Summertime ... and the weather is ... well , pretty awful really

I took my youngest to a sailing club this morning. For a sizeable amount of money, paid to the outdoorsy looking teen manning the reception desk, he was allowed to change into a rather shabby looking wetsuit about 2 sizes too small and toddled off to be dunked in a grey reservoir for the rest of the day.

Actually , he's attending something called Water Fun ( or Water Hell in my book) which runs for the whole week and introduces your offspring to the delights of kayaking, windsurfing, knee boarding and sailing .. like I said ... Water Hell.

I wished I could embrace the whole sailing fraternity thing. For a moment I thought I could. We turned off a grubby road, aptly called the Staines Bypass, into a narrow tree lined lane and entered the sailing club gates where a large spikey ramp thing prevented us from going any further , ostensibly to prevent fly-tippers and graffiti hooligans from plying their trade. Once we'd convinced them of our credentials we were allowed in and asked to take the right hand fork and proceed to the car park. After climbing 66 steps ( I know this because I counted every one , somewhat breathlessly by the time I'd reached fifty something) we ascended into a little bit if suburban heaven.

A large expanse of glistening water greeted us accompanied by the clanking of those sail mast thingies and the swooping of gulls, all lending to the illusion of being beside the sea. If you closed your eyes and breathed deeply , I swear I could almost smell salt on the breeze or maybe it was just the chips they'd be serving at lunchtime.

Most of the children there were sun kissed and fresh air types - a good sign. Excellent decision I thought , all the benefits of healthy exercise and team building stuff and I don't even have to dip my toe in the water . Perfect. Here were in the suburbs of London and I could almost believe we were salty sea dogs, hoisting the mainsail and all the that palaver. A little bit of maritime heaven.

I turned to descend the 66 steps and as I did so , I left behind my vision of seaside loveliness. A police siren wailed from the road below and the 24 hour Tescos loomed out of the grey mist . Back to reality.

And as for my scrapbook pages this summer , rather than the 'Fun in the Sun' variety I think they're more likely to be 'Rain is a Pain' . Having said that I can always look back on last years and remind myself what proper sunshine looked like.

Gadget Junkie

I can't help myself . Never show me a new gadget ... chances are I'll want to buy it. I bought this little toy at the weekend from Calico Crafts - it's a glue dot dispenser and works a treat . Pricey at £13.99 but very economical with it's refills - 500 dots for £2.99 which I reckon will save me a fortune on Herma - well that's what I told myself to justify it's expense.
Anyway - used it all weekend and I love it. Now if only they'd make it in pink !

What's Your Style ?

I remember reading any book I could get my hands on when I first started scrapbooking. I didn't know where to go to find good sources of inspiration - everything was new ... don't think I'd even discovered UK Scrappers back then ( how on earth did I spend my time ??). One of these books divided scrappers into certain 'styles' , like Shabby Chic , Vintage, Clean Graphic and the like. I tried to pigeon hole my style but found I couldn't . One day I might be using messy paint, the next I'd be using grids of photos like Cathy Zielske. And 3 years later , I still can't define my style which I think is a good thing. However, one thing's for sure.. I'm not a mad fan of Vintage, hate purple and prefer to make my own embellishments. I've also realised that I have a favourite palette of colours - think Farrow and Ball meets Conran ... or at least that's what I'd like to think. There's always a neutral shade or 2 coupled with a bright vibrant colour. There's usually a bit of fabric and maybe a spot of stitching and usually a little cluster of happy little items. This one above sums it up I suppose. Mind you tomorrow's layout will probably be completely different.

I never really know how a layout is going to turn out when I start . It all depends on how the mood takes me. Sometimes it even depends on what music I'm listening to or what the weather's like. One thing will always be consistent though. The photos is the main driver , the story is equally as important although you might not always be able to read it without delving and it has to make me happy . I reckon those 3 things define my style. Now all I have to do is think of a name to define it. Maybe I could just call it 'Happy' .

Fabric

... can't get enough of it. I almost love it as much as paper and that's saying something.
Used some canvas on this layout which was for a challenge set by Craftystash Workshop which was supposed to have been last weekend but was sadly cancelled - get well soon Tracie. Got the old sewing machine out of mothballs also. Reckon if I left it out , I'd sew on every layout. Sewed some journalling lines - might try this again soon as I really liked how it turned out.

Birthday Boy

My baby is 10 today. Double figures - how daunting.
True to form , when asked how he'd like to spend it he said he didn't mind so long as it was with his family.
Present opening in bed, pancakes for breakfast, a quick trip to Thorpe Park ( thank goodness for annual passes ) and home for tea and birthday cake. Perfect ... apart from having to queue for half an hour to be turned upside down in something called Zodiac. I think today must have been 'Get in free to Thorpe Park' day or maybe they were just handing out free tenners on the door. Anyway it felt like the entire world was there besides us , hence the queues. And here was me thinking that most school hadn't broken up for Sumer yet or maybe just 2 million kids decided to play truant on the same day.

Things My Children Have Taught Me

I may be getting on but I'm still able to learn something new every day , this old dog can indeed be taught new tricks.

My children are a constant source of amazement to me. I adore the way they see things in an uncomplicated way without the jaundice that comes with advancing age. It's too easy to be cynical these days, trying to find the positive side is so much harder but worth the effort.

Here are 3 random things I've observed in the last 24 hours alone...

* Simple Pleasures - a bowl of popcorn can bring squeals of delight
* Anticipation - remembering that it's your birthday in 13 days time and better still your party at the weekend can produce an ear splitting grin
* Finding Time - to stroke the cat and tell her that you love her

Today therefore , I'm going to make myself some popcorn, count up the days til my birthday and stroke the cat and tell her to get off the bed and stop leaving hairs everywhere ... then I'll tell her that I also love her.

Teeth

I've been seeing rather a lot of a dashing young doctor in London for the last 2 years. Sadly for no better reason that he is my youngest son's orthodontist. Actually I'm not that fond of him at all ( the man that is not my son of whom I'm very fond ) , although he seems like a nice enough bloke. I always get a telling off for not making sure that my son wear his brace 24/7. As I can't actually be with my son 24/7 on school days , I have to rely on his sense of responsibility for keeping it in , which at 9 years is a tall order.

Two years ago my husband dispatched my son down one of those wretched flume rides at a swimming pool. He emerged seconds later from the other end minus his brand new front tooth. The water turned red and the lifeguard passed out. My husband phoned me to say everything was alright, which turned out to be a complete lie as he then went on to ask what he should do having told me what had happened. Ever since then we have paid monthly visits to the Eastman Dental Hospital in London for extensive remedial treatment. Although this is free in terms of it being NHS , it still costs an arm and a leg getting there and back.

Today we're going to take in the Bank of England Museum en route where, apparently, you can pick up a real gold bar to see how much it weighs. If it doesn't weigh that much I plan to do a runner with said gold bar to fund our mounting expenses in which case you may read about it in tomorrow's papers.

Bumper Stash boxes for sale over on UK SCrappers if any scrappers are interested. Listed in the Marketplac here

here's a pic of a representative sample. Can't guarantee you'll get all or any of these particular items as this box may already have been sold but it will be similar and the original value will be between £30 - £40.

Kids

I have 3 children . Two of them are aged 9 and 14 . The other one is 49 , soon to be 50.
I remember seeing a bib in Mothercare once that read " I don't know what I want , but I want it now". I wonder of they do it in grown up sizes ?
My husband bought himself a Manopause car earlier this year. Guess what ? It didn't make him happy but then at the moment , I don't know what would. If I'd known that his mid life crisis was going to be classic textbook then I'd probably have got my money's worth out of my own menopause. Sadly though I didn't do any of the ranting or raving or tantrums that you read about in women's magazines. I have been known to say " Is it me or is it hot in here" but that was about it. HIndsight is a wonderful thing.

Comments

Apologies to anyone who may have left a comment on here and wondered why it hadn't appeared. When I logged on tonight , there waiting for me was a list of something called unmoderated comment. All kinds of lovely people had left all kinds of lovely comments and there they all were , all lined up and waiting to be 'moderated' by me.

They were all perfectly nice comments and didn't appear to require any form of 'moderation' at all . It all sounded terribly Big Brotherish. Anyway ... consider yourselves all duly moderated now. There's obviously a whole etiquette to this blogging malarkey of which , until now , I've been blissfully unaware. I'm still struggling with a whole new Facebook vocabulary ( although I quite like the sound of poking whatever that is) so it may be some time before I conquer the art of bog etiquette.

In the meantime, keep leaving the comments. It's lovely to think than in some small way my little blog is leaving some kind of impression out there in cyberspace. And could someone please enlighten me as to how you can 'poke' someone on Facebook and more importantly why you'd want to ?

The Joys of Half Term

By all accounts therefore this should be a short piece.

Actually I do really like these short school holidays , mostly because we get a week off the mayhem that is a schoolday morning.

Instructions such as ... Don't forget your breaktime snack .... don't forget to brush your teeth..... Don't forget to pack your homework ..... Tuck your shirt in , have become abbreviated to SNACK, TEETH, HOMEWORK, SHIRT - this last one said with a world weary sigh of exasperation that only comes with having repeated the same instruction over many years to no effect.

On the first day of the half term, the phone will inevitably ring and the caller will be told that Mum can't come to the phone as she's still in bed. By the second day the X box has usually overheated through constant use. Day three comes the guilt , I really should take them somewhere educational, inspiring, uplifting or all three. On day four a meticulously planned day out up in town is executed involving trains, tubes, snacks , searches for toilets, a London attraction or two, more snacks followed by exhaustion and a fractious train ride home. Vast amounts of cash will have been handed over in the pursuit of 'Having a Good Time'.

Sometimes we do actually have a good time. Yesterday was a classic case ... managed to park next to the station, didn't have to wait too long for a train, navigated our way effortlessly to Leicester Square ( my attempts at the educational element - teaching the bots how to read a tube map fell on deaf ears) , found comic book heaven in a shop called Orbital a minutes walk from the tube, dined at Inamo - a wonderfully hi-tech eatery in Wardour Street with interactive tables ( thanks for the recommendation Mary Anne) and took in China Town on the way home including the wonderfully tacky China Town market - a haven for lovers of kitsch ( that includes me) and then home. Not a cross word was exchanged and we didn't lose youngest son's brace for a change.

Friday is usually a chance to re-group ie. spend nothing for at least 24 hours and allow the bank balance to get over the shock. Then comes the weekend usually spent locating lost items of sports kit, and wondering how to fill the next 48 hours on a tight budget. The children start becoming a little fractious - fed up with eachother and me and counting down the remaining hours of freedom.

School holidays aren't cheap but you can still have fun without financial pain - this afternoon's trip is a bike ride to the Woodland Gardens , a pack of home-made Chocolate Brownies and a shady spot to finish my book before our Book Group meets again on Tuesday. The boys, in theory will spend many happy hours splashing through the streams and climbing trees. The reality is that someone needs the toilet for a pooh ( no WCs at the Woodland Gardens) and there will be an injury of some description with no plasters to hand. However at least it won't have cost an arm and a leg , maybe just an injured arm.

I used to get £50 from the shiny money machine in the wall where the boys used to think you got money for free, at times , I think they still do. This used to last a few days. Now it only seems to last a few hours. As the old saying goes ... Money Talks ... Mine says Goodbye.

The moral of the tale ? Marry someone rich.
Only joking , what I really meant was marry someone VERY rich.

Eye Candy

These beauties arrived today . They're business cards from a company called MOO and they're free ! The marketing ploy worked, I'll certainly be ordering some more.


And then these turned up ... all the way from Singapore. Now I know I could buy some crochet hooks and all different colours of wool and a book about how to crochet but then where would I put it all , where would I find the time and it would cost a whole heap more than the few dollars these cost and these ones actually look like flowers whereas mine would no doubt turn out like knotted clumps. Mind you they're WAY too nice to use on a scrapbook page . Think I may just have to turn them into a brooch or two. Not only that but they were accompanied by a sweet hand written note thanking me for supporting her home craft business.

Retreats

As their name suggests , they are an opportunity to retreat from daily life, step back , breathe out and do something you love. I think they should be available on the NHS. A delicious way to restore balance to your life and restore your faith in womankind. I've just returned from Scrap A Jack's retreat in Stratford, What a wonderful way to spend 3 days ... in the company of some of the loveliest people you could wish to meet , playing with pretty products and learning new techniques. Not only that but you come home armed with layouts about the people you love... it's the gift that keeps on giving as they say. I'm still enjoying the memories , the laughs, the inspiration, the sight of all those decorated bras in the challenge to raise funds for Shenna's Moonwalk in aid of Breast Cancer ( Well done Sheena - you are an inspiration) and the way Mary pronounces GORGEOUS ... a new catchphrase in our family. Thanks everyone for making it such a lovely weekend.
And is if all of that wasn't enough ... I got to do it all over again at Scrap Revolution's Retreat this weekend. More inspiration, laughs, stoic stories of people overcoming obstacles and difficulties in their lives , a never ending supply of toffee ( thanks Kate) a dozen fresh eggs to bring home ( thanks Emma ) . A real tonic .
Roll on June and the Scrapa GoGo retreat. I'm feeling very guilty that I've had the opportunity to indulge to this extent ( although I was 'working' if you can call it that ... way too enjoybale to be called work ... at one) but then it's a lot cheaper than therapy.

My husband's mother died today. After a long illness she passed away, finally, in her sleep, thanks to the wonder of morphine. Although we'd had 14 months to prepare for this,since the onset of her terminal illness,it still takes you by surprise and wanting to have said more in the final weeks.
The boys' reaction was as you might expect for their respective ages - incomprehension mixed with disbelief at the finality of it and the dawning that they will never see or talk to her again. Lots of questions, fear mixed with curiosity as to what happens to the body . I was pleased that they were able to talk freely and openly about it and weren't afraid to ask questions. I feared though that my answers were ill-prepared and unsatisfactory although I did attempt to answer them with honesty. It's a fine line though between truth and not wanting to distress them.
I will remember her as being the most wonderful matriarchal figure in the nicest sense of the word - loyal wife, wonderful mother to 3 children, doting grandmother to 8 grandchildren and 3 great grandchildren. Stoic, resourceful , razor sharp wit , modest, a great sense of duty and humility and yet very much her own person and able to hold her own. Glamorous, generous, cheerful and a great friend. She treated me like her own daughter for which I will be eternally grateful, having lost my own mother way before her time. Who could ask for more ?

New addictions

Yoghurt and cycling.

Did I ever think I'd say either of those things in the same sentence as addicted ?

I'm just hoping that the fact that I'm eating my own body weight in fat free yoghurt doesn't mean I'll go off the stuff. Adding the Food Doctors Omega mix of seeds helps. It takes twice as long to eat the stuff so you feel fuller quicker or something like that.
This evening I felt quite twitch by about 6pm because I hadn't been out on my bike. I'm not talking full body lycra , cycle helmet , water bottle stuff , just a gentle amble through the park perched on my ladylike bike that has a lovely wicker basket up front and now a new bell which I felt obliged to ring just to test that it worked.

There's a kindly camaraderie amongst fellow cyclists that makes you smile inanely as they pass by. A sort of nod to the fact that you've discovered what they've known all along. Even my gel saddle seat is beginning to feel quite comfy or maybe my backside is just hardening up.

I hope this new love affair continues at least for the summer. Can't imagine peddling through a lashing rain storm in November , but whilst the birds are singing and the trees are in full bud , it truly is rather exhilarating.

Eating Less

Seems to be working. Makes sense really , the less you eat the less your body expects. My body is still screaming CHOCOLATE at me but only occasionally rather than incessantly. The next hurdle is trying to stop my life from revolving around mealtimes. Everyone in our house is always hungry - comes with the territory I suppose - teenage boys. Everything seems to involve food. If I'm not preparing it then I'm planning what to do with it , shopping for it or clearing it away. The kitchen is filled with the stuff - fridges, freezers, cupboards, wastebins. It's everywhere . There's no getting away from it.

As my husband left for work this morning and asked what I was doing today I replied "Sainsbury's" to which he said " Have fun". Does he think it's some kind of club or something ? Possibly, as he hasn't stepped foot inside a supermarket since I don't know when.

Change

As I labelled up all of youngest son's news school uniform last night, I realised that this would be the 3rd time I had done this for him.
We've been through white, black, red collared and now red polo shirts for gym, a rainbow array of coloured rugby shirts and football jerseys and every conceivable style of school bag from vinyl book folder to industrial sized backpack. We started out with cute black pumps from Woolies and have now reached the stage of trainers the size of small boats.
God willing this will be the last new school we'll ever have to get used to. New buildings, new route, new classrooms, new friends, new mums, new teachers - all change , yet again.
As I watched his little blond head bobbing along the corridor heading off for an induction talk in the refectory, I marvelled at his stoic smile as he waved goodbye, a long way from home, then turned and headed back to the car. In the quiet of the front seat I shed a quiet little tear at the newness of it all . You see - some things never change.

This is why...

.... I never let my husband take photographs of me. This is as
good as it gets.

Do these sorts of things happen to other people or is it just me ?

Most people would remember their trip to the Royal Horticultural Society's Wisley Gardens with a certain fondness .... maybe for the riot of colour sprouting from the herbaceous borders or the neatly manicured lawns.

I will remember it for the hour I spent knee deep in other people's baked beans looking for my youngest son's brace which we'd inadvertently left on the cafe table only to be cleared unwittingly by a member of staff after we'd departed.

Half way back up the M3 , youngest son asks me if I remembered to pick up his brace. About turn to Wisley. An hour later, having trawled through 18 bin bags full of food waste destined for something called a macerator, I emerged semi triumphant having found only half of it.

Half an hour later I'd managed to locate the other half back out on the cafe terrace. As I punched the air in triumph a loud cheer erupted from the remaining diners. Head throbbing and covered in tea leaves I re-joined the rest of my party waiting patiently in the car park. Fortunately I was allowed back in the car despite looking like a tramp and smelling like a school dinner.

Two days later I was still finding stray tea leaves. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to eat another baked potato with baked beans nor visit Wisley without breaking into a sweat.

The Teenage Years

I've just listened to a radio 4 programme about horror stories from parents of teenagers and thanked my lucky stars that I'm not having to endure what some of these poor mothers are having to survive.
As the programme ended my 14 year old arrived home from a sleepover at a friend's house, greeted me with a smile and asked me how I'd slept last night and was I having a nice day . Aww ... bless.
Minutes later he sheepishly asked if I'd mind driving him and some friends to Thorpe Park. This boy will go far. I only wish they did GCSEs in charm and the powers of persuasion.