tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58211012011-10-29T17:48:15.487ZThe Purple Pen is mightier than the er... purple swordehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comBlogger12911100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-38662706395517491292011-07-31T23:37:00.003Z2011-08-02T22:22:27.985Z

People say "Oh, you never stop worrying about them!". Back when Sim was newborn, it barely seemed conceivable to me that I could worry as much about him as I did then- surely 20+ years of that kind of adrenaline-fuelled, well, edge of panic, for want of a better description, would see one safely into the grave before well said child reached adulthood?Fast forward to toddlerhood and the seemingly

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-60853157285005975402011-06-14T00:39:00.002Z2011-06-14T00:53:38.096Z

I didn't deliberately decide to stop blogging. It just sort of happened, and nothing to do with being too busy, or the baby, or anything like that. It was because of the children that I must henceforth call "the older children". These teenage years with them have not been easy- rather like a rollercoaster. They are all three blessed with pretty even tempers, so there's been nothing outrageous

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-62458762850788213682010-05-27T07:53:00.002Z2010-05-27T08:03:26.397Z

People say to me: "Ooh, you're brave, starting all that again!", gazing upon the beaming 9 month old daughter.In truth, although she is not the world's bet sleeper, I lose less sleep over her than I do over Sim. Sim is now nearly 17, and supposedly studying for the first year of A levels, the English school-leaving exams. This means that he ought to be studying ^very^ damned hard.Instead, he

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-62584740023501414912010-03-24T12:53:00.007Z2010-03-24T13:02:46.787Z

I've just been visiting my blog round about the time I was miscarrying back in Autumn 2006, and my goodness does it seem to be another world. I can't really even remember feeling that sad, scared and desperate. This baby is so lovely and so healing and so worth the 6 year wait. I feel...blessed - no that's really not too sappy a word- I feel as though I was chosen, as though she chose me to

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-78552047781358350162010-03-10T16:13:00.004Z2010-03-10T16:22:46.439Z

You know, there's something else I don't understand. Broadband (ADSL for you transatlantic types) lines.Yesterday afternoon, we perceived that our broadband speed had plummeted to new lows. A quick test (once we'd waited the 7 minutes to load the test page, that is) confirmed that our speed was indeed laughable, and would in fact be an object of derision in most developing countries: 8kbps

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-76067233729969292902010-02-27T15:41:00.003Z2010-02-27T15:49:38.065Z

Scene: The car, radio blaring out crappy local station.Rihanna: #And you can see my heart beating, You can see it through my chest...Me: "Oh, so your chest is see-through is it luv?". I like to provide a witty and insightful running commentary on any radio station my children select. Captive audience and all...Dill: (eyes rolling audibly) "Oh Mummy, it's meant to be a metaphor!"

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-1244535576625345932010-02-11T16:25:00.001Z2010-02-11T16:25:42.618Z

You ain't seen me, right?

Doctor Oddversenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-3708382732568710962010-02-09T11:27:00.003Z2010-02-09T11:35:00.635Z

You know, I'm usually fairly cutting edge, fairly early to adopt new technologies, but I'd starting to wonder whether I've shifted into being a luddite without realising it.I simply cannot understand Twitter.I mean, what is the point? Being interested in other people's tweets seems rather akin to collecting shopping lists (apparently people do). Tweets are ephemera, and vapid and useless as a

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-31767695242640081062010-02-05T17:11:00.002Z2010-02-05T17:19:56.466Z

It must be our age, I guess. I'm slightly overwhelmed at the moment with the number of friends who are having problems in their life. I want to help and support them, but not entirely certain where to start. I suppose I've just neatly avoided or postponed any potential midlife crisis by plunging back into nappies (which neatly answers the Why? question on many people's lips about the Grub, back

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-57975070991691047572010-02-04T10:57:00.002Z2010-02-04T11:39:07.819Z

What I may have forgotten to say last year some time is that finally, after five years of shivering and feeling undermined by my own body, my obstetrician put me on thyroxine. And crikety jimmit did my energy levels go up!So I did what any sensible person would do, and decided that the only thing to do when working full-time (well not all that full-time during that little recession thing we had

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-43944422878701819562010-01-20T19:27:00.002Z2010-01-20T19:29:31.262Z

Well.Well now.It's been such a long time, I'm a little nervous. Like I sold this place a few years ago or had it repossessed after failing to keep up the payments and have now broken back in and found it empty.La-laLalalaHellooo? Anybody there?

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-29954609913644730012009-10-02T15:01:00.003Z2009-10-02T15:05:03.536Z

Am so busy at the moment, a whole month has gone by without a post about anything, and you all deserve more than that. You deserve to know how we're all muddling getting on (really well considering the teenager/new baby/ new au pair/ big job mix). I promise to tell you how Sim did in his GCSEs if you want to know (short answer- far better than he deserved given how much work he put into them).

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-62118176347126753862009-09-03T21:55:00.002Z2009-09-03T22:16:10.321Z

Well, the least that can be said about that is that it wasn't what I was expecting.What I was expecting was the nice easy planned home birth I'd erm, planned.What I got (serves me right for presuming), was an emergency C section in the middle of the night on Thursday the 27th, 10 days after due date, followed/ alongside infections for both due to prolonged rupture of membranes. Which to the lay

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-88655754471073923322009-08-18T11:12:00.002Z2009-08-18T11:14:38.088Z

So I am now one day over my due date with this surprising infant, the one that stayed, the one that's thriving despite the six years of waiting.Within a few days, it will be born. I will have four children. I am still struggling to absorb this fact.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-59430230961926716072009-05-28T11:24:00.008Z2009-08-18T11:11:22.205Z

Last week I did something that even a month ago I could not bring myself to do.I went shopping for such things as might keep warm a stranger, newly landed from floating in a lonely warm sea.They have stayed in their packets- I will wash them when you arrive.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-51063818064722978612009-04-20T17:45:00.003Z2009-04-20T17:56:15.137Z

We've recently begun to suspect that the dog is a changeling. Suddenly, at the age of 6/7 or whatever age he is*, he has begun to:1) come when he is called2) be very keen to please3) play with and bring back toys, balls and sticks thrown for him. Previously, he'd treat this kind of game as a splendid opportunity for a spot of being chased.My conclusion is that the diet he's been on since

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-56286696221027098272009-04-18T10:23:00.003Z2009-04-18T11:09:06.460Z

Stepping into the world of teenagers means, it seems, accessing a murky of world of intrigue, politics and diplomacy on a scale unparalleled in adult life outside actual politics. I feel entirely inadequate at times to deal with the plate spinning involved in keeping tabs on what my oldest daughter is doing (not that I think there is that much to worry about, but still...), so complex is her

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-81367669534355564282009-04-08T08:25:00.004Z2009-04-08T08:40:26.125Z

Earthen Witch recently asked me how I'd managed to keep this pregnancy quiet for the first four months, and my answer was simple: Fear.Fear that this one would also go belly up and I'd have to deal with public emotional fall-out along with the private. For the same reason we kept the news even from closest family until after the first scan.Pregnancy at 41 is hardly a given in itself and after

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-87439622816584524972009-02-24T11:45:00.002Z2009-02-24T11:50:04.385Z

Italy has often loomed large at momentous times of my life.The trip to Tuscany in the early 90s, during which I realised that The Boff really would make a pretty decent life partner.The trip over October half term back in 2006, soon after my miscarriage, heavy with the sadness of a baby-sized gap.This half-term just gone, with a healthy fifteen-week foetus squirming its approval as I skied (

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-37151094261934779872009-01-21T17:08:00.005Z2009-01-21T17:08:57.987Z

My site's broken! Help!

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-64752383970624510322009-01-21T17:08:00.003Z2009-01-21T17:08:56.207Z

My site's broken! Help!

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-17717180647461022462009-01-21T17:08:00.001Z2009-01-21T17:08:35.398Z

My site's broken! Help!

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-28294570029831427362008-12-04T10:23:00.004Z2008-12-04T10:30:49.160Z

One of the best things about working from home is that one is able to look after one's progeny should they awake in the night, be violently sick over half of the first floor (including, inexplicably, some upright surfaces such as walls and doors- I tell, it looked like a scene from The Exorcist), and then wish to spend the following day in stately grandeur in front of toddler TV (squiggle sticks

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-39194338274991478702008-11-05T04:58:00.000Z2008-11-05T04:59:30.413Z

Welcome, Barack, and may you bring sanity and clarity.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-71147176894175369832008-11-03T12:39:00.006Z2008-11-03T12:54:06.750Z

So when I bragged..., I mean blogged from the A38 yesterday, we were on our way back from Plymouth, Sim nursing a sore left thumb gained somehow during his judo training session. He was being so calm about the fact the thumb was twice its normal size and immobile, that we automatically assumed it was "only" bruised or sprained, and treated it accordingly.The thumb being somewhat discoloured and

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-14509894634886179822008-11-02T17:48:00.001Z2008-11-02T17:51:23.822Z

See me blogging from my phone whilst bowling down the A38. I am not driving.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-56856962513891732912008-10-17T09:01:00.003Z2008-10-17T09:30:24.301Z

I am spending a lot of time at the moment dithering about Sim's education.On the one hand, he is as bright as a shiny new penny, on the other hand, he is well, not all that good at school. Which rather makes him an unknown proposition when it comes to potentially arranging a year abroad for him.Our plan, you see, with his mumbled consent, although I don't think he is really sure what he wants,

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-14052749709608236332008-10-03T08:32:00.002Z2008-10-03T08:46:40.231Z

I what seems like the blink of an eye, our children are old enough to be away from home for days at a time. We firstly lost Hen and our Spanish lad to a World War 1 battlefields trip, closely followed by Sim leaving for a survival course in the middle of Cornwall. Sim will return later today fully able to trap, slaughter and cook innocent bunnies. The bivouacking part of the course he decided

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-18851370924286415892008-10-02T14:38:00.002Z2008-10-02T14:40:56.656Z

Snippet from a DIY translated marketing document I unwisely accepted to "proofread" in just a few hours:Desorientated customer (difficulties tospot in the aisle) It's 6000 words of this.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-43623171337186425012008-10-01T07:14:00.004Z2008-10-02T08:06:29.188Z

Dear Client lady,You dare to return to me a once-beautiful piece of carefully-crafted prose, now sadly sullied with the profuse side-notes of "tracked changes". The person making these changes (Milene, whoever you are, you are an idiot) is clearly deluded in their ability to converse in the Queen's English. Whilst I accept that clients come in all guises, and that jobs must be accepted from any

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-48631813138897829732008-09-11T00:16:00.007Z2008-09-11T01:04:37.404Z

I sometimes wonder whether depression originates in nature or nurture. These thoughts tend to happen more during low moments- lucidity of thought coupled with utter absence of ability to actually achieve anything combine into forcing the mood somewhat downwards. Even more so at times like these; in the midst of this eighteen month winter I feel like a small insect that has been pinned to a

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-59199281239924860592008-07-22T08:54:00.003Z2008-07-22T09:07:46.448Z

I know, I know I have been remiss.The truth is that I have been busier this academic year than I ever thought it possible to be again after the toddler x3 years. All three children doing different things at the same time, senior school application processes for Dill, absolutely loads of work in, the garden running riot, the guinea pigs running more riot (we now have about 10 pregnancies courtesy

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-48913649022707539942008-06-17T20:42:00.002Z2008-06-17T21:00:11.010Z

My father comes for the weekend.He climbs the staircase one step at a time, counting as he goes.(my father's earliest memory is of the underside of a heavy utilitarian oak dining table as he his mother and grandmother listen to the bombs raining down on Wimbledon station a few hundred yards away)My father is suddenly older. His joints ache. He has slowed downHe draws level with me; I am

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-54263841020331476512008-05-29T09:38:00.002Z2008-05-29T09:50:14.757Z

Ever so slightly flaky neighbour over the road believes that we all go through periods of chaos.Whilst I wouldn't subscribe to such hippy claptrap, I have to say that the fates are trying to tell us something about chickens.After the spectacular carnage inflicted on our flock about a month ago, I put some eggs left over from the hens that bought it in the incubator.The result was four fluffy

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-7433186604359790522008-05-19T07:42:00.002Z2008-05-19T07:44:01.352Z

Gosh.It appears that I may.actually.have.the.day.off.Right, so what do I do now? (bearing in mind that I'm expecting some more work in later today.) I'm at a bit of a loss. There's that weeding...

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-87063230628081874972008-05-14T12:08:00.002Z2008-05-14T12:12:37.356Z

"My life ambition is to commit genocide; failing that, I wouldn't mind murdering just one fox with my bare hands".Should I worry about him?The boy walked 35 miles in 28 hours last weekend, and was claiming by Monday evening that he could easily have done the 45 mile event. Am I bringing up an ubermensch or a braggard? (neither option especially appetising in the context).

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-43455642775353646392008-04-30T07:16:00.002Z2008-04-30T07:18:48.585Z

Lost five bloody chickens to a bloody fox this morning. I was woken up by the commotion, went outside with my rake and was in time to save one relatively unharmed from the fox. Sadly it died, presumably from shock, about ten minutes later. Ho hum. Chicken for supper it is then. Am really bloody cross. Wrists a little better over the last few days though.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-43678446492500609282008-04-24T12:53:00.003Z2008-04-24T14:32:45.193Z

We were completely out of fish so I went to the supermarket to restock the freezer.Having trawled around the aisles gathering together my shopping, I chose a till and deposited the whole lot on the belt.Till lady started ringing it all up. About two minutes into the process, she suddenly utters a muffled cry, jumps up, calls the supervisor, says "Can you take over please, quickly?" and

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-54415427308128982302008-04-14T16:35:00.002Z2008-04-14T16:39:11.840Z

A huge thumbs up to my friend Zee who completed the London Marathon yesterday despite a nasty fall early on. Her marathon story is on the fundraising page I just linked to- I just hope she hasn't wrecked her knee for ever.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-62417061844748059852008-04-07T06:08:00.003Z2008-04-07T06:16:13.302Z

It's been threatening for a while. Even before I took up the piano again a couple of months ago, my wrists would start playing up after long periods of work. And now I seem to be heading into full-blown RSI/ carpal tunnel syndrome territory. I have been neglecting my hands and arms: I have a terrible posture while working, I type with my wrists bent upwards into what ought to be an

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-653831379629544312008-04-01T10:09:00.002Z2008-04-01T10:11:13.308Z

There's something about my mother's house that makes me come over all limp, rebellious and surly. It has the same effect on my hair too.Also (crime of crimes!) there's no internet.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-38496570126744717832008-03-19T08:46:00.004Z2008-03-19T08:53:56.063Z

That just about sums up my sad little life over the last x months. On the plus side, it means that I can afford to just slightly more relaxed about house repossession and the children being politely but firmly requested to leave their schools.On the down side it means pretty much no social life for similar length of time, and (Gasp!) seriously curtailed blogging time.The good news is that my

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-5233513338011062522008-02-04T17:24:00.000Z2008-02-04T17:26:59.334Z

This site has been so badly translated, it's compulsive reading, I tell ya. Guys, get a proper translator in!You would not believe the number of school pupils who really cannot understand how their teacher knew they'd used a translation engine... Trust me, dear, it's a gift.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-12299722819304874912008-01-30T11:52:00.000Z2008-02-01T15:33:51.211Z

A plague is upon the house of Purple. For the first ever, Sim had three days off school while we waited to see if his scarily deep cough would re-merge or keep wending its merry way downwards. Thankfully, the pestilential blighter saw sense, and decided to go back to infect his throat, so we were spared the kind of emergency trip to hospital that my sister endured with her daughter three weeks

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-80732738771544952502008-01-25T10:16:00.001Z2008-01-25T10:49:15.865Z

Last week, on the day of my fortieth birthday, I had my first piano lesson in thirty years.And my new teacher is lovely, a very far cry from the deranged 700 yr old blind crones who taught my sister Henna and me simultaneously an eon ago, and whose blindness was made made all the more disturbing by the fact that they had extra-sensory powers of some kind (it was the only possible explanation),

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-1833273303807465672008-01-15T13:04:00.000Z2008-01-15T13:05:41.110Z

That's it.One is officially in one's mature years, at the moment of one's life. It all starts swinging back from hereonin, apparently.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-84758535390735112472008-01-14T09:31:00.000Z2008-01-14T09:44:20.024Z

Purple Towers Birthday Week started today, with the Boff arriving at what he fondly imagines to be the grown-up magic number of 40. He is soooo much older than me. I said as much to him this morning as I roughly awoke him at 6:50 by shouting "Tea!" in his ear and helping him sit up in bed. Strangely he did not look overjoyed. Th dog decided to honour the start of Birthday Week by leaving two

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-24771238501332131672008-01-07T21:12:00.000Z2008-01-07T21:30:04.591Z

Top of the evening to you all, and a Happy New Year. I have been derelecting my duties here, so I thought I'd pop in and give the old place a dust-down.This year (2008) has been interesting so far, what with having had no functioning boiler since New Year's Eve, anything up to 15 people in the house at any one time, small nieces going down with pneumonia (better now after three days of intra

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-11826557089968795762007-12-04T22:39:00.000Z2007-12-04T22:40:01.586Z

Once upon a time there was a lovely sausage called Carol

Anoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-48025793820543920782007-11-30T23:51:00.000Z2007-11-30T23:55:35.923Z

It's coming to a pretty pass when three months' worth of posts still fit onto the one page.Also my hoster (is that what you call them?) emailed me to say that some swine had broken into my server and messed around with my site, so if you notice anything untoward, please tell me... If you notice it here that is. Although obviously if you notice that your 76 yr old neighbour has been sitting very

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-5110138797075007582007-11-14T14:03:00.000Z2007-11-14T14:04:58.755Z

I'm not snubbing you all, I promise. I just seem to have lost my mojo. Temporarily I hope.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-35090124181636847232007-10-29T00:12:00.000Z2007-10-29T00:15:01.480Z

Right. I've been working for so long at my computer today (document just gone - hooray!) that I've actually started to see rodents scampering in corners just out of my line of vision. Maybe our house actually is is in the grip of fierce dormice, or maybe I just need some sleep. I'll have option 2 please, Bob.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-63760684056076850752007-10-27T16:53:00.000Z2007-10-27T17:17:19.173Z

A very long time ago, with a few hours to kill on the day in June that an African pimp of children attempted to entice me into his shady game, I strolled into a university in Paris to see what I'd be missing if I went back to university in Britain. This was in the days before security wrenched all the fun out of wondering into establishments in which one was not if fact a student.Pushing my way

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-56880013232166441262007-10-17T22:36:00.000Z2007-10-17T22:40:38.638Z

There is something about flies buzzing around a room that makes it unquiet. Even the laziest of buzzes, from a blow fly barely clearing the floor, sets my nerves on edge. I don't think I am especially highly-strung, but the continual activity, the senseless the gyrating and knocking against windows and lampshades, just makes me want to murder and smash every last one of 'em that gets into my

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-35494777816561078422007-10-12T09:39:00.000Z2007-10-12T09:42:49.948Z

Am not entirely certain where I've been, or what I've been doing that was so pressing I couldn't come on here to tell you about it. I reckon I've just been lacking communicativeness (is that even a real word?).I have done stuff in the last month, honest. Quite a lot of stuff really. I want to get back in the saddle but am unsure where to start. So ask me a question and I'll reply. Possibly

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-10878370043044091672007-09-14T12:12:00.000Z2007-09-14T12:20:30.297Z

Well that was a fun week. We spent (mostly the Boff, but me too latterly as it is a foul job and probably in contravention of the Human Rights Act) the weekend crawling around in the 18 inch gap under the floorboards pushing foul sheeps' wool into the gaps between joists and thanking our lucky stars it wasn't rock wool, Dill went back to school in her new and improved school building, which

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-39200151582843754082007-09-13T21:32:00.000Z2007-09-13T21:33:39.424Z

Ah well, so I kind of accidentally let my domain name expire while I was under the floor. It could happen to anyone.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-39338539474545815352007-09-04T10:49:00.000Z2007-09-04T10:50:58.523Z

I have just ordered 170kg of sheeps' wool. Why?

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-41289426189810649292007-09-02T09:07:00.000Z2007-09-02T09:34:23.963Z

1) "Whoever said that chickens weren't clever?" Thus spake The Boff as he returned from witnessing our birds fluttering onto the roof of the coop, jumping onto the branch of an overhanging for tree, shuffling sideways until over the new 6 foot chicken wire fence we built on Thursday evening to reach their favourite roosting tree on the other side. They learned to do that in one day. Not to

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-85560397854661193612007-08-29T20:59:00.000Z2007-09-01T08:53:07.418Z

OK, so. What I didn't tell you because I didn't want to hear any horror stories, is that back in April we decided that our superannuated Ford Galaxy Freddy would probably not survive our projected holiday down to the Pyrenees and back this summer, given his alarming tendency to over-rev at traffic lights, roundabouts and whilst merely parking. Using the power steering, having recently driven

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-4358555344671257002007-08-29T07:48:00.001Z2007-08-29T07:48:43.376Z

So, anyone want to hear The Saga of the Car?

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-77345766123212775272007-08-22T15:14:00.000Z2007-08-22T15:20:28.466Z

It's just as well we didn't realise that Thumb was playing host to rather more beings than we'd bought tickets on the ferry for, and that we were thus able to cross the channel with a clear conscience.It is a pity that the realisation that we were not in fact merely 6 on our jolly hols, but 6 + a few dozen and their progeny, and that this realisation did not happen until after we had shared a 7x7

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-85792180442819125332007-08-09T11:40:00.000Z2007-08-09T11:44:52.926Z

So.We are in France.All children dropped off and picked up appropriately, bar one. We fetch Sim on Saturday from his current abode on the south west coast with a delightful mixed South American-French family.I shall be out of blog contact for the next two-ish weeks, so toodle-oo. Should I tell you about the demented ranting email including the word b**ch that I received from my delightful

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-16281520550417733712007-08-01T20:57:00.000Z2007-08-01T21:28:01.186Z

You know what? I'm bleddy exhausted, after 6 weeks of being the old woman who lived in a shoe, and nigh on three months of work barely interrupted by weekends.* Got nephew and niece Trumpkin and Dwarflet here until next week**, and then we once again leave the animals to the tender mercies of our most townie friends*** (they of fish-tank slaughter fame) before vamoosing off to southern France/

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-3228204725432786532007-07-27T21:23:00.000Z2007-07-27T21:40:26.299Z

Every once in a while, I get a sudden realisation that I am in fact rearing the Spawn of Satan.Glossing over Sim's effortless confusing a few years of a balloon artist used to dealing with children, with his requests for animals impossible to make with any number of balloons, we move on to exhibit x:Time: This afternoon, day of Dill's birthday.Place: In townScene: One of those horrible bear

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-20903768827714470572007-07-23T15:10:00.000Z2007-07-23T15:17:24.915Z

Can't stop- I am at my mother's in Normandy for two days, where my sister's broadband modem now speaks amicably with Mildred Mac and thus enables me to waste the time I should be spending doing the two 3800 word translations (yes, each) I appear inadvertently to have picked up whilst claiming to be too busy to do any work, both of which need doing for Wednesday, although thankfully they are for

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-86878749948299918952007-07-16T14:58:00.000Z2007-07-16T15:09:46.128Z

I am on the warpath and furious about an incident which I will explain later in more detail. In the meantime, let me run a little scenario past you all, and ask you a question that you must answer off the top of your head.Imagine that you bought something from abroad, say the US, to a value of £29 or just over $50. Imagine that the mail service, let's call it Moyal Rail, collects duty on your

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-59887505408134180872007-07-11T23:14:00.000Z2007-07-11T23:19:22.309Z

Sim turned 14 on Tuesday. Since I still remember pretty much every detail of the week that followed his birth, it astonishes me that he will be voting, driving and going off to university in about 4 years' time, that he is now closer to manhood than babyhood. It's certainly making me think, in a slightly maudlin way, about how fast time goes by. But then, would you expect anything but maudlin

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-52708211026976957782007-07-04T08:39:00.001Z2007-07-04T08:49:35.123Z

One day about 8 years ago, on a fleeting visit from the busy self-righteous Surrey town I lived in to southern France, I glanced up out of the window of the car we were travelling in. In the middle of a mown field, two little girls in floral frocks were having a tea party on top of a pile of bales of straw, complete with little plastic chairs and dolls, oblivious to the world around them. I

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-80031874741133077822007-06-28T07:16:00.000Z2007-06-28T07:37:30.620Z

Following consultation yesterday with one who knows about these things, I have decided to stop nagging Sim about some of his most simmish traits of behaviour, the ones that are driving me absolutely bloody nuts at the moment. I may not be nagging or getting cross about them from now on, but nobody said anything about not getting my own back passive-aggressive stylee by reporting them here.So

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-5277687321631194752007-06-23T13:46:00.000Z2007-06-23T14:15:32.441Z

Yeah, I know, I know. It's been a while. All I can blame is the demon work. Call me a simple soul, but I just can't seem to handle work life and real life at the same time. Or maybe the work is just a really good excuse for abdicating responsibility for everything else.Anyway, I've had loads of work, as previously mentioned, but also the arrival of the two delightful young Spanish guests from

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-79571368740442162702007-06-11T14:54:00.000Z2007-06-11T15:09:39.013Z

This is something new. I am sitting on the seafront in Exmouth, watching Sim take a windsurfing lesson, and blogging wirelessly from my car. There is, inexplicably, an open Estuary wireless network. Maybe for sailors?Anyway, am a smite pissed off as I was hoping to use the next two hours to work-did I mention that the gods of self-employment have been smiling upon me and touching my head, in a

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-25650344714946149662007-06-06T09:29:00.000Z2007-06-07T13:14:43.970Z

I keep forgetting to say that if anybody out would like to rent a house in rural Normandy (France), that can sleep 4-6 people (4 in a strictly civilised fashion, up to 6 if 2 people don't mind sofa beds), is absolutely beautiful, recently completely renovated, woodstoves, all mod cons including separate laundry room, one bathroom one shower room, very high ceilings, with a glorious view....and

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-16466554747431630742007-06-04T11:27:00.000Z2007-06-04T11:50:30.591Z

Quote for the day:"It must be quite weird to see a bishop bearing down on you with an egg-timer."

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-21256618064793055132007-06-01T05:06:00.000Z2007-06-01T05:53:53.183Z

The piggies weren't unexpected. I took two of the female to "visit" a boar some time ago. As Cocoa gradually swelled to the size of a football, and became increasingly immobile, I presumed that she was near her time, and brought her indoors.That was how I missed the birth of the first litter, as the svelte Thelma, whom I had assumed was a couple of weeks behind her sister, quietly produced two

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-24734597149835899892007-05-31T10:01:00.000Z2007-05-31T10:05:41.952Z

1) Open box2) Plug in Airport Express3) Connect cable4) Open wireless connection on Mildred5) Surf net. Wirelessly. Without it crashing all the bloody time. Did I mention the wireless feature? And the remoteness?6) It works. Effortlessly. 5 minutes from postman delivering it to online. And most of that was opening the box without slitting my fingers off with the knife.I shall leave to others

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-19653954232077496492007-05-27T20:36:00.000Z2007-05-27T20:39:00.470Z

Life is full of small pleasures and victories.For example, managing at last to track down the source of the never-ending supply of fruit flies in the utility room: a bag of Jerusalem artichokes left to fester for several months (without a smell, it would seem) behind the laundry basket.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-6376832339595274722007-05-19T06:40:00.001Z2007-05-19T06:52:06.296Z

I'm sitting in a friends' guest bed blogging, keyed into their wireless network, marvelling at the sheer technology that makes such a thing possible from anywhere at all in their house. No need to crouch in the corridor, or creep to the best corner of the bedroom every time ones needs the internet. No, no, here you just click and go.I had to take our useless heap of cr@p of a wireless router

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-53830222017126962382007-05-17T16:15:00.000Z2007-05-17T16:18:26.825Z

I feel guilty- I have been neglecting The Pen most dretfully. I am very busy, with work and roof gully mending (what it is about working as a builder that turns the most independent of men into a two-year old?) and more baby creatures than we can shake a stick at (and believe me, it doesn't work, so don't bother...)Of which more anon.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-36215327381965800232007-05-02T12:03:00.000Z2007-05-02T12:04:56.489Z

I was just wondering yesterday why we were all so tired (and grumpy in some people's case), until I checked the calendar and realised that we hadn't had a single quiet day at home as a family since March 23rd. That would be it then.And there was me worrying about January being busy...

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-46643858816618950422007-05-01T06:22:00.000Z2007-05-01T06:24:44.104Z

If this April summer is the result of global warming, then bring on global warming, say I. It's been like California all month here (20-24C in the daytime, and sunny), and looks likely to carry on. It just makes my heart sing, weather like this.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-72310271425061560682007-04-27T14:13:00.000Z2007-04-27T14:19:09.014Z

I've a horrible feeling I may be starting to stick in the mud.We're about to go and spend a weekend camping in a field and eating communally and playing our violas (in the Boff's case), and...I quite seriously contemplated taking along my stove-top cappuccino machine and the camping gas stove so as not to miss out on my daily fix.This is seriously against any one of my principles and must stop

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-34105001018721426952007-04-24T12:00:00.000Z2007-04-24T12:43:49.887Z

A few months ago, I hinted at the frustration and downright hostility I experience when exposed to my mother for more than a few seconds.I can't explain it, except to say that maybe this is what happens when parents force too much responsibility onto a child too young, and then try to pull age and rank when it suits them. A lot of my irreverence stems from that, I think. It's an attitude that

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-55050283595560377462007-04-22T17:34:00.000Z2007-04-22T17:38:06.061Z

May a dozen over-excited 12 year old girls be upon your house for an entire day and an entire night!May you decide that camping and spooky tales and marshmallow toasting be a good idea!May every one of your untameable and indistiguishable guests fall out with at least four others present, and set up such a caterwauling as to make a yellow dog bark!

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-53749652080214167882007-04-20T16:31:00.000Z2007-04-20T16:48:19.868Z

It's not that I'm trying to gloat, or to make those of you who may still be struggling with sub-zero temperatures and snow, or melting slush, feel bad, but if you need an explanation of where I've been since we got back on Sunday, all you need to know is that one of our farmer neighbours made hay today. (Come on, it's not too often that we can claim summer weather here in South-West England,

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-27667941477608915572007-04-18T12:37:00.000Z2007-04-18T12:56:24.863Z

So we went to France, to see my parents, for the first time in 18 months. Persephone was there too, also for the first time in a similar number of months. In her case this was due to Stupid Evil Ex having sequestrated her passports since August 2005. In our case, to the lack of money necessary to exit this horrible little island.It escaped neither my nor Persephone's notice that the only

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-52019469891325457602007-03-31T13:21:00.000Z2007-03-31T13:23:05.077Z

I am off today, to a place where they might or might not be Internet. Mildred MacApple is going with me, but quality may be patchy around here for the next couple of weeks. While we are away, Hen will turn 12, which surprises me somewhat.See you...soon. Maybe sooner than you think...

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-68110593371958795392007-03-30T21:18:00.000Z2007-03-30T21:29:18.217Z

I left the house to walk the dog, cramming a piece of dark chocolate in my mouth as I locked the front door.He was standing in the driveway, waving a metal detector up and down."D'you know where yer stopcock is, luv?", he asked."I beg your pardon?", I quipped."Yer stopcock, d'you know where it is?", he insisted. "Water board. We're going to reline the pipes.""Well", said I, "I fondly imagined

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-60998176256427398282007-03-29T09:58:00.000Z2007-03-29T10:04:29.348Z

There was quite a nice Georgian house on the way to Dill's school. It was made of yellow brick three storeys high, with dormers in the roof, and many evenly-spaced sash windows across its façade. It stood in a field, surrounded by green green grass. For 18 months I caught tantalising glimpses of it out of the corner of my eye as I drove past.Then, one day, I rode as a passenger past the gate

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-65904161086570760482007-03-27T18:10:00.000Z2007-03-27T18:11:52.506Z

Today I did a good trade: 8 fertile lavender araucana eggs for 3 beautiful lavender plants.It seems fitting, somehow. Now all to do is find a suitable trade for a noisy midget cockerel.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-8003463802142230182007-03-26T07:30:00.000Z2007-03-26T07:42:00.101Z

Wednesday: Manage to get Hen to return to gymnastics for the first time in 7 months.Thursday: Drop pedometer down the loo. Two friends announce their marriage has hit a rocky patch. Spend part of day on phone. Ma-in-law to supper.Friday: Exhausted and unwell. Spend part of day in bed, other part pottering around garden.Saturday: Dill horn lesson. Sim orchestral rehearsal. Prepare packed

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-31625479957685988052007-03-20T10:28:00.001Z2007-03-20T18:46:30.789Z

It seems that even here, in deepest darkest Devon, we are not immune to the times.Sim and Hen, along with their friends Alex (14) and Anastasia (12), also siblings, were attacked on their way from school to the bus stop yesterday afternoon by three youths, possibly as young as themselves. It happened in a quiet, relatively affluent street of terraced houses, that according to our neighbour used

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-26983683851890937852007-03-18T10:02:00.000Z2007-03-18T10:19:32.042Z

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-29558257888120696262007-03-16T20:39:00.000Z2007-03-16T20:42:12.774Z

I am very fed up today. When I'm less fed up, I'll come back and tell you why. In the meantime, I think I'll go to bed with "Human Traces".

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-85103062718117374302007-03-15T10:12:00.000Z2007-03-15T10:48:16.575Z

We thought we'd cracked the egg problem, we really did.I proposed an eggciting business venture to Sim the other day: that he set up a stall at the end of garden, and that he organise the eggs every morning, wiping them if necessary, dating them, and placing them in the box he'd sorted out.In exchange, I suggested that he keep the proceeds, which at the price I was suggesting for the eggs at the

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-75237508415428447572007-03-08T10:05:00.000Z2007-03-08T10:11:59.574Z

Dill is not at school this morning, since she is off to a play in Torquay later, for which trip I am being a chaperone. Since I don't want to make the 6 mile trip three times in 3 hours, she is staying at home this morning. Which is nice for me, partly.As I write this, she is getting cross at not being able to hit a note on the horn, and is kicking her music across the room. Apparently the

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-19124092102946813282007-03-07T21:12:00.000Z2007-03-09T13:37:49.840Z

I've forgotten to tell you about Sim's incredible pain threshold. He's never one to moan much or be especially weedy. It was a surprise therefore when ten days ago, an hour before he was due to go to his friend Duardo's house, he complained that he could hardly walk because he'd done something to his foot.It was Duardo's birthday lunch, and they were going to spend the day damming a stream and

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-1172920338568340392007-03-03T11:10:00.000Z2007-03-03T11:12:18.943Z

It seems that some of our very, very old friends are turning 40 these days. Accordingly, we're hotfooting off to London today to commiserate with a pair of them.You will find us in a drunken stupor.

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-1172773368740179532007-03-01T18:03:00.000Z2007-03-01T18:24:33.233Z

Dill: "...so I need to go on the internet and type in "Tamagochi Cheese""Me: "What? Tamagochi CHEESE???"Dill: (audible eye roll) "No, Mummy, Tamagochi Cheats...***Dill: "So Tiger's tamagochi came round to mine, and did a poo, and now they have babies- twins! One each. One lives with Sasha*, and one lives with Molly**"Me: *Just what are they trying to teach you?* "Right, so in Tamagochi world,

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821101.post-1172699246189702062007-02-28T21:40:00.000Z2007-02-28T21:47:26.190Z

Oh, and please, please visit this page and answer their stupid names poll. Yes, in East Devon, we're really all called John and Mary, and that's the way it should stay. We won't have any fancy outside influences, thankyouverymuch.I'm really hoping there are enough liberal, live and let live types out there willing to vote against the current results (standing at the moment at an uncompromising

ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13804747268326860662noreply@blogger.com