Becoming Margaret Thatcher

Don't reel back in horror, I don't want to look or act like her but I have decided that I need to follow her minimalist approach to sleep.  Apparently the old axe only used to have four hours a night (you may say it showed) and I think I am going to have to join her gang on that one, along with the likes of Florence Nightingale and Napoleon so not exactly in bad company. 

Have been looking through my diary for the forthcoming weeks and am feeling the panic set in.  I am what you might call ever so slightly over-committed.  Working full time at the University, part-time for someone else, studying,  trying to train for the race, acknowledging the existence of my children and completing this blog all seems a bit much from where I am sitting.  Today at Church I got asked to teach an additional lesson next week and almost fell over in despair. Of course I said yes as that's what we Christian Folk do....act all nice and willing, then complain in private but how I shall fit it in is an issue.  So the Thatcher school of non-sleep is a good place to start.  Of course I will manage to get it all done....but the quality may suffer.

Anyhow am on a tight deadline tonight so this is just a tiddly note.  My legs are absolutely killing today after yesterday's session.  They say that each step you take when jogging sends a force equivalent to four times your body weight through your knee joints......thats almost 48 stones of impact.  When you look at it that way it's amazing I have any knees left.

Speak tomorrow x x x

Fuming

I am so glad I have you to scream at today because quite frankly I am peed of to the limit and want to rip a certain person's head off.  There isn't much point entering in to the nitty gritty of what has brought me here, I am after all sending this in to the public domain and some things have to be kept private, but suffice to say that 'they' have pushed my buttons one too many times.....in fact this time I'd say they've actually pressed the large red one reserved strictly for a nuclear offensive.

Started out a fairly good day.    Last night we had two extras at our house, giving me six children's noise to listen to but still I managed to get a decent lie in this morning so can't complain.  Actually when I say six children what I should probably say is four children and a couple of semi-neanderthels based on the fact we are talking about teenage boys.  Whereas the girls involved themselves in activities such as dancing, singing, colouring and brushing each other's hair; the boys spent all night shooting their friends (on the Playstation) and speaking only in monosyllabics.  It's clear to me, even from such a young age, that relationships between male and female are doomed.  We are simply worlds, nay universes, apart.

Watched the new phenomenon which is "Glee" on E4's catch up channel, which was good fun... made me wish I had gone to an American High School though, rather than the sad effort known as the British Comprehensive..... not sure whether these programmes give a true depiction of the educational system over there but it occurs to me that whilst they have the Porsches, so to speak, we are driving around in an old Fiat 500.  I would have loved to explore my talents more at school, as it was the only gift I really developed was how to hide twenty Benson and Hedges down my skirt.  Somehow I doubt Piers and Amanda would think that screen worthy.

I really was terrible from about 14 years old.  Not naughty as such...that always seemed so pointless.  I was more of an anarchist - going against all the rules but in a mature way, or at least I thought so.  I had my own style, challenged the teachers if I felt they were wrong, went for a smoke in the toilets every break  and in my last year attended only 17 days out of 280.   How I got any qualifications I am not sure.   I was the only child who never got asked for notes of absence....my tutor would simply say "hello Bambi, nice to see you today, have you had a good time off, don't suppose you have a reason for it?  No, didn't think so, never mind" or words to that effect.  He was so chilled, but only with me which none of us ever could really understand.  I remember once he bumped in to me as I was walking out of the school gates on my way for a skive....didn't fuss, just said "I'll be seeing you then".  "Yes okay Sir, have a good day".   Sometimes I wonder if he had put his foot down whether I may have been more reticent to do the things I did.  Maybe he just genuinely felt I was a lost cause. 

Anyway....reminiscing over. 

Cleaned the house, went for our jog which didn't go so well, although saying that my disappointment is more related to the 'expectation gap' than a real absence of genuine achievement.  Four weeks ago if you had said we would be jogging five miles, albeit with a few walking breaks, I would have felt it was nigh on miraculous.  Now however I am expecting so much more from myself.  I wanted to do 2.5 miles without stopping, short rest, then finish the distance.  In reality it was 2 miles jog,  then walk, 1 mile jog, then Mcdonalds for a pee, 1/2 mile jog then walk, 1 mile jog then walk then 1/2 mile back jogging.  Just felt so interrupted and messy.  Plus I developed a severe burning in the middle toe of my left foot from about the two mile mark which was causing me all kinds of trouble.   Oh well I did entitle this blog "ups and downs" so I should expect there to be both.

As for stopping in Mcdonalds.  I couldn't believe the looks we got....some so blatent they may as well have just laughed in our faces.  No doubt we may have appeared ever so slightly strange, all purple headed and clobbered out in running gear, but still.  Perhaps they were merely laughing at the irony of two such wannabe fitness freaks stopping by at the quintessential heart disease joint?  Regardless  I was very tempted to stand on a table and pronounce their impending obesity and inevitable death due to high cholesterol, suggesting that it will be us who have the last laugh, ho ho ho.  I appreciate now how extreme that might have appeared.

Maybe I am just an extreme person.  I do tend to have an all or nothing approach to most matters, which I am beginning to feel is not a good thing.  Possibly if I were more objective I would see that a lot of the time I over-react to situations.  Potentially why I started this evening feeling like I were going to explode.  Now I am feeling much more calm.  Once again I can't reiterate enough how this blog is a stress busting experience.

So now I am off to go eat humble pie (well it's better than no pie atall I suppose) and watch some more "Glee".

Aaahhh

Hospitality here I come

Turns out the University wanted a short plump brunette with a few greys threaded through.  Bugger.

Attended the interview and, although it's not quite the role I was expecting, they have offered me the job and I have accepted.  Sounds like quite a challenge, working in the 'hospitality' department of one of Birmingham's larger Universitites, and trying to turn it around somewhat due to its current floundering status.  Those of you who know me may be aware that I am quite the interregator and managed to glean from the interviewer that half the department hates the other half and it's borderline civil war.   So in addition to providing financial advice and improving customer relations I will also be official Peace- Keeper.  Shall also involve a bit of hob knobbing with the big boys (bosses I mean) so who knows, could be a platform to another, more appropriate opportunity (mistress, dominatrix...).

Did I mention that a few weeks ago I ran my husband over???  I know I am hopping completely off tangent here but it is relevant I promise.

Towards the start of January, during Britain's attempt at mimicking the Swiss Alps,  I had been for a walk up the Wrekin (the day of the blog title picture infact) .  Anyway before I started the drive back home I called Christopher to remind him that Charlotte, our eldest daughter, soon needed collecting from primary school.  Thirty minutes later I was turning in to our Close when I saw a suited figure running across the road.....a suited figure wearing a pair of trainers nonetheless, looking ever so slightly wild and scary.  I am not sure whether the sight of Chris distracted me a tad, after all not only did he look bizarre but he was also very late for collecting our child hence his running, or maybe it was simply the icy state of the road. Whatever it was, as I tried to turn left to mount the drive the wheels locked and I skidded forwards.  It really is incredible how time slows right down in those circumstances.  I could feel the car gliding gently towards the neighbours house, straight ahead, and a few feet away my nutty husband running, only slowly now, towards the same spot.  In my mind I remember thinking "why is he still heading in this direction" and then the realisation hit me -  he was going to try to do something radical and brave.  Clearly having watched too many episodes of the Hulk in his formative years he figured any moment he'd sprout muscles, turn green and be able to save the world.  Instead the car hit him, knocked him to the ground, totalled a lamp post in the process, then came to a stop. 

For a second or two I couldn't see where he had gone.  Fearing the worst I anticipated getting out to find that his legs had been amputated to match his half missing brain.   Instead I opened the door of the vehicle to hear him screaming "why are you trying to kill me?" in a genuinely distressed voice.  No dear I assured him, if and when I am going to kill you there'll be no trying about it.   I gave him the once over, but other than an almighty bump on his forehead and looking a little concussed he seemed relatively ok; and absolutely not too out of it to realise that we needed to hide the evidence ASAP before an onlooker reported us to the Council.  Quickly we gathered the eleven pieces of plastic formerly known as the bumper and legged it down the road to our house.  It never ceases to amaze me that Chris is unable to think straight on most subjects, but when money enters the equation his brain is immediately razor sharp.

Upon examination we found that although the bumper/skirt was destroyed there was no structural damage, so Chris spent the next five days manually gluing it all back together, and I have to say did a pretty good job, or at least I thought so until today.  Got to my interview to find that half the front of the car was hanging off and the other half was being held on by a single screw.  Ended up ripping as much away as I could and putting it in the boot, then spent the afternoon feeling dreadful about having to tell Chris his handiwork was crap.

After the interview went straight to pick youngest daughter up from pre-school.  Parked the car in a sensible spot, collected my child, began walking back towards it then heard an almighty crunch as a mini bus clocked said vehicle right on the side.  How ironic.  After all that time spent fixing it, seems the car may very well  now be a write off.  Wouldn't have minded so much but the driver, seeing it was empty, made no attempt to stop.   Naturally I chased him to his destination and beat him to a pulp.  Joking of course, but I did catch up with him and took his details. Naughty boy.  So now it has a knackered, smashed up front bumper, a broken rear light, a dent in the side and electric blue break calipers (can't blame those on anyone but Chris).  Being a sports car it's not a good look.

Which brings me around to looks and why I think I may just have cracked this entire physicality lark.  I was musing about my latest endeavour, to get fit & lose weight etc, and questioning myself as to why I feel it is going to be different this time.   I really hope that others of you talk to yourselves and I am not actually suffering from multiple personalities. (Please tell me so I can reassure my other self).  I concluded that the reason it feels so positive right now is because my motivation is more spiritual/emotional, rather than simple vanity.  When I am in one of my "must look better" modes I want instant weight loss/quick results and fall in to the pattern of becoming deluded.  I starve my body, lose half a stone begin to feel like Twiggy then (and this is when the delusion sets in - probably due to lack of food) begin to think I actually look like her.  It's so easy to convince yourself you look better than you do.....all you have to do is stop looking.  The amount of times I have walked past a shop window thinking "gosh that woman is a bit of a porker" only to realise it's not a window but a mirror and the fat bird is me.  Just as in my head I am five foot eight until I see a photograph revealing the truth, then want to curse my sister who obviously pinched all the height allotted to both of us.   However feeling good is something you can't fake.  You know what's inside and whether or not it's genuine.  I have never found anything yet to beat that feeling just after exercise when you've made yourself do it, despite how difficult it was.  You literally are so pumped with endorphins it's like you could handle anything. 

Seriously, if only sex were the same!

You must all think I hate sex.  I should probably clear this up as I don't want my husband who is an avid reader of the blog to feel I am undermining his expertise in the bedroom.    I actually do love it, genuinely, especially that bit at the end..... when it's over and you can go to sleep. 

Funny girl. x

Finding time

Don't get all excited..I am not about to announce the discovery of a bunch of time I've found lying around in a cupboard somewhere.  There are still, or were when I last checked, only 24 hours in the day and as yet no possibility of that being extended.  What I am questioning here is where does it all go and how can I make more?  Seriously.  Just as the conundrum of 24 socks entering the washing machine and only 21 coming back out, I desperately want to know why the day inevitably finishes before I do.  It certainly isn't because I waste my time lazing around, well not often anyway.  Maybe I just underestimate how full life is when caring for four dependants (bordering on five).

Got a call today from an agency wanting me to consider a temporary contract in Birmingham.  Pays really well so I didn't want to say an outright NO, even though the logistics of travelling there each day will be vast.  So I have agreed to an interview tomorrow but a part of me really hopes they are seeking a six foot blonde with a great rack, thus removing the decision from my shoulders.  I really hate this aspect of my life; trying to be the provider.  Hunter-gatherer is a look I don't carry off very well (unless the prey is chocolate).  Having said that I am equally unwilling/unable to live off state/family hand outs either without taking a serious dent to my pride, so I really have no choice.  But as Chris tells me "Work is a privilege," something which we usually fail to comprehend until the option is removed from us.  I can't wait for him to get a job now just so I can remind him of that every time he whines.  Privilege smivelige.

On that topic, saw a former work colleague today who appears to have met the man of her dreams: single, loaded, intelligent and handsome (I am placing them in my order of importance here), oh and healthy - which may or may not be a good thing depending on how much his estate's worth.  Apparently he is whisking her away for Valentines to his second property in the 'Knightsbridge' area of Budapest, taking her to an exclusive debutante ball, fully clad to the nines in designer gown (and looking super hot because she is a very foxy lady) so basically he sounds like the Prince Charming we all dreamt of stumbling upon some day.   I confess to a few pangs of jealousy at this point.  Why do we have to grow up to drop those childish dreams and end up married to someone more resembling Shrek?  Chris and I had a small quarrel tonight over the fact that I would like him to stop farting in my personal space.   Not exactly Shakespeare is it? 

Although I began my post complaining about lack of time, I do appreciate that I am able to sit here each night and update this blog, hence I must have some moments to spare, or kind of.  A few people have commented that perhaps I have too much!   I am finding though that taking a few minutes to examine myself (mentally) is highly therapeutic - verbalising thoughts and feelings is a form of catharsis allowing me to dump off all the cack I carry around.  Such eloquence don't you think.

So thanks for letting me dump folks.   Same time tomorrow?? x

Paying for the privilege

I must print a retraction and publicly apologise to Brangelina who are, apparently, still living in wedded bliss, making yesterday's post ever so slightly libelous.  It appears that my source was completely falsifying information - just more media hype cooked up by some bogus reporter, which is a shame for me but good news for the multicultural platoon of Pitt children.  I think.  Brad, if you are reading though, you just let me know when you're ready for a real woman (one with  jelly belly, droopy boobs and stretchmarks).  I'll be waiting.

Birmingham today then.  Started out badly when I woke up ten minutes before the usual train left the station.   I desperately needed a shower so ended up getting a later one and having to skuttle in to my lesson twenty minutes after it had begun.  If I had known however quite how tedious the topic was going to be I would have considered being a whole day late.  Whereas most students have had the benefit of picking their optional units, tailoring the course to their interests/area of expertise, I am  having to attend whichever sessions fit with my time frame.  I went in to the lesson this morning with absolutely no clue about the subject matter.  Turns out it was Audit.  Implementing Auditing Procedures to be precise.  All I can say is its no wonder Auditors have a reputation for being dour faced and miserable.  

By three thirty in the afternoon I was literally smacking myself round the face desperately trying to keep my eyes open.  For a second I put my head in my hands and allowed my eyelids to close; a huge mistake as the next thing I remember was waking with a start to the feel of dribble trickling from my tongue. Might have been overlooked had I not been sitting on the front row.  Hopefully the tutor will just think I am 'special needs', which I feel isn't far from the truth.

Incidentally celebration is in order as found out I passed last week's test with full marks.  Told you I am good, even with the dribble stained chin.

So paying for emptying one's bladder... something I might expect to do in Harrods but not in dumpsville Birmingham.  Got to the train station in the evening only to find my train cancelled.  Decided to visit the loo but found that New Street charges 30p to pee. Or poo.  Maybe if I had actually needed the latter I would have thought this was reasonable economy, after all 30p or a new pair of pants, I'd pay the 30p anytime.  But I didn't need a poo (because women don't do that, ever, nor burp or break wind) and 30p for what I knew was only going to be a pathetic trickle just seemed extortionate.  In the end I decided to go back out of the Station and find a free toilet in the shopping centre.  After walking to what felt like the other end of the earth I discovered that the next nearest toilet was still charging, but only a 20p entry fee.  As this now seemed like great value for money I paid and went in.   It did occur to me that were I to carry on looking for public loo's across Birmingham I could eventually beat the system (admittedly might have to walk to  Smethwick) but by this time the trickle was starting to feel more like a tidal wave.

You'd think that for a charging facility there would be small luxuries included like, I don't know, say toilet paper, soap and loo seats but alas not so; it was an absolute pit.  Urine soaked floors, skid marked U bends and ultraviolet lighting so that I couldn't even shoot up to escape the horror.  Most disappointing.

But not as disappointing as the train journey home.  Like I said, the earlier train was cancelled so already there's a problem - the 4.50pm passengers are now joining the 5.26pm passengers to create double the volume of riders.  And what do London Midland Rail do counterbalance this crisis?  They halve the number of carriages on the next train.  Obvious really.   I have never before experienced the mass panic of 500 commuters trying to fit in to a vehicle designed for half their number, nor do I wish to experience such traumatic events ever again.  Pulverised sardines springs to mind.  I was the very last person to get on amid protest from the Conductor who was stood at the door telling me to get off.  In his words "Madam if the doors cannot close you will have to alight the carriage and wait for the next one".  My response was that of a midwife during the final stages of labour.  Puuuuush - directed at my fellow passengers who all clearly hated me but could see I was not going to back down.  So we squeezed in together.  My face in an armpit and my bum on some girl's suitcase.   Don't think I have ever been so hot in all my life. 

All through the journey though I could only think of the Holocaust.  Yes I know my mind wanders.  I have read so many accounts on the subject of 'the Final Solution' but one of the most poignant which has always stayed in my head, was the method in which prisoners were transported.  Crushed in to cattle/goods carriages with no room to move, no light, no toilets, no water, no food.  And not simply for a few hours.  Sometimes for weeks on end.  Many died in transit, especially the weaker ones like the elderly, young children and babies.  I can't imagine how horrendous that would have been.  Sometimes I wonder if part of my mental challenges aren't because my brain is filled with such imagery, but then it also helps me to keep my own inconveniences in perspective.

Regardless of how my moods fluctuate and the relationship issues I encounter, I know that I lead a very blessed existence and have some of the most amazing people in my life who I am genuinely grateful for.   So tonight as I lay my head down in my beautiful warm bed, I will try to spare a thought for those who genuinely suffer, and think about what I can do to make my part of this world a better place.

At last my chance to be Mrs Pitt.

How can I not be happy today?  Britain has successfully clawed its way out of a recession, Brad has left Angelina (obviously he too has been reading this blog and wants a piece of me) and the scales finally shifted in the right direction.  Okay so it was only a marginal amount but every little counts as they say at Tescos, or is that Asda?  Who cares, I shop at Sainsburys - where everything is well overpriced but at least you don't have to carry a can of mace spray in your basket.

Now that the big R has ended I wondered this morning whether the green shoots of economic growth may have spread as far as this house.  With great trepidation I opened my purse to see if perhaps I would be slightly wealthier today than yesterday.  Unfortunately it was as empty as it had been the night before.   I then checked my online banking thinking this new found financial security must be somewhere around, but no my current account remains as overdrawn as ever.  In fact even more so.   I am confused.  If we are all now being told to breathe a sigh of relief because we're suddenly better off than we were yesterday, when am I actually going to get some money?  And furthermore how does a recession end overnight???  Did someone decide at 2am this morning to go on a huge spending spree?  Personally I'm not convinced.  I suspect the recession isn't really over....just entering more of a 'depression' stage. I also suspect that before the year is out my own finances may have depleted enough to warrant shopping at Farm Foods.  If it does ever come to that, I ask those of you who truly love me to turn the machine off, so to speak.

That's all for tonight folks.  Didn't do any exercise as have worked pretty much all day on various things.  Feeling shattered and in definite need of some beauty sleep.

Night night x x

Stalemate

So the scales haven't shifted in over a week which is really beginning to tick me off.  Putting it very politely.  Seeking inspiration I decided to google "why aren't I losing weight" in the hope there would be some online diet guru offering an almighty fatbusting revelation.  After twenty one years of yo-yo dieting I am fairly certain there is little I do not know on the subject but I'm open to suggestion nevertheless. 

First listed was the "age causes our metabolism to slow therefore hindering weight loss" concept.  This, I can safely say, does not apply to me, a) because I am only 27 (in my own head) and b) my metabolism is already so slow that the contents of my gut are practically vintage.  I daresay you could find the remains of a few oven crunchies in there if you looked hard enough.   If  a Greyhound were the symbol of a healthy metabolic rate, mine would look much like an obese, arthritic Shar Pei.

Secondly "are you eating enough to lose weight"................... I'm sorry, did I miss something?  Isn't the very point of 'dying with a T' that you try NOT to eat enough.  Oh I know there is a school of thought which claims if you don't eat sufficient amounts you'll actually retain weight but, hello, does no-one remember Band Aid (and no I don't mean the plasters).  Not wishing to appear blazay but surely the fact that famine is a legitimate killer proves that the "under-eating causes weight gain" theory is a load of old cobblers.  Probably invented to placate the 300 million obese people worldwide, who are fortunate enough to have the option to binge (and yes I include myself in that figure).

And thirdly, this smug excerpt from the beautiful 'Brett' at Sheer Balance (presumably located in the good old U. S. of A.), in which she discusses Brenda, a close family friend who is unable to lose weight. 

"Brenda has “tried” a lot of things to slim down, but for some reason, never really has been successful. This last go-round of attempts included an exercise program.  Brenda "claimed" that she went to the gym 3 times a week for about an hour and a half each visit and that she incorporated weights and cardio.  Unfortunately, much like her other attempts at losing weight, this too has not been successful.  After asking Brenda a couple of questions to gauge what she was doing while she was at the gym, it became clear to me that Brenda was in a state of delusion…....Because people like Brenda think that the act of physically going to the gym means that there will be results.".

What WHAT WHAT?????? You mean that simply putting on my neon shorts and headband whilst sitting around watching Jeremy Kyle won't actually make me fitter???   I feel so cheated.  Which reminds me of a joke (but not about cheating...)

"Just been to the gym and there's a new machine there.  I only used it for about an hour, as I started to feel sick, but it's great:it's got KitKats, Mars bars, crisps and everything in it".  Boom Boom.

 

Now if Brett were my 'friend' and had put 'tried' and 'claimed' in those inverted commas, probably wiggling her two slender fingers in the air as she said it, I can safely say she would find herself losing several pounds, i.e. her pretty blonde head.  Just like those incredibly pompous friends who say "you know it's quite simple, all you have to do is........".  Well if it were that simple stick people, why aren't we all thin????  Because weight loss is as much psychological as anything else.  We all know what we should  do.  It's the doing it that's the problem and that's because life is anything but simple. 

Similarly anyone who tries to tell you that obesity and genetics are unrelated is also lying through their teeth.   As with most aspects of life, we are far from being on an even playing field.  I spent an entire week once eating something utterly ridiculous like turnips and boiled beetroot, only to get on the scales and have lost a measly two pounds.  My husband, who lives on a diet of at least 3500 calories a day and is forever trying to gain weight got on the same scales the same morning and had lost 4 pounds just because he'd made a particularly large deposit on the loo.  

But perhaps I am placing far too much emphasis on the scales and what they say.  They're only numbers after all.  Unfortunately for women probably the most significant numbers in her life (bar the numbers at the bottom of her husband's payslip).  I once hid the scales you know.  Well actually I didn't hide them as that would have been fairly redundant unless I have Alzheimers; I got Chris to hide them for me.  Told him that under no circumstances was he to allow me to use them.  Lasted four days by which time I was hysterical and threatening all manner of radical action if he didn't give them back.  He finally caved when I said I was going to spend money on a new set.

Anyway have been up the Wrekin today which didn't phase me physically much at all, again reassuring me that this is all worthwhile.  Later had a brief jog with Corrinna....just enough to get the heart racing.  Am very pleased that I can see such improvements because they really do motivate me to take it further.  Who knows what the future holds and where I will be a year from now.

Probably in traction.

Knowing me, knowing you....a ha

Awoke this morning in a most melancholy state.  Generally I thought the morning after a curry an upset tummy is the usual result, but instead I merely have an upset mind.  Shame really as a bit of the runs would really assist my weight loss.

Don't ask why I feel like this, and I know I have only recently (prematurely) declared myself to be a changed and happy person.  In reality emotions aren't that simple and these manic mood shifts are something I have endured for the greater part of my adult life.   Sometimes I despise the fact that I never know from one day to the next how I will feel, but I am also aware that having such a broad emotional spectrum can be a blessing.  Mediocrity is supremely less appealing.

Sorry to any of you who may feel I am taking our relationship to a far more intimate and perhaps uncomfortable stage here.  I know generally people don't like to discuss mental health issues, which apparently, according to my pocket-sized Doctor Ghosh, is what I have - "Aay tink purrrhaps you have a mintaal heealth problerm Misses Forrrd".  My goodness what a surprise.   It's amazing how many people do have said issues.  Unlike physical illnesses though there is still a certain element of shame attached and talking about it is just not the done thing;  but a bit like vaginal itching and think of England sex, we've all had it so let's not pretend otherwise.   Oh my gosh I just used the 'V' word.....that really is taking it to the next level.

Along that vein has anyone been to see the Vagina Monologues???  VERY rude but rather hilarious and extremely intelligent and insightful.  I thoroughly recommend it providing you are not remotely virtuous and can handle a candid reflection on the baser qualities of mankind.  I must admit that I was fairly shocked at its openness...or rather the fact that it is so public about it.  Personally it would have been easier to watch alone; as it was I took a friend for her birthday and it felt a bit like watching a screen 'love' scene with your parents, and by love scene I mean porn.  It's a shame that all true reflections of life carry a certain element of distasteful content, but I'm positive for most of us that's the reality.  If my life were turned in to a film it would certainly shock and perhaps even rate beyond BBC broadcasting classification standard.  I have a few nasty looking skeletons in the closet - a veritable graveyard infact.

Not so shocking though as the case of the 'Devil Boys' from up North somewhere.  Just been browsing through the Daily Mail headlines and I must say it makes for incredibly chilling, and sad, reading.  One person commented "I think their identities should be made public because eventually some unsuspecting girl may marry one of them and she deserves to know what she is getting".  Whether or not I agree on the identity issue I am at present unsure (I am still waiting for that Do's and Don'ts book remember) but what did occur to me is the futility of the statement.  Do any of us really know the person we are marrying?  Blimey I'd be surprised if we even know ourselves.  Without the power of telepathy I don't see how its possible to truly know anyone.  There is so much more to a person than what they choose to let other people see, it's just not feasible, nomatter how deep you dig.

Although there is one way we can KNOW each other and that's in the Bible sense (any heathens  - look it up).  Which brings me nicely around to another rant that I need to make.  I feel I have come to know my husband so well this last ten days, I know him inside and out, I know him practically every day, I know him in all manner of configurations, so when, please tell me, will he feel I know him sufficiently well to stop knowing him and just get on with that wonderful thing called sleep?? 

I'll let you know about that.

Spell Checker

Anonymous knows what I am talking about......for some reason the blog text editor is missing a spell check facility and yesterday I managed to slip in a mistake.  Did any others of you pick up on it, or are you all as illiterate as I?  Anonymous, are you sure you aren't my Mum?  She's the only person I can think of who is clever enough to notice.  When we were children she forever pulled me up on dropping my H's, slipping in 'aints' and using the colloquialism of "you know what I mean" after every sentence.  Personally I thought it made me sound rather cool but now in later life as I watch my twelve year old son doing a repeat performance "I ad maffs today for free hours mum, init" I understand her point.

And on that subject - Mum you need to close your ears now because the following information may well cause palpitations and stress related heart disease. 

Just got back from the most dodgy exercise stint ever.   All day I have been aware of the pressing need to get my session out of the way before darkness fell, but as there were a million and one equally pressing jobs to do around the house I simply couldn't drag myself away.  Chris and I (and the kids for a pathetically short spell) spent about six hours stripping the house of it's filth and restoring it to a more respectable condition.  I am now quite confident that were Kim & Aggy to pop in for coffee they would be most pleasantly surprised.  However all that cleaning meant that I didn't start my jog until almost five.   The good news is that I managed to go a whole 1.75 miles before needing to stop.  Even then it wasn't because I was struggling for breath but rather I had the most excruciating burning in my feet.  Started in my shins (so figured it was shin splints which I used to get lots in my past running life) but then it spread to my feet and toes.   Any runners out there have a clue what it may be????   And please don't say pressure of such heavy load bearing.

Anyway getting back to the story.   So I was doing really really well but then got all sore and had to start walking.  For some reason I then decided that rather than going back the way I had come, which was close to a main road, well lit and reasonably safe, I would go down a dark lonely footpath parallel to the motorway.  After all I was a woman alone, with no mobile, no alarm, no anything....just me, my sore feet and my MP3 Player.   OOoooooh that reminds me, I haven't mentioned yet that my beautiful baby bought me an IPod Shuffle as a gift today (no not Violet.....do you know any rabbits that have money?).   My actual baby, Euan.   I was just commenting this morning that I would like to listen to tracks whilst exercising and he went and bought me one.  Said I can use it for running and he will use it in the Gym, so it's only half mine, but very kind nevertheless.  He has way more disposable income than any one else in this house mind you, due to his highly enterprising albeit unethical sweet pushing at school.  

Once again I am digressing.  I am now half running/half walking at speed, spurred on by fear, continually looking behind me for any spooky strangers and thinking how absolutely stupid and careless I am and how utterly furious my Mum will be if something happens.......it also crossed my mind that should I meet such a dire end it would truly be a very ironic end to this blog.  I went through all the options of evasive action were I to find myself preyed upon, kicking, screaming, running etc but in the end decided that I would simply have to pathetically submit as I didn't have the lung capacity to do much else.

However as you have probably guessed I did manage to get home quite safely,  proving that even perverts are put off by the sight of a woman frantically jerking her head around every ten seconds and generally looking like she has tourettes.  (No offence).

Don't you just love it when people say that.... "No offence".  Euan frequently begins his sentences with "No offence, but....." which I have pointed out to him infact means "I am about to say something which I know is offensive but don't wish to get in to trouble for it".  Just like when I make statements such as  "I hate to be a gossip but did you know that ......." really means "I have something fantastically juicy to pass on, which I know I shouldn't but it is practically burning a hole in my brain", and "I don't wish to be two-faced but...." can be translated to "I really am a right back stabbing witch".  Somehow adding a disclaimer genuinely makes us feel better.   We're still going to burn in hell though.

And on that positive note I must leave you all.  We have been invited out for dinner tonight which is great except that I now have to prepare myself to sit watching everyone else enjoying their meals whilst I try to feel satiated on the one low calorie option, and when the menu says "low calorie" it usually means "tasteless, unsatisfying and generally half the portion size of the nice stuff".  Life is SO not fair.

Laters.

BIG ISSUES

No, not my own.  I don't have any anymore remember.  This is now the new me speaking, the well adjusted, confident, aware of her blessings, grateful, peace-loving, never jealous, positive version of myself.  What I am referring to is THE BIG ISSUE as in the magazine.  No longer is it merely the trademark signature of  major cities where the salary potential is almost as high as the homelessness problem.   No more simply the bane of  Politicians and Corporate Bankers.  The Big Issue is encroaching upon the very fibre of middle class suburbia - worried, good well you should be.    At lunchtime today  I was approached by a foreign lady (no doubt one of those illegal iminent thingymejogs) stood outside (wait for it) the local Co-op in Shifnal.   Shifnal being the very epitome of posh middle England.  Now either I have missed a large scale natural disaster which has rendered the residents of said tincy wincy town without food and shelter, or she was pulling a fast one.   Homeless my backside.   Having said that I did purchase the magazine from her but only because I am a complete two-faced coward, oh and it had James Caan on the front who I think is a bit of a dish (does anyone even use that word nowadays?).  Incidentally I am referring to James Caan the Philanthropist, not James Caan the actor.  Although I wouldn't kick either of them out of bed - that would just be rude - and as I have said before, I am a desperate woman.

At this point I should make it very clear that I am not in the slightest bit anti-immigration.  I believe in freedom of movement between countries, so long as that movement doesn't mean in to my home stealing my belongings or abducting my children to sell on the black (or should I say caucasion) market.    Unless of course you want Danny in which case I am willing to consider all sensible offers.  Begging is a funny one though.   Several times I have given beggars actual food or offered to take them somewhere for a meal and they have practically laughed in my face, generally dealing in hard cash only.    I am guessing for some people life is so tough that drinking or injecting their lives away is the only bearable option.  Personally I think there is nothing better than eating your woes away with a KFC family bucket.

But do you see how complex everything is?.  Just when I make up my mind about a subject along comes a different slant which causes me to re-evaluate.  I would really like a hard fast rule book.  A 'Do's and Don'ts of life' if you like.  DO give to beggars.  DON'T eat red meat.  DO smack your children.  DON'T vote for the BNP (that's fairly obvious though).  DON'T buy from Gap or Mcdonalds indirectly supporting child labour in China and the IRA.   DO execute murderers and paedophiles (especially those).  So many issues that I can't form an opinion on.   Perhaps that's the point.....as we mature we change our minds about many of these things,  because age brings wisdom and perspective whereas youth is impossibly idealistic.   Or maybe I am just shallow and fickle as my science teacher once told me. 

Tomorrow is supposed to be another long run.  Last night I was completing my new Diary and writing out my training schedule.  When I got to Sat 13th March and the sentence "today's task - a nine and a half mile run" I wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry or go and fetch a hammer to break my own leg with.   Part of me wants to do it but the other 98% is panicking that it is a step, or jog too far.  This is where I need someone to talk me up and get my head back on track.  Trouble is everyone else around here thinks it's a joke too!  actually that's not quite the truth.  Chris believes I can do it but is concerned that (in his words) "you should be careful as running at that weight might well wreck your joints".   Why thank you darling.  You should be careful too my love as making comments like that might well wreck your sex life.

Anyway I am still here and still planning on going as far as I can.   Charlotte had her class assembly this afternoon which was based entirely on the subject of exercise and healthy eating.  At one point a child pointed to the audience shouting "and what exercise are YYYOOOOOUUUU doing?", which made me feel all warm and glowy knowing that instead of hanging my head in shame I could actually answer that question with pride.   They ended singing Jimmy Cliff "you can get it if you really want.........but you must try, try and try, try and try - you'll succeed at last".    That reassured me that I should have absolutely no problem ..after all trying is my middle name.

Getting better.

Had a really good work out today and feel that the improvement to my fitness is clearly measurable.  Whereas before I would jog a mile and practically throw up, I have actually reached the point now of being able to talk as I go and am almost enjoying it.  When talking is involved in an activity it immediately becomes 100% more attractive to me which is why I tend to talk during most things -  much to Chris's frustration.  Alarmingly for the majority of today's jog I was alone yet still managing to hold a conversation, which confirms to me that one or two of my screws need tightening. 

Our original intention (Corrinna and I) was to go for a brisk walk up the Wrekin.  However plans changed and we ended up visiting a friend of ours whom, as I have mentioned in a previous post, has recently suffered the death of her child.  Whatever negativity or self pity I was feeling before the visit vanished the moment I saw her.  Although heavy laden by this terrible burden of loss she is managing to continue to be a resounding example of strength, courage and hope. Admittedly I can see that (physically) the grief is taking it's toll; she seemed so very tired, yet not once have I heard her complain or ask why this has happened.  I know her heart is breaking and her pain is immense yet she does not appear to be angry or vengeful about it.  So many others would put the blame at God's feet and turn their grief in to something far worse.  I think that I'd be one of them.  But she isn't, and I am proud of her for that.

Before Chris got ill I often pondered whether my faith could hold up in the face of adversity.   It's so easy to trust in God whilst life is simple and sweet.  When Chris got ill I initially felt as faithful and devoted to God as ever before, if not more so, probably because I desperately needed the strength He provides.  Over time though I have allowed the mundane futility of  our situation to eat away at my commitment to living life in the way I know I should.  Sometimes I just feel so tired of it all.  Tired of struggling and watching others struggle, tired of seeing so much cruelty and suffering in the world.  Tired of feeling so damn useless to help anyone.   Seeing my friend and her faithful acceptance of this awful situation has made me realise that I must reconsider my position....and soon.

.......as time was short after our visit, Corrinna and I simply did a half hour walk together then went our separate ways.  I jogged for a while by myself  (I was about 3 miles from home at this point), stopped off at Staples to purchase a diary and a roll of clear laminate covering, then continued my journey back with the diary stuffed down my top and the roll in hand ready to swipe any sex pests lurking in the bushes.   Thankfully there were none.  I had some pretty shocking underwear on which could have been really embarrassing.  (I know, I shouldn't joke about such matters - wearing bad underwear is simply not funny).

I have to say that tonight I am feeling a million times more positive about life, running, relationships etc.  I have concluded that as life is potentially over so quickly it isn't worth wasting it doing the things which serve no purpose and lead nowhere, or nowhere good at least.  Worry, regret, self loathing - all completely soul destroying.   What is important, I feel, is working hard, serving others and loving those around me, better.   I am sincerely going to try and address my weaknesses, develop my strengths and try to improve, not just my physical self but the Bambi who resides inside.

Right then.....off to go do some loving service for Chris, if that's what you can call it.

Hormones, Holidays and Homicidal tendencies

My exam was a breeze....I can say that right now because I have no idea whether I passed or not.  Admittedly I shall look a bit of a fool if I failed but I am pretty certain that I waltzed it.   Man I'm good.

So that was the 'up' part of the day.  I say up..it wasn't one bit enjoyable as it took me three and a half hours to complete and for most of that I felt I was about to wet myself.  Not wishing to make a fuss I stayed seated and crossed many parts of my body hoping and praying I would not spontaneously cough, laugh or sneeze thus opening the floodgates.  Finally I comprehend the purpose of the somewhat hideous Tena Lady.  

I have once had to, in a dire emergency I would add, pee in to a nappy.  Not something I am entirely proud of or would wish to repeat but an experience worth sharing nevertheless.  It was a few years ago when I had just had our fourth baby (Maisey) and Chris was still working in/commuting to Dublin each week.  He had asked me to collect him from Birmingham Airport, which was always going to be a bit risky as it involved the M6 at 5.00 on a Friday evening - a sure recipe for gridlock.  Anyway I had been trying out a new diet (Cambridge) which involves nothing but drinking meal replacement shakes accompanied by a minimum intake of 2ltrs of water per day.  Now really, what is it about water that makes you pee so much????  I can drink 18 cans of diet coke in succession and only use the toilet once but give me a glass of water and it's like constant cystitis.  No sooner have you done one than another is on its way.  

Naturally, before the start of the journey I emptied myself as much as possible. Two hours later I am sat on the M6 stuck in stationary queues of frustrated drivers with a belly the size of a basketball almost crying because the need to pee was becoming acutely painful.  The only thing putting me off going was the fact , as is typical of my luck, I was sat next to a van whose driver was positioned at such an angle he could see absolutely everything I was doing.  In the end though the wee won.  I had three nappies (of Maisey's) with me in the car and figured I would just go for it.  Discreetly I tried to stick one down my jeans, closed my eyes and began to relieve myself.  Now you would think wouldn't you that nappies would be the perfect absorber of urine....they are designed for that very purpose are they not?  Unfortunately however there is a MASSIVE difference between the size of a baby's bladder and mine....quite obvious really to the rational human mind, but a desperate woman doesn't have one of those.  In fact the average non-desperate woman doesn't either.   After about four seconds of 'streaming' I realise that this nappy is almost full and so is my bladder, still.  So as discreetly as possible I have to grab another nappy out of the bag, pull out the full one and slide the other in....by which point I think my trousers are half way down my bum but I am past caring, and so I continue.  For the second time, the nappy is full (and no, to my embarrassment, I am not enhancing this story in any way) and so I have to move on to the third.  What happens next is almost too disgusting to admit.  The third nappy is full, I have no more nappies to use and my bladder, whilst nearly empty, has gone past the point of return and I simply cannot stop.  To add insult to injury the traffic is now beginning to move; the nappy overflows eh voila, pee on seat, pee on trousers, pee everywhere and three pee filled nappies in the footwell.  Such a pleasant looking wife greeted her husband that day.  Never see that in movie airport-reunion love scenes now do you.  Pity my breasts didn't start leaking just to finish off the look.

I digress.

After my exam I had a few hours to kill before attending an interview, also in Birmingham.  I decided it would be nice to sit in the College refectory and use the internet for a while...in fact I was considering updating this blog.  No sooner had I picked my seat than a DISGUSTING pig sat at the Computer to the right of me began to 'hawk' up making the most revolting noise I have ever heard in my entire life and, being married to Chris Ford, that is saying something.  I initially forgave him, thinking a dose of the evil eye was probably unnecessary, after all he was surely embarrassed enough about it without me making a fuss.  Obviously not.  15 seconds later he did it again.  Then again. Then again.  Now I am usually quite a tolerant person but there are a few habits which push even moi to the edge.  Slurping cereal is one, eating with your mouth open is another and gratuitous sniffing is a third.  But hawking up in public is probably the most despicable lack of good manners possible.  Slam a door in my face, push in front of me in a queue, steal my bag if you have to, but DO NOT hawk in front of me.

I started by glaring at him.  He was oblivious.  Clearly he was not only deaf to his own noises, he was blind to other people too.  I then started saying in my loudest non-confrontational whisper "why don't you go and get a tissue?" but still this had no effect.  Then suddenly I had this incredible urge to walk over and smack him in the face.  I began to consider that if it really were true about Birmingham and guns (they say you are never more than 30 metres away from someone with one) that possibly somewhere in Kaplan someone may have arms I could borrow and blow his snotty nose off with.  At this point I realised that my period was due, I was coming over all homicidal again and really should STEP AWAY FROM THE HAWKER. 

And so I went shopping.  Deja Vu.

So yes, my period is coming and I am typically manic.....I inevitably have three days of craziness, one where I feel like killing everyone around me, the next where I feel like killing myself and the third when I just cry about absolutely anything that's remotely well...anything actually.  Third world poverty or a missing lipstick.  Anyway that explains why I have been feeling so tired and why, I must confess, I have done NO exercise for two days.  However Corrinna and I are off up the Wrekin in the morning (although now I have told you that nugget of information on my whereabouts I may have to change my plan as my mum is worried I am a wanted woman.....I should be so lucky!).

Report back soon.

And thank you to those of you who have made comments.  They have all been very kind although way too complimentary.   And as for your comment, my darling Bianca, about holidaying together in our bikinis.....even if I lose three stones my arm will still be the size of your torso thus the chances of me standing anywhere near you and your eighteen year old super slim body in a anything shy of a burka are pretty much zero!

Pressure

I must start my post by commenting on a link sent to me by my mother today via Facebook.  "Is Stress making you Fat?", which she suggested I may find interesting.   Firstly, NO I don't think stress is making me fat.  What is making me fat is Maryland Cookies, Jam Doughuts, Sweet and Sour Chicken Balls, Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream and my (former) complete disregard for the concept of  'you are what you eat'.   I'm sure you have all heard the joke; wife says "does this dress make my bum look big?" to which husband replies "no, your fat does".    Stress isn't making me fat.  Food is.  Plain and simple.   I am certain that my Mum's intentions were of love and concern, but she now has me paranoid about other links which may be heading my way....."is depression making your boobs sag?", "is psychosis giving you blackheads?", "is your husband's lack of comprehension of your workload making you an evil cow?".  Hmmmm probably.

Tomorrow is my first AAT exam and  I am about as prepared as I am for everything I do in life.  Today, instead of knuckling down to some serious revision, I have been wandering around Telford Town Centre rummaging through the remains of January's bargains.  All in all I managed to spend £30 on items I absolutely do not need but could not resist due to the 70% discount sign practically flashing in front of my eyes.  These include a teal wedding fascinator to match my silk teal dress which I bought in last year's sales and have as yet been unable to fit in to (primarily boob related - which is the one good thing about being overweight).  So,  I may well fail my exam in the morning but will definitely look super hot at the next wedding I attend, providing I shift some of my more wobbly bits.

Other pressures I am currently feeling are the need to earn some hard cash and/or sell my old house, the need to clean the home in which I currently live, the need to focus on my spiritual self (who is well and truly comatose at present), the need to spend more time with my children and make a conscious effort to spot what their needs are, the need to make my husband feel like I love him by performing conjugal duties, and the need to find more hours in the day so I can do all of the above.   Sometimes I HATE being female.  I honestly believe it would be better to be a man (mostly).  I wouldn't want to look like one or have to restrain myself from crying in public places but other than that I think they have it very easy.   They can shave their heads, be bald, wear zero foundation, put on the same clothes day in day out without attracting negative attention, fart in public, burp in public, stay away from the home most of the day, generally eat more than women and not gain weight, and as far as I can establish most of them don't have any major hangups about the way they look....even the ugly ones.   Conversely, regardless of how gorgeous any woman is she generally hates herself and wants to look like someone else.  Where does it all start I wonder?  Both of my girls currently find no greater satisfaction in life than to look at themselves in the mirror.  Somewhere along the line it all gets biffed, and I am guessing men have a part in it.....let's burn them all.

I am kidding of course.  Without men we would be lost........ at least we'd be allowed to ask for directions though.

And finally, well three points actually:

1) I have had no takers for the microwave. You are clearly all too well off so I shall be taking it to the dump at the weekend unless I hear otherwise.

2) Thank you to my anonymous commenter who states that she doesn't know me, but is clearly a better friend than any of you lot who do as she has actually left me

A COMMENT


Did you hear what I said??  Yes that's right


A COMMENT!

WOW!!

I am highly flattered anonymous that you are reading!  x x

3)  To those of you who have voted in my poll and admitted to having a secret crush.....just remember that Valentines is only a couple of weeks away so I expect you to put your money where your mouth is.  Male/Female....at this stage in life I am no longer fussy.

Wish me luck.

All bad things come in threes, oh and does anyone need a microwave??

Ever noticed that?  Or is it just me being highly paranoid?

The tenants of our old house, which we currently rent, called today to say that they are leaving.  Darn it.  I can't say I blame them.  We put the house on the market last August as we desperately need the cash that's in it (not under the floorboards type cash; I mean that equity type cash which has literally been vanishing in to thin air these past two years).   Anyhow so far we have had no takers, which is hardly surprising as we have only had one viewing the whole time.  The tenants have now decided, quite rightly, that they would rather move on before having the house sold from beneath them.  Only trouble now is we can't very well rent out a place which is up for sale.  What fool would want to live there?  UNLESS....an old colleague of mine used to be a hotelier and said he would frequently have people check in (under the pseudonym of Mr & Mrs Smith) and literally use the room for a couple of hours.  Heaven only knows what they were doing.....perhaps just desperately in need of a wash or a nap.   I also watched a programme once about grown men who paid wads of cash to have a "baby" experience.  Basically they visited this old woman who let them sleep in an adult sized cot wearing an adult nappy and adult romper suit.  All she had to do was mother them a little then send them on their merry way the next morning.  How hard could that be???  All these ideas....perhaps I should go speak to the Prince's Trust.

Before that stress inducing news arrived, Chris and I went for a speed walk as part of my exercise regime.  Four miles of pretty fast walking and I really enjoyed it.  What I am not enjoying is getting on the scales every morning (I know you aren't supposed to do that because of daily fluctuations but getting on the scales every day has been a ritual of mine since I was about 13...I kid not.  Some days I have gotten on 5 or more times, although that was in the peak of my obsessive compulsive phase).  The last three days my weight has gone UP not down.  This really isn't fair considering what I have been eating.   However I am determined not to let it make me throw in the towel and stuff my chubby face in defiance. 

Well, it's getting late and I am feeling rather shattered today.  Most days I have felt far more energetic than usual, which I attribute to exercising, but today is the opposite.  I am absolutely worn out. 

And on the subject of worn out things.....today we replaced our 10 year old microwave with a much prettier, shinier and sleeker model.  There isn't a great deal wrong with the old one except that it's a bit small and looks a little run down....a bit like me you might say.  If only I could be replaced for £49.99 from Currys.

Any takers??  (for the microwave that is).

Until tomorrow.

Monday Monday

Yes I know it isn't actually Monday yet but it's practically peeping at me from around the corner so I thought I'd give it a mention.

Sunday has been its usual self.....crazy, manic beginning as I attempted to get four children, one husband and myself dressed in our Sunday best and to Church in a timely fashion.   For some reason, although Church starts at precisely 10am every single week (and has done for the last eighteen years), I never seem to manage to schedule enough prep time.  Frequently on Sunday mornings you can hear Chris singing in his most sarcastic tone "Saturday is a special day....a day to get ready for Sunday" - a song the children learn in Primary and which I have yet to take counsel from.  Today we arrived at precisely 10:00:40.  Under interview conditions I can safely say we wouldn't have got the job.

Part of the reason for my lateness, which incidentally was nothing related to hair or makeup as both of those get done 'dan le voiture', was trying to negotiate with Danny (our second and most entertaining offspring) why he should have to attend said chapel for spiritual edification.  According to him he knows everything there is to know about religion and feels that his week is positively ruined by the misery induced by Church and the Sabbath.  My response to him was that if going to Church on a Sunday was the worst thing that happened in his life I clearly wasn't making the rest of it miserable enough - an oversight which I shall definitely attend to at my earliest convenience.

After arriving slightly late and getting seated I then had the joy of Euan (my firstborn) informing me that in precisely 9 minutes time he was supposed to be giving a ten minute talk (from the pulpit in front of a full congregation) which he had failed to prepare.  At this point I should hold my hand up to the fact he has probably learnt this skill of procrastination from me.  His memory (or lack of it) however comes from his Dad.  Faced with such a crisis I grabbed the nearest scrap of paper and began to frantically write a few 'inspirational' words for him to share with us all. 

It all went swimmingly until, towards the end of the presentation, he looked down at the paper, then over to me, scowled, threw his hands up in the air and said (through the mike) "Mum, I can't even read this!".  Thanks Euan.

On the way home I was discussing with my youngest two (both girls) the issue of marriage.  I know they are only 6 and 3 but personally I believe when it comes to brainwashing your children you really can't start soon enough.  Anyway, I was telling them that I would prefer it if they let me select their husbands as I feel I could pick far better partners than they would choose for themselves.   On what do I base such conclusions????....well only on just about every non-arranged marriage that I have witnessed to date.   Sadly, most of us are ruled by something far lower on our anatomy than our heads.   At this point Danny interjected "Yes Charlotte, you should really avoid any man who is full of himself and has a Quill".  Truly one of Danny's more random statements.  After some investigation we realised that what he had actually meant to say was 'Quiff', referring to the hairstyle of his father when he and I dated, but I daresay any man walking around with a feather pen in his pocket may not be a safe bet either.

And on the subject of my lovely husband......the quiff has well and truly gone, as has the full of himself part.  Our relationship has, for the last few days, seemed to take a complete U turn but then our marriage always has been a little like spaghetti junction, i.e. never really clear where it's headed!  For now though things are going swimmingly.   I daresay this has more to do with me keeping my side of the marital negotiations bargain.....well, you know, what's five minutes out of each day??!!

My request to you.

Yes I am a very early bird today but just wanted to share with you what I consider to be an absolutely amazing achievement......

4 MILE JOG  - in the bag.

It would be extremely remiss of me at this juncture to fail to credit the major source of my success.....my wonderful sister, who is the eternal driving force in all things energetic.  I am going to try to do the same route again next week without as many walk breaks.  Although in my defense I would guess that of the 4 miles today at least 3 were actually jogging, so all in all a great start to the morning.

As for my request to you.  I know lots of you are looking (note the newly added clockcounter feature.  This measures how many hits the site is getting so unless my mum is sitting there click click clicking in order to make me feel good I am guessing there are quite a few of you).  Trouble is I'm starting to feel like this is all a bit one sided....me talking, you listening and no feedback. 

Would love to have some comments......not compliments, just something to let me know that you're there!

For now though, I have so say that this Blog thing is turning out to be hugeley cathartic and I love it.  As I love you all too, my wonderful friends and family x x x

Mundane

I wish I had something amazing to say about today, but I don't.

In my fantasy though, this is what happened......

I woke up this morning, at 6am, bright eyed and raring to go, to the sound of robins tweet tweet tweeting on my window ledge.  I sprang out of bed and ran to the scales to discover that I had lost a whopping 2 stones overnight.  Hurrah.   Looked in the mirror and noted my flawless complexion, my perfect hairstyle and thought to myself how fortunate I was to be such a handsome woman.

I then hoovered the house (quietly so as not to wake the children), dusted, cleaned the bathrooms, mopped the floors, did every scrap of laundry and all in the space of twenty minutes......actually who am I kidding, this is a fantasy right?  Backstep.  I answered the door to my housemaid. Or should I say houseman.  All 6 foot two of his rippling muscles, dark glossy hair, kind green eyes and a degree from Oxford in Literature and Contemporary American History mingled with a spot of Politics.  (Unfortunately for him the graduate market right now is very competitive and the only work he can obtain is cleaning...shame).

After dealing with him, I dressed in to my running gear (oh wait a minute, perhaps I should have put my clothes on before answering the door....whoops), and jogged a quick 10k in just less than 45 minutes.  Got home at 7am to a spanking clean house and the sound of my childrens' laughter as they awoke from their dreams of sugar, spice and all things nice.   Wafting through the air was the smell of cooked breakfast (made by the maidman) which we all sat down to eat with not a single bickering word to be heard.

I helped the children get ready for school; bathed, brushed, clean pressed uniforms and completed homework in bags then sent them on their way, holding hands and singing as they walked.  Such contented beings the world has never seen.

As my car was in dire need of replacement and our bank balance was looking incredibly healthy I decided to visit a car dealership and treat myself to the latest Mini Cooper (which I have had my eye on for some time).   Silver body with full leather interior.  Nice.  Exhausted after so much exertion I felt a massage was in order, so off to the spa for me, book in hand, to be pampered and preened for the remainder of the afternoon.

I got back just in time to do a little charity work (speaking to the presidential office to arrange emergency aid and such)  before nipping back to school to fetch my delightful children and bringing them home to a meal prepared by my personal chef .

After a couple of hours of playing games, drawing, dressing up (with the younger ones) and having meaningful adult conversations with the older ones I have now read them all to sleep and am ready to retire myself.   But only after my wonderful Husband returns home from his super high flying, mega bucks job, with a bouquet of flowers in hand and tells me that I really am the woman of his dreams.

Fantasies eh....!

I suppose I should tell you that in reality I did do exercise, and I have been a very good girl on the eating front.  Tomorrow big sis and I are trying a four mile jog.  Holy moly I am done for.

Love Bites and Meatballs.

Exercise wise today I am doing mighty well.

Went for a little jog around and did a spot of cross training, so all good stuff. The scales haven't shifted in a few days however....let's hope it's because of all that muscle I am building. Something tells me though that the M&M's and chocolate ice cream may be the real culprits. My problem is that there are very few vices in life which are (a) affordable (b) moral and (c) legal. Eating is pretty much it... a virtual-binge experience could well be the solution, any of you techies out there think you could manage that?

On the subject of eating I have today prepared a new bespoke pasta dish which shall be known as "Philly, Chili, Meatballs". They say that necessity is the mother of invention and this is never more so than when cooking with the wrong ingredients. A bit like can't cook, won't cook or whatever that programme was, I just threw together a group of stuff which looked like it might taste okay, and hey presto it was fantabulous. My question to you is, what do you think was in it?? Answers on a postcard please. I'm thinking it shall now be a staple part of the Ford menu for the foreseeable future.

Which brings me nicely on to the overriding topic of the day....the future of the Ford Family, established 1995 (as it says on our plaque). Chris and I last night entered in to negotiations to salvage our relationship......have you ever tried these talks? If anything can incite multiple personality disorder it's relationship discussions. One minute I was completely holding it together and managing to discuss our future in an adult and rational way, the next a weeping blubbering mess contemplating evil schemes on how to make him suffer for the rest of his life for leaving me. (I know, I know, it's not flattering but it's true....occasionally I am a super bitch). The thing is that it's easy to think you want to be rid of someone (which we have both thought about each other) but when it really comes down to it, it's an unbelievably difficult decision to make. Fifteen years is a long time to spend with one person, building a life together, growing 200% (no, I'm not referring to my personal expansion in size; I mean going from a couple to a family of 6). And if I am truly honest I am not prepared to walk away from that. Thankfully after our talks, nor is he.

So what have we decided? Well I have asked him to try harder, to shout less, to respect me more, to appreciate what I do, to cease criticism, to be more motivated and to understand that just because I am having a bad day and being a bit mardy it doesn't actually mean that I hate him, oh and to stop referring to me as "the dragon".

What does he want in return? Just sex every day. That's it. Which really does sum up the difference between men and women.

Watch this space.

On the subject of love bites (to which my title refers)....no the crisis talks did not evolve in to a night of hedonistic passion. Rather today my beloved Violet has turned on me...sinking her teeth in to my neck. Fortunately for her I had already made the meatballs......otherwise rabbit may well have been the dish of the day.

All figured out.

No, unfortunately I am not referring to my life, just my head, which is literally full of figures from today's AAT course. Did I mention that I am currently trying to qualify for the Technician level? This time in 8 months I shall no longer be Abigail Ford the nobody, rather Abigail Ford MAAT. Impressed. You should be. Apparently only about 5% of students complete the course in 6 months which is the target I have set myself. Hmmmm another punishing schedule..... maybe I really would like S&M.

The course itself is held in Birmingham which means each Wednesday morning I have the delight of travelling on the London Midland Train Service. Actually it wasn't half bad today, as it happens. What is bad is that I think I may have a freak magnet embedded somewhere in my forehead. I use 'freak' in the most endearing of manners, but I genuinely worry why all lost, old and insane people feel the need to communicate with me? Let me know if you have a similar problem so I can try and establish a pattern; all short people?, all women?, all beautiful kind looking ones? (yes that must be it).

I arrived at Birmingham with about 45 minutes to spare before lessons started so decided I would go to the Bullring and do a spot of shopping. Being such an early bird none of the stores were actually open so I picked the one I most wanted to visit and decided to sit down outside of it. For some reason Birmingham, along with having no bins - presumably for fear of explosives - also has no benches. Never let the lack of a seat stop you though, is my ethos, especially when you have an extremely large squidgy bottom. So yes I decided to sit on the floor. In Birmingham this is a BIG mistake. First it began with pitying glances, then the centre security started to pace back and forth in front of me and finally, when a smart looking business man opened his wallet and said "here you are love, go get a cuppa - and a wash" I realised my folly....

On the exercise front, aside from traversing one end of Birmingham High Street to the other and walking out at lunch to go fetch the nicest Baked Potato ever (really hot Chilli and Cheese, loads of pepper and a spot of butter.. mmmm mmmm), I have barely moved. So it's a rap on the knuckles for me today. But there are still another 2 hours and 42 minutes of the day left so I am sure Chris and I can get down and dirty and use up some calories....apparently fist fighting is a super fat burner.

I'll post the photos later.

What a difference a day makes....

"24 little hours, what a difference a day makes"....Okay so I won't go on. But truly, a few hours pass and I am a completely different woman. Well perhaps not completely, I mean my thighs still rub, but on the inside I am like TOTALLY changed. Some would say this could be a personality disorder, I prefer to think of myself as hormonally challenged.

It's true though, or at least I hope I am not alone on this one, that we females are a little bit prone to ups and downs. One day I feel like "Belle" and the world is full of possibilities, the next I'm more Medusa than human. Chris likes to refer to women as "psycho" - he is forever saying "oh yeah, she's a psycho - you can see it in her eyes".... a comment he has made about most females we know, suggesting that it isn't infact 'psycho' atall....it's just normal womankind. Of course every now and again you meet a girl who is more Stepford than the rest of us; personally I think these are the ones you really need to worry about. Still waters run deep and all that.

Yesterday was actually a pretty miserable day. I think I may be about to become involuntarily single (sorry mum to break it to you like this) and I wasn't handling it well atall. If not handling it well is kicking down doors that is. But today I am far more philosophical. C'est la Vie and all that. Whoever thought of Marriage, in my opinion, clearly didn't do his research. And please, if you are reading this don't start getting all soppy on me and ringing....this is my vent area remember. I have to be able to be honest but that doesn't mean I want to talk about it. Not privately anyway.

On a positive note, all that kicking was very aerobic and thus yesterday's exercise quota was satisfied.

Today was a walk up the Wrekin...hence the stylish pics. Having gotten up and down safely we arrived back at the car only to discover that my 'companion' had somehow dropped her mobile phone whilst walking. Faced with the choice of collapsing in a heap, screaming and having a toddler style tantrum, or being totally supportive and offering to accompany her back up I obviously chose the latter option - after all the lazy insensitive side of myself is saved specifically for my husband.....(oh I wonder if that's why he wants to leave?) and we started to venture back up. I must tell you that at this point the proverbial air was blue with the cursings eminating from said companion's mouth....she would prefer to remain anonymous at this point (see photos).

Part way back we passed an older gentleman whom I in my wisdom figured we should interrogate to see if he had found said phone.

"Have you found a mobile phone?"

"No. What's the number?"

"What the hell has that got to do with finding my blinking phone"....I wanted to say. How could having the number possibly help? Unless of course he was offering to call it, but as he didn't have a phone that clearly wasn't his motive. I can only assume we looked so 'hot' he desired our number for romantic purposes....I say "our" like we are one person. Fact is she may have looked hot/sexy. I just looked hot/about to have a Cardiac Arrest. Perhaps it was a test....did we know the number?, were we really the owners of the mystery phone??? We'll never know.

So we continued. Then it came to me. I would call the phone (with mine obviously) so that we could detect it more easily. Imagine my surprise when it rang then "HALLO?". Thank heavens for kind old chaps who pick up phones on the Wrekin, thus sparing my poor legs from doing a re-run....when I told this story later to my phsyio's receptionist she said "it just proves that there are some decent people in the world". Yes that's right. There are people who risk their lives for others, donate organs to complete strangers, defend helpless mugging victims anad die doing so, but let us not forget those noble souls who retrieve mobile phones on snow capped mountains, for they are the true heroes amongst us.

Reminds me of the time Chris was in hospital (first day). I went in to the boys school and spoke to the receptionist explaining what had happened and that the prognosis was that he would probably die, to which she replied "Don't worry Mrs Ford, Doctors can be wrong....it happens all the time on Casualty".

Heaven help us all.

Quick Drop

A brief summary of today.

Utter rubbish.

I'll explain tomorrow. x x

Sex, Home Teaching & Jogging.

Couldn't stop thinking today about a conversation Chris and I had once, comparing sex to Home Teaching...ie you never feel like doing it but once you're there it's great.... well exercise is just the same. Incidentally, he's only ever reluctant about Home Teaching, never the other, which makes me think if they tied the two in somehow figures would massively improve !! (Apologies to any non-church followers for whom this is completely irrelevant).

Anyway getting back to exercise.....REALLY REALLY didn't want to do anything today. Had a very late night, not helped my my dirty-stop-out husband returning home noisily at 3.40am - (see what a liberal and chillaxed wife I am??) Once again though the prospect of having to report my failure on here was enough to get me out of that door, braving sub zero temperatures, and all in the vain pursual of an ever decreasing bum. I am very fortunate in that I have a supersonically fit sister who has agreed to support me at every turn so at least I didn't have to brave it alone.

Not only is she superfit but she is also gadgeted up 'to the max' and came with her own watch stylee gps system which calculated exactly how far we had jogged, and at what speed. Had it also been able to talk I think it may well have said something like "you're having a laugh, go home, watch corry and accept your fat middleagedom joker" but thankfully technology has not gotten that far, well not in Priorslee anyway. The good news is we did the required 3 miles and I think I only stopped about 6 times, which is not half bad all things considered. Remember in life it isn't about how fast you are travelling, but rather how far you have come. Unless of course you're in a running race in which case I think speed may have a bit more relevance. Oh Crap.

Also out for the jog was my beautiful niece Eva....aged 10 and cross country champion so a great running partner. She kept saying things like "don't worry Auntie Bambi, I think even at this speed you burn calories" (not quite sure what point she was trying to make) and "do you think it's possible you could come last in the race you've entered?" NO not possible....not even probable....I'm going more for an absolute foregone conclusion unless there is a one legged participant, and even then I wouldn't fancy my chances. I have to say that these events (because I have taken part in a few before remember) take me back to the PE days at school. Whilst I was quite popular generally - everyone knew I was shocking at sport. When choosing teams I would inevitably be last or second to last to get picked. DO YOU KNOW HOW THAT FEELS PEOPLE?!! I'm still in counselling now.

However I have been blessed with a body which works and I should remember that in itself is something to be grateful for. It has bourne me four beautiful, intelligent children and so far has not had any major defects (possibly debatable but personally I don't think being short and unable to cease talking actually counts). So in the grand scheme of things I have a lot to be thankful for. And those kids at school who did get picked first....well who know's where they are now.....probably sat watching Corry.