Wednesday, 27 June 2007


Second post today!
We have just come from a family trip to the doctors (we really know how to live).
There was a lady sat with her back to the childrens play area, where we are relegated to these days. She had really fantastic 80's/90's back-combed hair sticking out in huge spikes. I sat gazing at it thinking if it were only blue, she would look like I did in my Art College days. Sophie (3 years) pointed at the back of the spikey haired person and said very loudly
"why is that hair like that?"
I told her very quietly that it was very nice hair and people can have their hair however they want it.
"Well I don't like it", she said, again very loudly.
No 1 daughter burst into hysterics, my husband grinned in the opposite direction.
Sophie sat down with a book, pointed to a SeaHorse and said "look, a see-saw"....


No1 daughter is feeling unwell today. I need to telephone the school to report her absense. The school has an automated system for reporting your daughters' absence, so when the phone was answered by a very nice lady I was caught by surprise. I explained I would like to justify why my daughter was not in school today, and gave her name.
"Thank you Mrs Davies, but you will need to telephone the Girls School, you are speaking to the Boys School."
Oh, so I have managed to prove my unsuitability for being a parent once again!

That's not as bad as my darling husband, though. His telephone call to No 2 daughter's school was just fabulous. We practically eat out on this story.

I had had a slightly huge disagreement with the headmistress and refused to telephone her when there was some small problem with something (can't remember what it was now). I insisted my husband phone to sort it out. He wasn't keen, he doesn't like phoning people at the best of times, and so he thought he'd be brave and decided to say something I would say. Foolishly, when the Headmistress answered (boy, she can be scarey) he blurted out, hello, this is Jasmine's Mother. I was in total hysterics and he continued the conversation with the headmistress completely oblivious to what he'd just said, and glared at me the whole time because I was laughing so much. When he put the phone down, he was furious with me, "what is the matter with you? I'm trying to talk to her and you're just putting me off" Once I could speak again I told him he'd just told the headmistress he was Jasmines' Mother..... he swore loudly.

A week later Jasmine was ill, I still wouldn't phone the school, so darling husband had to do it. He said, right, and this time I will not say I'm her mother, picked the phone up, and honestly truly, he did it again! The Headmistress really likes my husband, she smiles widely every time she sees him.
There's really no hope for our children!

Monday, 25 June 2007

Teaspoons are like Socks

How can it be so long since I posted?
Of course I'm terribly busy making the three return school runs daily, keeping house, watching House (obviously), and trying to remember where the dustpan lives.
Jen really shouldn't just up and leave on holiday like that. She only gave me a few weeks on earth does she expect me to find all the things to clean the house with in such a short space of time.
Ocado still don't deliver here. I know we are miles from civilisation, but I buy almost the whole of Waitrose when I go in, surely that counts for something?

We had dinner on Saturday with our truly fab friends Charlie and Catrin.
They are remarkable on many levels. Catrin went to Oxford and advises ,worldwide, it seems, on green energy. On Saturday she mentioned the time she was working as an electrician rewiring strip - joints in Soho (as you do!)
Charlie went to a girls school in London, and was indeed a house-husband when we all first met. But camp? Not at all, his voice is as deep as the flood water is today.

But the memorable statement of the night was that teaspoons are like socks! Catrin is definitely unique. I'm not explaining why teaspoons are like socks, it won't be half so funny, but I was suspicious about the coffee...