The Old Lie

Jonathan Ross once tweeted,  when he was still on The BBC's film programme , in reply to a 'fan' who told him on Twitter that he should stop , it was boring,  " I'd just watch something else if I were you "

The trouble is , I suspect that from the 24th July onwards,  there will be precious little on TV to watch apart from the Olympics. I quite like sport but in small doses . I resent the over-blown commercial nature of the Games and the fact that every poster I've seen to date, depicts an air brushed super-model in some form of lycra. Can't sports men and women just look normal ? Fit by all means but normal.

Every Sunday glossy magazine has a bunch of Team GB glamour girls done up to the nines in evening wear and killer heels. is it not enough for school children to try their hardest at running, jumping , throwing and catching without having to look as if they've just entered a beauty contest ? And god forbid if you can't run a triathlon or two before teatime without breaking into a sweat. That would imply that we just aren't competing hard enough or are is some way , grossly inadequate.

When I was about 9 or 10 , as soon as Wimbledon came on the telly , all of us would be out in the street knocking about a few balls with our trusty Dunlop Maxplys. That wouldn't cut the mustard these days. If you hadn't been enrolled into tennis camp by the time you were 5 , or been spotted by a tennis scout for Junior Wimbledon by the age of 8, you'd be deemed a write-off. It's all about being better , stronger and sadly angrier . You only have to look at the furious and contorted grimaces of some of the tennis players these days as they score another point against their opponents, to notice that their demeanor is more that of a gladiator , fist triumphant in the air , the sniff of victory in their nostrils, rather than that of a conscientious sportsman. And as for all that grunting on court ... oh please.

And since when did MacDonalds and Coca Cola have anything to do with a healthy diet such as might be promoted in the pursuit of sport ? It really is all about money , nothing more and nothing less ... oh and being better than everyone else at the expense of true sportsmanship. When Rupert Murdoch can pay £3 billion pounds just to show Premier League football for 3 years, then you know the world truly has gone mad. Doubtless that could write off a sizeable chunk of third world debt, releasing millions from a life of poverty and disease but no , lets spend it on fueling the millionaire footballers lifestyles ... after all their WAGS can never have enough handbags. Don't get me started.  

So I'm afraid I've turned into a grumpy old woman with regards to this Olympic nonsense . At the risk of offending sports fanatics, I've written a poem , which anyone studying English Lit for GCSE will immediately recognise. With apologies to Wilfred Owen .... 

Spent double , like old suckers, over-taxed

Squeezed dry,  coughing up like saps, we cursed through drudge,

Till on the telly we turned our backs

And towards our PCs began to trudge

Politicians droned on, many had lost their wits

But carried on, regardless, regurgitating spin 

Drunk with fatigue , deaf to their endless drivel 

About “The greatness of The Olympic Spirit”

Tickets ! Tickets ! Quick boys , they’re on the internet,

Filling in the clumsy forms , but not in time

Someone was still desperately fumbling for the synchronised swimming

Flound’ring like a man posessed

Dim through the misty screen and tawdry 2012 logo

As if under a spell, I saw him paying thousands.

In all my dreams, with wallet open

He plunges at me , greed infested whining

If you too could see, on the Olympic site

The pathetic goading of self interested, hyped celebrity

of being proud to be a part of this scandalous hoax

And watch his credit card ignite with debt

His gloating face , pound signs rolling in his eyes, 

If you could fathom how thousands for a seat at

some indulgent Opening Ceremony farce can be accepted,

Whilst half the world lies dying of starvation

Obscene consumerism at its worst 

And in the name, supposedly, of sport

Of vile corporate hospitality and MacDonalds sponsorship

Thinly disguised as ‘ uniting a nation’

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate Wayne Rooney style glory

The Old Lie : Dulce et decorum est pecuniam donare quam perdere caritatem et salute *

* Roughly Translates as “ It is good and fitting to waste your money instead of saving lives by donating to charity

From the sublime to the ridiculous

It's been a bit of a rude shock to return to temperatures of under 20 degrees and rain when we've spent the week basking in 37 degrees and upwards. Funny how quickly you acclimatise to the heat - maybe it's the fact that you get to do nothing more strenuous than swim all day and have all your meals cooked for you.

We've just returned from a fabulous holiday - the sort I thought I'd never like and yet it was like paradise. This may be partly due to the fact that it was all inclusive,  a blessing when you're traveling with 2 Coca Cola addicted kids and a husband who loves beer, gin and tonic but not necessarily in the same glass . Everything was on tap - drinks, watersports, meals.
The boys were over the moon . They were able to do their own thing and eldest son hooked up with a bunch of like-minded teens - we hardly saw him all week ( another blessing if you've ever dragged a reluctant teen on holiday with you) . What make s holiday though ( apart from the sun , the sea and the endless supply of free food and drink ) is the people you meet . We met a wonderful bunch of like minded families and haven't laughed so much in ages ... this also meant DH and I didn't have to bore the pants off eachother - yet another bonus.
Our daily routine went something like this ...

Rise early
Swim in the warm waters of the Aegean Sea
Breakfast on the terrace
Maybe a lap of the pool
Down to  the Sunset Bar for a Turkish coffee
Snooze on the sun deck with a good book and Factor 30
Maybe a G&T or two before lunch
Another sumptuous buffet feast for lunch with enough Rose to bring on a siesta
A spot of windsurfing or snorkelling in the afternoon
Afternoon tea with Turkish pastries and Baclava overlooking the sea
A beer ... or three to while away the afternoon
Shower before dinner
(Think I may have missed the G&T at the aptly named Sunset bar to watch the sun go down
Where and what to eat ... decisions decisions
Off to the village square in the evening for whatever entertainment has been laid on
Wander back through the Night Scented Jasmine filled gardens to bed
...and then it all starts all over again the following day.

And here are the pictures in case you thought I was making it all up.

 

What a weekend

Feeling slightly damp around the edges but definitely uplifted. Just what the nation needed I reckon . A spectacular display of royal loveliness and patriotism ... shame the BBC were working to a different agenda. Mr River Pageant Commentator ... you should be ashamed of yourself. Possibly the worst commentary in the history of commentating . Might I suggest you do your homework before the event . It didn't help that it was peppered with a slew of 'celebrity' lightweight nonsense. So ill-judged and unnecessary.

Anyway , don't want to put a dampener on the events of the last 72 hours , not that the weather hasn't done that already... so here are a few of my own personal memories of the weekend in photographs - in no particular order , a pot-pourri of patriotism.

Strange Day ....

... was planning on cycling up to town to watch the Jubilee River Pageant but decided to stay dry instead and watch from the comfort of my sofa . Glad I did really , because the day turned out to be surprisingly lovely in a homely kind of way.

Waffles for breakfast , in shifts, as both the boys had friends to stay so the breakfast, or rather brunch cooking, was a staggered affair.

Amazingly even the teens entered into the spirit of things and started making up lengths of paper chains for our street party on Tuesday. Undaunted by this spurt of out-of-character activity they then went on to bake chocolate chip cookies , whilst the younger ones tipped out the contents of the Coronation Jigsaw I bough the other day and began the hunt for the corner pieces.

I thought I must have fallen into some Enid Blytonesque parallel universe, but no, the camaraderie continued with a trip to the sports club for a game of squash and a swim ( them not me ) whilst H and I returned to the sofa with a bottle of crisp white wine and some Cromer crab. Could have been worse , could have been sat by the Thames in the rain. I know it's better to be there in person but sometimes , there is another , dryer and more comfortable way.

I've Done It Again

Why oh why,  when questions such as .... "Who'd like to volunteer for ...." arise at meetings, does my arm suffer from an involuntary spasm and shoots upwards ? Is it a hangover from school days when I'd sit, arm higher than everyone's, shouting "Miss , Miss  ... " begging to be asked the answer to a question read aloud ? Can't be, I'd have been sitting on my hands hoping not to be picked. Maybe that's it then . I'm repenting for my lost school youth when I should have been participating rather than hiding behind my desk.

In any event , I find myself on a Sunday having just baked umpteen scones, whipped litres of cream and decanted jars of Robinson's finest, in preparation for my hosting of the  'Jubilee Street Party Bunting Get together ' for all the neighbours.

Now I know it will be fun when we get going but today of all days when I'm trying to fathom the difference between Osmosis and Diffusion , in an attempt to de-mystify eldest teen before his Biology GCSE tomorrow morning. Feel like I've just done a crash course on all 3 sciences and then there's Eng Lit as we used to call it , to wade through tonight ... and the perils of ' unseen poetry' .

My version of an English Lit GCSE would be to ship the whole class off to the Hay Festival to absorb ( by osmosis .... see I do know what it means ) the loveliness of the English Language in all its written glory . But no . The Head Honchos at Edexcel have other ideas, They're gonna make the parents suffer by forcing them to speed read every one of the set books the night before the exam in a vain attempt to explain their contents yo their reluctant teens, the morning of the exam. I'm talking here about my dyslexic and dyspraxic son who will read each book , albeit over the course of a year, thereby forgetting how it started by the end of the 12 months and be none the wiser at the end of the last chapter. Guaranteed to put you off reading for life.

I shouldn't really be wasting time blogging but it's therapy and cheaper than gin. Excuse me whilst I go drag the sewing machine downstairs , dust off the cobwebs and prepare to cut a million little triangles from assorted discarded clothing. This may just put me off bunting for life. When the next Jubilee wheels around in a decade ( pearl ? ruby ? Corgi ? ), I'll have learnt from my mistakes , in theory , and be sitting on my hands when the question " Anyone want to volunteer to make bunting ? " rears its ugly head.

Looking Out of My Window Today ...

 ... let me see .... we have hailstones , about the size of frozen peas, black skies and what might that be on the horizon , a plague of locusts perhaps ?

But not even the weather can dampen my enthusiasm for what awaits me at about 11.30am on Wednesday the 16th May . Eldest will have completed the second of 2 papers for his Maths IGCSE and I can breathe again. The house will relax back into normality and I can clear away the eggshells we've all been walking on for the past few months.

I hear on the radio this morning that our Educational System's method of assessing and dealing with Special Educational Needs is to have an overhaul. Hurrah ! Now you won't have to prove that you're at least three years behind before you get dragged out of class to learn your vowel sounds with an unqualified assistant , thereby missing another essential lesson back in the classroom in the process, which will probably get you off onto the wrong track in arithmetic or some such.

Apparently lots of children have been 'mislabeled'. What happened there then ? Did they get the wrong barcode or sell by date ? A bunch of experts have been wheeled out to express their views on radio 4 . These range from 'regret' that so many children have fallen through the net , right up to anger that they'll leave school without being able to read. And meanwhile if you want a statement for your child , which still sounds like they're being classified as educationally unsound, rather than failed by the system, unless you can dig deep and hire a barrister to 'defend' your case in court  (.... yes court !) , at eleventy squillion pounds a minute - you're stuffed.

So what's the answer ? More teachers, better qualified, smaller classes and differentiated work for those who can't do quadratic equations by the time they're three. Wouldn't it be lovely if our children could just ... wait for it .... enjoy school rather than endure it ? Poor loves , I wouldn't want to be a schoolchild these days.

4 Eyes

I am helpless with laughter. If you haven't tried it yet , go straight to Specsavers website and try out their new gizmo where you upload a photo of yourself which enables you to 'try on' any of their frames.
Trouble is ... I look like a cross between Dame Edna and Eric Morecombe in every single pair.
Still .... worth a good laugh on a Friday night if nothing else.




                        
                  


And talking of Friday night ... what is it about wine O clock on a Friday that still makes me feel like a teenager getting home from school ... childishly excited about the anticipation of the weekend ahead ?

The fridge is bursting with 4 lots of M&S dine in for a tenner meals ... should keep us going until Monday - I have no intention of cooking for the next 3 days . Instead I'll be taking my pick from chargrilled chicken and prawn paella, salmon marinated in soy and ginger, fish pie and pork medallions in a creamy something or other sauce. And that's just the main courses ... wait til you hear the puds - Irish Cream tart slices, trifle, raspberry panna cotta and key lime pie. The 4 bottles of wine alone would have cost £32 which means that the 4 main course, 4 side dishes and 4 puddings came to a grand total of £8.

As they say ... this is not just ordinary food this is ... an absolute bargain.

Food

A subject close to my heart ... and hips ... and thighs etc
Why do carbs taste so good and broccoli tastes like ... well broccoli ?
Why is everything deep fried delicious ?
And why can some people eat for England and never gain a pound ?
And why do I have to eat every least chip including the dodgy one at the bottom of the scrunched paper that looks like it may have succumbed to a spot of potato blight ?
Why does only wine hit at the spot at the end of a bad day ?
Why won't an apple do instead of a Cadbury's Wispa ?
Why can't spinach have the same allure as salt and vinegar crisps ?

The answers my friend are not blowing in the sodding wind but just plain facts of life so I'd better get over it and go bake myself a fat - free broccoli and spinach casserole.

I'm in the danger zone .. I'm poised over my keyboard lusting over scrapbooking papers as an antidote to the pouring rain outside when I should be preparing some lesson plans for my next pupil. I can't face getting back on my bike . My clothes have only just dried out since this morning's drenching. Tough choice but do I indulge in a little retail therapy in the dry with a cuppa or do I get back on my bike and pedal off into the downpour ?

Hmmmm , kettle's boiling.

And just so that you now what I may be tempted by .... it's these ...

and these ....

and these...

I could eat this

Every now and then a delicious new range of papers comes along and you find yourself wondering why they look different from the myriad previous releases . Just like with music - there are only 8 notes and yet an infinite number of arrangements of those notes which makes every piece of music unique ( apart from the majority of the top ten chart which are virtually identical of course ) .

So if ether are only so many colours in the rainbow how does yet another combination manage to look so fresh. This range from Prima look good enough to eat ( most of my analogies are based on food I have realised ) but I may resist the urge to munch them and cut them up instead into an interesting layout or two.

Thank you Prima for presenting me with an unquenchable urge to purchase ... not that I ever need an excuse to buy new stash.

Titter Ye Not

And for those who aren't old enough to remember, that's one of comedian Frankie Howerd's catchphrases from an ancient comedy called Up Pompeii - think 'Carry On' Meets 'I Claudius' ... oh dear, showing my age again.

So the mystery is over. The squeaking bedspring birdcall that's been irritating the pants off me for the last couple of weeks has finally been identified as the Great Tit ( hence the title of this post ) by Emma and verified by Sandra, courtesy of Chirp - an inspired App for your iphone which she kindly shared with me, which gives you sound-bites for every known resident bird in the UK.

Now I just have to work out how to get rid of my annoying little feathered friend. In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the double entendres of being able to post comments like ' managed to upload my  Great Tits ' on here and elsewhere. Nothing like the word Tit to get a cheap laugh .. as Frankie Howerd knew well.

Sarah's Cards Retreat

Despite the fact that it's held in Warrington ( no disrespect to Warringtonians ... just the fact that it costs an arm and a leg, takes half a day and about 500 underground station steps with an overweight suitcase to get there ) it is well worth the trip and that's an understatement.

I missed my train buddy Emma en route this time , especially as she'd had the foresight to bring some tinnies ( G&T ) with her last time but this was more than compensated by the fact that she and Kate were both there on arrival for a celebratory bounce on the bed, a quick room search for the minibar ( sadly none) and a forage in the shop within minutes of hitting the crop room.

Several bottles of red wine later we were underway with the first of 6 superb classes, all of which are accompanied by class kits full to the brim with luscious new scrap goodies . You have to pass by the Rhubarb and Custard sweet shop en route to the classroom and it was here that I discovered blackcurrant and liquorice toffees. A love affair at first bite.

A game of bingo and a raffle later we were sat around our enormous tablecothed crop room table armed with fabulous new cocktails courtesy of Emma - that girl is a master at ferreting out tinned alcohol. Note to self for next time .... bring Wine Box as well - an inspiration.

The weekend continued in much the same vein - food , scrapbook shopping, coffee, pecan pastries, a class or two, more shopping , chocolate brownies , and armful of those lethal toffees something new and alcoholic in a tin ( or bottle ) , more food , more scrapping , you get my drift.

The icing on the cake was that we got to spend the Sunday night there too. A great to way to relax after a wonderful time .. with the inevitable bottle or two of red wine with which to reminisce about the weekend's events and count the days until the next one.

Thank you to Lianne and Sarah and the Design team for your exhaustive pursuit of the perfect retreat, seemingly achieved with such ease and yet I can only begin to guess at the amount of hard work you put into the weekend.

Here's my layout from the challenge kit ....
Before They Fly the Nest .... Make Sure they Know How.

Storage Solution

I'd been looking at The Tim Holtz trinket boxes to hold all my bits and bobs but when I saw it in real life I was really disappointed. It looked very cardboardy and rather cheap and nasty and yet still cost about £25.

Then I realised that the solution was right under my nose all the time , sitting on one of my shelves. An old wooden, cantilevered embroidery floss  display box that I'd bought at an antique fair years ago. It's been through various re-incarnations through the years but I feel that it's now found it's true spiritual home in my craft room.

Funny how a mile high stack of packaging translates into a mere handful of stuff. Only problem now is , I'll have to buy heaps more to fill it !

Day Two on my VLCD

... and for those who have never had the misfortune to have HAD to do Lighter Life , this stand for a Very Low Calorie Diet. In fact I'm doing the Cambridge Diet this time but same difference. Having done Lighter Life before, it's just easier to call it that . Either way it is HELL.

So to keep my mind off food , here's a little mathematical peculiarity for everyone out there revising for their Maths GCSE Unit 1 paper on Monday .


If                                            x   =  0.999 999   (1)
Multiply by 10             10x   =  9.999 999   (2)
Subtract (1) from (2)    9x  =   9

Therefore                          x  =  1
And so                                 1 =  0.9 recurring


Weird or what ???


And so must I be to be spending my Saturday afternoon doing maths .
Still, it keeps my mind of food.

Now if only I could make 12 stone 3lb = a size 10 , I'd be really laughing

By the way GCSE students ... I am 53 year sold and I STILL have that dream that I'm going into an exam without having been to any lessons or done any revision and then wake up in a sweat. If you don't want to experience the same fear , stuff Facebook down the toilet and get your maths books out . Trust me , you'll thank me.

What's not to Like about Valentine's Day ?

The title is ironic but having said that the whole heart shaped fiasco can be just a bit of fun in an otherwise gloomy month. The fact that most of it involves my favourite colour (pink) , chocolate ( if you're lucky) and flowers ( if you're even luckier ) has got to be  good thing. Anyway the boys love it as it hasn't quite become the emotionally overblown, potential disaster that it can turn into in adult years. It's also an excuse for a celebration , which in our house always gets the thumbs up.


The boys made cocktails from pink grapefruit juice, passion fruit and lemonade.

I made little American Mail style mailboxes stuffed with chocolate hearts.

I also made some heart shaped placemats and Valentine's crackers ...

... and my husband made ... no effort whatsoever and bought neither flowers nor card. So that's why Valentine's should be treated as a bit of fun filled nonsense which should be banned from age 18 onwards.

I'm consoling myself with the belief that you only get a dozen long stemmed red roses if your husband is having an affair, so not all bad then.

That's My Boy

The paperwork says it all .....

One proud boy ... one proud Mum. One step close to a career in media production. Well done Theo.