carelessly dropped myself into, and go through it with him. This is not a prospect I am relishing, but I think it will be good for me in a not nice way to start with....

And finally, think I will re-participate in the Art Raffle, which I have not done for months, but feel it would be good for me in order to be more creatively productive.

bit of a weird week...

Since my last post, Beaky died in the night which was horrid, I had a big row with my supervisor at work, which left me feeling horrid and I had my 41st birthday - which was very lovely all round.

Oliver's evident joy at bursting into our room at early o'clock with sleep encrusted eyes and bearing a carrier bag of gifts is something I will remember for a long time - bless. I had lovely things from him (graciously paid for by Mark) - a 4-pack romcom dvd set, fab red/black sock quartet, wine (always pathetically gratefully received), Tana Ramsay cookbook (more liked now her husband is now obviously a complete shit) and two lacy camisole top-ettes. In a size 12 - more bless, because they were too small so all hail to Mark for imagining I may be a size 12 at the moment. Kim (sister-in-law) and Vanessa (niece) came over in the morning bearing more gifts (lovely lovely lovely) - a very pretty plant in a very pretty pot, a puzzle book and some very well-chosen chick lits. I keep them on the sofa next to me in the evenings and stroke them periodically. I can't decide whether or not to read them greedily now, or save them for my hols in a couple of months. I had hard currency from Mark and my mother-in-law, so got to spend that on beads and scrapbooking. Sigh with pleasure.....

In the afternoon, the three of us went to the pics to see Night At The Museum 2, more fab because it was so quiet in there and then we went to Bella Italia for grub. Then on to the parents to receive more gifts! How good does it get?!! Both brothers bought me wine - get in there..

Today I went to the Exeter Scrapaholix crop - managed two layouts - really, I think that's my daily limit:

In the evening Mark and I watched more of the series Psych - if you've never seen it - it's worth a go - slightly off the wall, funny in a good American way and there seem to be lots of episodes. Bonus.

Last but not least - or, actually this is least is a way - I have now lost 10 lbs on the Rosemary Conley diet. Got to hand it to the woman, her 'diet' is the most common sense and easiest to stay on I have ever experienced.

I have had a rough-sounding throat since last Wednesday, which has been quite good, because I've sounded really ill, but felt fine (great for the sympathy vote) and from Friday onwards I started losing my voice (more sympathy) but by Sunday night I was starting to find my breathing felt not so fine and then I kept waking up in the night fearing my lungs would collapse and/or my throat would just close, there would be no time to save me and I would just die instantly.

There is no doubt about it - I am a bona fide Drama Queen, but in the dead of night thoughts that by day are fleeting and laughable suddenly become a realistic foregone conclusion and a spiral of self-induced terror begins. By 8am I was at A&E explaining my fear of imminent death by breathlessness. I was embarrassed to note my low, healthy pulse rate and blood pressure, but they were very kind to me, and assured me that I was not going to die ('well, not of this anyway') and sent me on my way with a diagnosis of sore and slightly swollen throat.

When I got home I felt very sulky at Mark (he is a bit crap at giving me any sympathy) so did not give him the exact diagnosis (for fear of sneering) and told him I had a raw throat and inflamed windpipe. Feel fully vindicated - this is only a tiny exaggeration and I was scared......

Have scrapped this photo of Finlay for the weekly SLYMI:

Last week I was invited to spend the afternoon with my niece Daisy, being a 'special person' at her school. This was a surprise as I was quite sure she didn't like me at all - but in truth I think I was not top of her special list anyway - the other, infinitely more desirable candidates, were unavailable. As a result, I found myself standing in the school reception with hundreds (30) other 'special' relations dragged out for the occasion and feeling quite sick with nerves at the reception I would get from Daisy - she was just as likely to ignore me totally as give me a warm welcome - it could go either way.

As it happened, she had decided to play her part perfectly and was very sweet and lively. She seems to have a very good teacher and I was impressed with the school.

This is not a drawing of me by the way - this is her 'Scary Teeth' drawing. I have to agree. I would be very afraid if I had teeth like this.

After this I had arranged to meet my old school chum in town, which I was really looking forward to. She has not changed and made me cackle with laughter just as she did when we were at school - lovely to spend time with her. You'd expect people to be different after 25 years - but it is so easy to slip back into the personality of carefree schoolgirl.....

A little (too much) of what you fancy

Spent the weekend in Mullion (Cornwall for those not local) in a caravan on a Sun Break (cheapo quick breaks for those not scabby tightarses ha ha). I swear that I will have to turn to valium soon in order to enjoy these breaks - and I use the term 'breaks' loosely - as by the time I have slung the entire contents of our wardrobes, kitchen cupboards and bedlinen into holdalls, bundled the cat off to cat prison and made lunch to eat in the car on the way, I am a so highly strung out I am humming.

Oliver normally asks for his lunch before we have made it three streets away and complaining of tummy ache and boredom by the time we reach the outskirts of Exeter. I try with good grace to be patient with him, but I am not known for my patience and I am usually gibbering with rage by the time we arrive. Don't even get me started on checking into THE one caravan/chalet you see on the way in and pray it isn't yours, under-heated swimming pools, unpacking and making up beds in the tiniest spaces in the known universe. I only unwind when Oliver is sated by 'holidaying' and I am on the first wine of the evening. Mark is very good on these occasions - he tolerates my nuttiness with disbelief and raised eyebrows and I usually end up laughing at myself.

After three nights I had drunk three bottles of wine and consumed my own bodyweight in cheese. I spent last night feeling extremely unwell as a result, vowing to return to the (not very) comforting bosom of Rosemary Conley and giving up alcohol. (well, cutting back big style anyway).

We visited a National Trust place over the weekend - only as an 'on the way back' sort of stop and we were glad we did - Godolphin was one of the loveliest places we have been to. Not because of grandeur or wealth, but because it was set in woodland and oozed history - it was very, very pretty - no interior to speak of as it is being restored, but it was all just so serene and nice.

Scrapping - got some blog candy from this blog last week and today I used some of it to make this layout for the weekly SLYMI - thanks Sarah!

This layout 'Terms of Endearment' shows the loving words we use when talking to Oliver. Clearly not words used in the car on the way to Cornwall then......

bits and bobs

weeellll, I finished Katie's jewellery -

Apparently she was very pleased with it but wasn't convinced I had actually made them myself. I take this as a compliment but advised that she would quite happily believe that I had made them when the bits start falling off.

What else....Oliver had his Judo weekend and found it all a bit long and tiring I think. He is so slight and easily worn out, bless.

Have been a bit sulky with the scrapping this week - last week's SLYMI was to 'scrap in the morning' which pissed me off somewhat, since the morning is not really an option for me to sidle off and indulge my need to fiddle with paper. So I spent the week sulking. Like a spoilt brat because the challenge didn't suit me. Really, you'd think Shimelle would give me a little more personal consideration.

This week's is a nice one, so have nearly finished a layout there. I will do the 'morning' challenge at my crop which I haven't been able to attend since December. (more sulking).

We celebrated our 10th - that's tenth wedding anniversary this week, which is a pretty amazing thing taking into account that it is a second marriage for the both of us, and it has not been a smooth path steering through sullen stepchildren and vengeful exes.

Anyway - Mark bought me these lovely flowers:

And we went out for a meal in Princesshay - La Strada. Where I got right ripped off for a measly 'glass' (note the inverted commas there) of Prosecco. I will be complaining in the strongest terms.

C'est tout.