Allie Brosh - Hyperbole and a Half

The picture above is clickable, and will take you to Allie's blog :)

(Oops, sorry, it's not clickable - didn't work. Try clicking here instead!)

I know I've mentioned this blog before, but I just want to highlight it again. It is the most stupendously funny and original and inventive and creative and ridiculous blog I've ever read, and I love it to bits ( - alright, I've only being reading blogs for about five months, but I've read one or two). Allie Brosh makes me want to completely change the way I blog. She makes me want to strive to be funnier, and to look at the world in a completely different way. Does she see the world in cartoons? Is everything in her life completely mental? When I've read one of her posts, wiped the tears of hysterical joy from my eyes, and done some shaking-of-my-head-in-complete-awe at the amount of work and love and pride that goes into one of them, I feel completely inadequate. I feel shamed by the fact that I am not funny like Allie. I want to BE Allie! Allie is my idol! Allie, Allie, ALLIE!

I am not alone with this overwhelming feeling of idol-worship. If you read the comments that Allie gets after each and every post, you can see that many people adore her and want to imitate her. Many people wish they could use Paint as skilfully as our beloved Allie. She makes us want to draw, and so we have a go, and feel even more inadequate, because it takes us about five minutes to find the right buttons to draw a circle exactly the right way. We wonder whether Allie takes five minutes over a circle, or whether she can lay down a perfectly detailed and hilarious picture in the time it has taken us to draw our circle. Then we look at our circle again, and realise that even this little bit of nothing is rubbish compared to one of Allie's circles. Then we wonder if Allie has better software than us? I only have Word on my MacBook, and if I want to draw pictures I should probably get something better. Word Art on the Mac is rubbish. I have just drawn this to illustrate my point:

See what I mean? This doesn't even look anything like me! I had a problem with the hair, and this is the best I could do. You can't draw freehand in Word on the Mac. I need something that has virtual brushes. This little picture took me about five hours to draw. Alright, that's not actually true - I'm not so completely incompetent. But it did take longer than I would have liked.

So, I hope you take a look at Hyperbole and a Half. If you like it, then I'm glad that I brought something into your life that made you smile. If you don't like it, then what the heebies is up with you?!

I would like to swear as Allie does. Her swearing rocks! But I don't think it would seem right on my blog - I think it might possibly offend my readers, who I believe have delicate sensibilities and are easily shocked (I wonder if I could get up to a thousand followers by Christmas? How do people GET that many followers?! Do I need to advertise? Should I do a leaflet drop?)

Have a happy day friendies :)

Thunderstorms and holidays, and palpitations

Mmmm. Can you smell that? There's newness in the air. It's thick with it today. Some days feel like that, don't they? It's not to do with that heavy and oppressive kind of atmosphere that comes before a storm though, you know, when people say 'ooh, it's close today' (- is that a high- or low-pressure weather system? I can never remember). No, that's not what it feels like at all, because there was a tremendous storm in the night and that cleared the air. It's still warm today, but it's not sticky anymore. But anyway, that's not what I mean. I mean that there's a feeling of potential lingering around here. When this feeling is in the air I frequently get butterflies in my tummy, and I get little palpitations, and I get a bit sweaty as well, and I feel quite nervous, but I have absolutely no idea what it is that I'm anticipating! Very strange. I often have days when I'm getting the kids ready for school and I have a grin on my face, and I'm in a heightened state of excitement, and then I realise that I don't know why I'm feeling like that. I do not know what is coming, but I'm sure something is.

Am I going a little nuts?

The storm woke us up in the night, and it was quite exciting. The rain was absolutely hammering on the windows, and I had to close them to keep out a little of the noise. And then, even with my eyes closed, I could tell there was lightning before I heard the thunder. It was unbelievably bright - I just wish it had arrived earlier in the evening so I could have watched it out of the window. But at 4am I thought it was probably best to try to get back to sleep. And the thunder was brilliant, he he! I love it. I could never really understand that scene in The Sound of Music, when all the kids have to be sung to because they're afraid of the storm, because I've always enjoyed a good show of thunder and lightning. It's exhilerating! I hope we get another storm soon - but during the day would be better so that I can watch it with the kids :) And possibly even go out for a play in it, if it's warm enough. They slept through it last night. Shame.

I have just booked a holiday this morning. We're going to stay in the middle of Alnwick in Northumberland. We stayed up that way a couple of summers ago, in a caravan in Berwick upon Tweed. Alnwick is where the 'A' is on this map. Berwick is a few miles above that. I didn't want to stay in a caravan again, as they were pretty grotty and smelled of old food. So I've booked a little terraced house for a fortnight. It's very small, but it's still bigger than a caravan. And it's right in the middle of the village of Alnwick, which I understand is very beautiful. We visited Alnwick Castle, and the Alnwick Garden last time, but didn't get chance to look at the village. We will feel like we know the area pretty well this time, so we'll be able to make the best of our fortnight and see all the things we didn't get to see when we visited before. I'm really looking forward to it - it's going to be so relaxing, but lots of fun too. The beach is only 3 or 4 miles away, and it's golden and clean and big and oooooooooooooh!

It's good to explore this area, as it's a place we could move to. After the Berwick holiday we all wanted to live up in the North East, we loved it so much. And there is a power station up there, so Kev could get a job relatively easily. There are not many places that I would move so readily to in this country, but the North East, close to Scotland, is one of them. Lovely people, incredible scenery, LOADS to do. And plenty of fascinating history: the whole region is dripping with stories from centuries past.

Eek! Can't wait. I think the booking of the holiday must account for most of the feeling of potential and excitement today.

But that's not wholly it - there's something else.

The release of Eclipse on the 9th of July? Quite possibly. If Sazzle gets the next two books of the Twilight Saga read, we're going to see Eclipse together. Mmmmmmmm - yummy, Edward!

Also, I've just seen the teaser trailer for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I. Oh. My. Goodness. That looks awesome. Released in November. It could be that that's making me sweaty ...

Or perhaps I'm misinterpreting the palpitations and butterflies - perhaps they are caused by the feeling of motivation that I am experiencing right now. Perhaps at the back of my mind, constantly, is the fact that I'm well into the writing of the second half of my book, and that perhaps I only have one third of the first draft left to write! It could, indeed, be that. Cor! Still a lot of work to do though, even after I've got to the end. I will still have to go right back to the beginning and go through it with a fine toothed comb, not once, maybe not twice, but possibly three or four times. Mmm, satisfying :)

Well, lots of things in the air. I will get on and enjoy them, whatever they are. Afternoon, all.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Almost forgot - I've got a Stag Do to organise as well! Pants. Better get on with that as well.

Immortality

An ouroboros tattoo

ouroborosnounvariant spelling of uroboros .uroboros |ˌ(y)oŏrəˈbôrəs| |ˈjʊərə(ʊ)ˈbɒrəs| |ˈjʊrəˈbɔrəs| (also ouroboros)nouna circular symbol depicting a snake, or less commonly a dragon, swallowing its tail, as an emblem of wholeness or infinity.
So I have this thing about immortality. Perhaps most people do. I don't go mad to read about vampires and other immortal beings constantly, but one of the things I do enjoy about vampires is that they get to live forever, mostly. I can sympathise with Voldemort, because he wanted to achieve immortality - I think I probably would be more like Voldemort than Harry. Or perhaps I'd be more like Nicholas Flamel, and achieve my immortality by less macabre means than the Dark Lord - drinking an elixir of life would probably be preferrable to killing people in order to split my soul.

It's one of the things that makes me the most sad, knowing that we have to die, and that we get such a short time to play in this life. I don't know whether there is any kind of life after death - I very much doubt it, I find the concept of a human soul very difficult to swallow - but I dearly wish that there was. It's a horrible and sad thought that the world will continue without us after we die, hurtling towards its own death that lies a few billion years in the future. I wish I could stick around for all of those years and find out how the story ends. Was there a Dr Who episode in which he witnessed Earth's last day? Well, I would love to be there for that (Earth's last day, not the Dr Who episode). I think I'd like to be like an ancient and wise librarian, and be there by the side of our world's death bed, to make sure that everything that had ever been written down was kept safe. It's never a pleasant thought to have, that of knowing that one day everything we have ever done or created will be gone. It will become star dust again. Although, at the same time, it's a beautiful thought. That we exist at all is incredible, like a brief and beautiful flash of brilliance in time and space.

I was thinking of immortality when I was reading my book, The Midwife Trilogy by Jennifer Worth, last night. The characters she writes about in the book, all Cockneys who lived in the 1950s, were all real people. It's not a work of fiction, though it's written in the style of one. But I was noticing how the people she writes about, who touched her life in some way, come to life when I read them. I see those people as clearly as if I had known them myself, the writing is so vivid and alive. I've never cried so much over a book as this one, some of the stories are so tragic. That made me think about immortality. I can't live forever really, but my words can bring me back to life after I'm dead. Someone might read what I've written and be able to see and hear me for a little while, and I'll be alive again, in some small way. I don't know why, but that feels important to me. Even if the only people who read my words in decades to come are my children, and maybe my grandchildren and so on, the thought of that makes me very happy. I don't want my fifteen minutes of fame, because it doesn't really mean anything, not really. I just like it when I write something and it makes someone smile. I would like to think that someone, even just one person, way in the future might read something about me and might say to themselves 'I wish I'd known her'.

That'll do :)

What are you looking at?!

Morning all. The weekend's here again :) Blimey they come around fast sometimes, eh? This is what my hair looks like right now - and d'you know what? I'm loving it today! Yes, I know, I've been hating it since the day I did it, but today it looks nice. I think it's the new hair wax I bought - for the first time, perhaps ever, TV advertising worked on me! I saw this matte wax on an ad, and almost immediately drove off to get some from Asda. I've always hated that you can tell by the greasy matted mess that I am wearing some kind of product on my hair. Now it's much less noticeable, but the fluffiness is kept under control still :) Very good. And you can see my natural colour properly too - it's got quite a bit of blonde in it. So I'm actually thinking that I might keep it like this for a bit.

Hang on a minute - I didn't come on here to write about my hair!!! Not at all. I was going to write about some much more philosophical and intelligent stuff to do with multiple personalities!

So, I was thinking the other day about my different selves. Now I'm wondering whether I've actually written all about this before. Mmm. Well, no matter. I'll write about it again.

I was thinking about how the world sees us, and how that doesn't necessarily correspond with the way we see ourselves. I can remember a lot of people from the year above me at senior school, but hardly any from the year below. But I would not expect to be recognised by anyone but my own friends from school, because the way I saw myself was as a very shy wallflower-type. I've always been pretty sure that I blended into the background and was all but invisible. But this may not actually be the case. When you're at senior school, you very often look up to those in the years above you, yes? They're a little bit like celebrities in the way that they seem so lofty and aloof, and the people in the lower years are in awe of them. I always assumed that the girls in the lower years (no boys at my school) looked at my friends in that way, but that they didn't notice my existence. But I was recognised by someone the other day - she was in a year below me at school. It shocked me, more than a little, because it made me think that I probably look at my teenage self in completely the wrong way. I think I remember, more so, what I felt like when I was talking to people, rather than what I actually talked about. I can remember my heart-rate accelerating during conversations, I can remember struggling to get my words out, I can remember my cheeks flaming, I can remember wanting the ground to swallow me up, I can remember walking away from someone knowing that I had just humiliated myself into the dust by stumbling over a sentence about simple directions to the school office! But perhaps what I don't remember, and should, is that I didn't really stumble over my words all that much, that I only felt those feelings because I was afraid of sounding like an idiot, but that I actually never did sound like one. Perhaps I should remember that I often managed to hide my true feelings of absolute terror and mortification most of the time, and that perhaps no-one ever really guessed exactly how shy I was. I was chatting to a friend from Uni a few months ago and mentioned how I'd been the shy retiring type when I was in Aberystwyth, and he just about fell off his chair laughing, because he didn't remember me that way at all. To some people I came across as confident! Confident!! Me!!!

I have bags of confidence now, but I never really felt sure of myself then. I mean, I was much less shy at Uni than I'd ever been before, and remember thinking things like 'this is it, I'm really not shy anymore, I've done it!' But since then I've grown in confidence unbelievably, since having my children and feeling the need to have my voice heard and having things in my life that are important enough to fight for. I can't think of a situation in which I wouldn't be able to speak up if I wanted or needed to now.

But I was also thinking about different aspects of our personalities that have nothing to do with shyness. We change ourselves - probably subconsciously most of the time - depending on who we are talking to, don't we? I mean, not everyone does, of course. There are lots of people who pride themselves on always being the same with everyone. I'm not one of those splendid people - but I enjoy trying on different Lindas. I like that my accent changes ever so slightly when I'm talking to my friends from different parts of the country/world. I like that Sarah-jane makes me talk in ever such a slightly more posh accent :) I like that I'm very broad Northern when I'm talking to my grandad Wilf and my grandma Freda. I like that I get a little bit Welsh when I'm in Wales, and a little bit Scottish when I'm in Scotland. And when I lived in the US I perfected my generic American accent! I like that when I'm talking to certain mums in the playground I behave myself and act like a respectable mummy, but when I talk to other mums in the playground I'm very naughty and act like a teenager. I like that when I'm with Kev or Noomski I am almost completely myself. I like that when I'm with my dad I turn into a school pupil again and ask him lots of questions about plants and The Nature as if he's my science teacher :) I like that when I'm with my mum I get to talk about all the stuff that no-one else wants to listen to! Different Lindas for different people. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. It's not about not being true to myself, it's about being comfortable with the different aspects of my personality, and being happy to suppress some of them from time to time, safe in the knowledge that I can let them out to play later.

The other side of this though is that people think they know you inside out, when in fact they don't really know you at all. Ah-ha! Some people might think I'm lovely, but I can be as bitchy as anyone. Some people might think I'm probably not worth talking to because I don't seem to have much to say, but I'm actually just watching them because I find them fascinating and don't feel the need to talk much myself. Some people might notice that I'm watching them, and might be a bit disturbed by my fascination with them, and maybe even a little worried that I'm going to stalk them, but I might actually just be staring into the space where their face happens to be because I'm finding their conversation really boring! Some people might think you're very stupid because you once said something that was factually incorrect. Some people might think you're very clever because you've used a few big words in conversation with them. Some people might think you're ignorant because you ignored everybody and scowled a lot when you dropped the kids off at school one morning, but you might have just had a headache and a lot on your mind. Some people might think everything's rosy in your life because you smile all the time, and always have supportive things to say to everyone, but really you might be depressed as anything and just not want anyone to know. The point here being that no-one really ever knows what's going on inside someone else's head, and aren't we clever beings that we can be thinking things that have absolutely no correlation with what our facial expressions are saying? (That's a very convoluted sentence, sorry!) It doesn't mean that we're being two-faced though - we're perfectly entitled to hide part of ourselves from everyone else if we want to.

I think I've exhausted that particular complicated topic for now. I have achieved absolutely no clarity on the subject of multiplicity in personalities. Anyone else want to say anything?

Painted toenails

Did not achieve much at all this weekend. Sometimes that's just the way it is, and I'm not going to beat myself up about it. Most weekends we do something nice, go for a long walk or something, or just spend some good time playing. But now and again I'm a little burnt out, and I just have a lazy couple of days. When Kev came home from work on Saturday Thomas dobbed me in:

Kev: What've you been doing today?

Thomas: Well, actually, Mummy's been pretty lazy.

Kev: Oh yeah?

Thomas: Yeah. She stayed in bed until lunch time, and we were starving, and didn't have our lunch until tea time.

Kev: (stifling a snigger!) Oh, right.

I must just say that I did not stay in bed until lunch time. That would be neglect, I think. No, I stayed in bed until half past eight, and then got up and spent a lot of the day cleaning up my children's mess that had been created in the half hour before I got up. But I did sit down for a couple of hours and watch Billy Elliot with them. But he's a cheeky chuff that young Thomas, because we played some nice games together. We played Usborne football snap (this link won't last forever because it's from a shop, so click on it now if you don't want to miss it!), and we played in the garden a lot, doing much wrestling and chucking of the giant birthing ball!

This is not me on this particular birthing ball! This is just a picture from Google. Our birthing ball is blue, and it lives in the garden, and it was never used for 'birthing'! But it has been worth its money, because it has been used as a marvellous giant ball for throwing and catching, and also for knocking people over in a hilarious and non-hurting way :) James loves it the most and spends a lot of time asking for it to be thrown at him, and he fends it off using various karate moves that he has learned from watching Karate Kid, and Kung Fu Panda!

Oh, I did not explain my feet photo! That is a photo of my feet, yes. I'm brave to upload that photo, because I don't really like feet. I think I have quite nice feet myself, but I don't really like looking at other people's, even if they're nice. Feet that are horrid make me shudder*. If you ever see me shudder after I've just looked at your feet, please, don't take it personally, it's completely involuntary and it doesn't mean that your feet are hideous, it's just an irrational fear that I have! I don't know what it is that I think your feet might do to me, but I am afraid of them. I can handle mine and my children's, but that is all.

But I put the photo there anyway, because this is one thing I achieved this weekend - the painting of my toenails! Personal grooming is not something I take at all seriously. As long as I'm clean I'm not really bothered about any additional stuff that I should be doing. I'm too lazy. But I do like to keep my toenails nice when it's flip flop weather, and since I have these lovely new red Reefs I thought I should compliment them with some nice silver varnish. And of course, whenever I get the nail polish out the boys swarm around me and threaten to blob and smudge my nails until I promise to do theirs too. So Thomas has gone to school with silver finger- and toenails, and Matthew has gone to nursery with his done as well. James wanted to wait until another day, I'm not sure why. Thomas said that he wasn't bothered if his friends at school called him a girl because he's used to it. Fine. Good.

So that was really all I managed to accomplish this weekend. Oh, I did manage to achieve non-grumpiness for the whole two days :D Yes, that's a major achievement, and I give myself a pat on the back for that one. And we managed to achieve, as a team, the getting of nice presents for Kev for Fathers Day :) We got him a Wii game, a DVD, and some flowers! The flowers were Thomas's idea, and he was very pleased with himself :) What a fab little boy he is. The way he sees it, mums get flowers on Mothers Day, so dads should get them on their day too. Quite right. More men should receive flowers. I will put that in my manifesto when I run for Parliament as an independent candidate!

Here's to the start of a lovely week - cheers.

*shudder |ˈ sh ədər|verb [ intrans. ](of a person) tremble convulsively, typically as a result of fear orrepugnance : he shuddered with revulsion | [with infinitive ] figurativeI shudder to think of retirement. See note at shake .• (esp. of a vehicle, machine, or building) shake or vibrate deeply: the train shuddered and edged forward.• [usu. as adj. ] ( shuddering) (of a person's breathing) beunsteady, esp. as a result of emotional disturbance : he drew a deep, shuddering breath.nounan act of shuddering : the elevator rose with a shudder | figurative the peso's devaluation sent shudders through the market.PHRASESgive someone the shudders informal cause someone to feel repugnance or fear : it gives me the shudders to hear you use words like that.DERIVATIVESshudderingly |ˈʃəd(ə)rɪŋli| adverbshuddery |ˈʃəd(ə)ri| adjectiveORIGIN Middle English (as a verb): from Middle Dutchschūderen, from a Germanic base meaning ‘shake.’

Randomness (with a few Wiki-links to click on - enjoy)

(First paragraph to be read in the voice of Jessica from Twilight!!):

So, have you ever, like, done some stuff, sort of thing, and like, not realised you've done it, you know, and, like, when you realise that you've done something, you like, totally don't remember doing it, and so like, you wonder whether it was, like, a ghost that did it, or something, or maybe, like, magic, or something, you know?

(Normal voice now, ta.)

I do. All that time.

This morning, I arrived home from dropping the kids of at school (cycling - YES - cycling again, wonderful pain in the legs!), and went straight round the back to put my bike away, watered some pots in the garden that were looking dry despite having been heavily watered last night, then went to the front door to finally go inside the house. But when I put my hand in my left jeans pocket to take out my keys: GASP!!! They were not there! They were in my right jeans pocket!! How had this happened? I absolutely know that I put my keys in my left jeans pocket, because I remember checking that pocket before I closed the door (because I have locked myself out a few times!). I also remember having my hands in my pockets while I was standing at school, and I know the keys were in my left pocket then. So somewhere between school and home, I have either been got by a tremendously talented and non-malicious pickpocket who has taken my keys out of one pocket, and deposited them in the other; or I have transferred my keys from one pocket to the other with the powerful power of my subconscious MIND!!! It must be the last one, because I was on my bike all the way home. I would have noticed if a talented and non-malicious pickpocket had been on the back I think.

Glad I've cleared that one up. I feel better now, knowing that I can do telekinesis. I always suspected that I could, and now I know. I am Jean Gray.

More dangerously, I do get to places in the car and not remember how I got there. I might set off to my mum's house, and arrive there a short time later, not know which route I took or even whether there were any other cars on the road. I would have no clue as to whether I stopped for any red lights, or if I killed any small animals that had run out into the road. Very dangerous. I know I am not alone in this, but I suspect - and I don't mean to generalise, or be sexist at all - that it might be a female thing. I have heard other ladies mention this strange and dangerous tendency to go into a sort of semi-catatonic state whilst driving, but I've never heard a man mention it. Perhaps the men are just lying about it though, so that they can say women are worse drivers. Or maybe it's just dizzy people in general, like me.

So anyway:

COME ON ENGLAND!!!!!!!!!!!

(11 exclamation marks there, for the 11 England players on the pitch at any one time! - oh, and another one there for Capello.)

Very excited about the match tonight. We are watching it at home, hopefully on the projector screen if I can work out how to turn the projector on, and how to open the screen. Hmm. Shouldn't be too difficult, but as we know in this house from previous World Cups, things rarely go to plan when it comes to projectors and screens! So we might be just watching it on the telly - either way, it's going to be exciting. The football's the main attraction of course - but what we love about the World Cup, more than any other tournaments or single matches, is that it unifies people. Yes, I know it's cliched to say it, but it's true. Alright, I know it doesn't unify everyone, because plenty of people just can't abide football. But for those who have even a passing interest, they become enthralled with it for these few weeks every four years. It unifies more than the Olympics. Unless you know people who are competing in the Olympics I don't think there are many people who open their houses and invite everyone in to watch events. But this happens all over the world when the World Cup is on - people gather together, and get excited, and cheer and scream and shout at the screen, and jump up and down and hug each other when goals are scored, and it's tremendous. It doesn't really matter who wins the tournament in the end, because the atmosphere and excitement is precious and is the best part of the whole thing, always. Two World Cups ago (I don't remember details, I'm usually just enjoying the atmosphere, and possibly being drunk as well), was it Japan or somewhere? And the games were on at strange times? And one England match started at 7 in the morning? We all trucked round to our mates' house, Phil and Hannah, and had a fantastic time. Nobody was the slightest bit bothered that it was so early in the morning - the beer flowed, the company was light-hearted and happy. Oh, I think we lost, and that was when we went out, lol, but I don't really remember all of that, because I just remember the anticipation, and the high spirits. I had to go to work afterwards, but I came back at the end of the day and everyone was still enjoying the party. Marvellous times.

Let's hope we all have a marvellous time tonight. Not a full house, by any means, but Kev's parents, and Noomski and Jessica, some barbecued food, and some beer (not for me or the kids, of course!) AND SOME FOOTBALL - WAHEY!!!

Lx.

Bike It to School

What a stonking good idea, Bike It to School Day. I can't believe I'm such a numpty that I never thought, with my own brain, to cycle to school with the boys before this. And isn't it astonishing what the promise of free food will do to people?? I've never seen so many bikes at school; there were so many that they had to be locked up in the main playground, on both sides! I felt quite emotional when we got there, all these children and parents looking very pleased with themselves - and well so! It was wonderful. There were people waiting at the gate to ask if our bikes needed fixing (for free), and pupils directing us to the breakfast table that had been set up in the playground, where we could help ourselves to brioche, croissants, apples, bananas and juice (for free).

I was only able to ride myself because James is cycling properly. That's a very lucky thing, because he's only 4. He's done very well to find so much confidence so young. He just seemed to know that he was going to be able to cycle before he'd even been on the bike he's using now. He never bothered with stabilisers! Tremendous. I'm that proud :)

Matthew has quite a way to go before he can cycle himself. He has a little 12"wheeled bike, that was James's, and he can pedal it ... but only backwards. Hmm. I think he'll be on the back of my bike for quite some time. We've had the child seat for the back of my bike for years. I only used it about twice with Thomas, and I thought that I didn't like it because it was heavy. Shows how relative everything is, because I barely noticed it was there today - light as anything, and Matthew is older and heavier than Thomas was when he sat in it a few years ago. I think the last few years of chucking three children about has given me some splendid muscles. I could no doubt do quite well in World's Strongest Man (goodness knows I could pass for a fella right now!).

So, we're thinking that we might like to cycle every day now. Yes, I know, shocking! That amount of effort and exercise in a week could very nearly kill me if I'm not careful. So I'll have to make sure I eat some chocolate every day. And perhaps some cake as well. And possibly the odd packet of crisps.

Tomorrow me and Thomas are going to try an experiment, and see if we have enough time to cycle from nursery (which doesn't open until 8.30am) to school by five to nine. If we're late then I think school will have a bit of a cheek in telling Thomas off for being late for such an important reason!

Eeh, good stuff. It felt ever so nice to be cycling with Thomas and James this morning. They do cycle themselves whenever I'm organised enough to walk to school. But they're usually way off ahead of me and I have to run with the pram to keep up. Today I was right alongside them, and we were able to chat and have a laugh all the way. It's not a lot, but every little bit of time we can spend together and enjoy a few smiles and laughs is precious, eh? I keep discovering these extra few minutes in my days, and I can't be sure, but I think I've managed to somehow make my days into 26-hour ones, give or take a few minutes. I'm not sure how that's happened.

Healthy stuff.

Time for a cup of tea and biscuit.

Mmm, cake.

Friends, awww

I had something all mushy and gushy to write about friends, but I came home from school and spent the morning by myself and forgot what it was that I was going to say.

I like friends.

Friends are good.

Friends are important.

Sometimes I'm not a good friend, but sometimes I am. Depends.

I'm so much of a loner that I probably come across as being moody with my friends from time to time. I'm sure of that. I know that I snap at people, and that I sigh when I'm obviously thinking that something my friend is saying is ridiculous, even though they're not actually saying anything ridiculous at all, it's just that I'm in a bad mood. It's nothing to do with the friend - it's usually a 'it's not you, it's me' sort of thing. If I feel like I've seen the same person too much (for too much read more than one visit a week that's long enough to have a cup of tea and biscuit) then I sometimes get ratty. If I make plans to see someone more than once in a week I usually enjoy the first visit, but then cancel any subsequent meet-ups, because I'm a cow!

Selfish, you see? I don't like giving up too much of my time. I'm greedy with my time. I like to store it up, selfishly, and use it all completely by myself. I might waste a lot of it, but at least I've spent it by myself and no-one has stolen it from me. It's my time to waste. If I share it with someone, then it becomes half theirs and I don't control it any more.

But then most days are like today, when I don't really feel like that. Friends are precious today. Friends give spontaneous hugs that catch you off guard and make you have to rush off before you burst into tears in front of them and look like a wally (thank you for that hug yesterday Sara - it made my week!). Friends also tell you that your hair looks fab, even when you think you've made yourself look like a boy and wish you'd just gone to Jo & Cass to get it fixed. Friends are all over the place, my little world is saturated with them, and they're just about everywhere I look. There are friends within my family, there are friends within other people's families, there are very young friends, and very old friends (my oldest friend, in age, is Olga, and I think she must be about 85 now - though I haven't seen her for a while, and would love to get back in touch with her, because she was a right laugh when I worked with her at the uni!), there are friends that wave when they're on Lollipop duty, there are friends all over the world that send (((((hugs))))) over the magical interweb. There are friends who haven't been met yet - exciting!

Lots of friends.

Lovely.

Dang! I did it again!

Before (well, quite a long time before, this photo is about a year old, but this is about how long my hair was this morning)...

... and, After!

This is what my hair looks like now! What an idiot, eh?! Yes. I don't know what comes over me sometimes, I really don't. This urge to purge myself of my unruly (and usually two-tone, it's the two-toneness that usually drives me over the edge) and frizz-prone hair usually grips me every three or four years. This is now the fifth time I've done it, I believe. The first time was at uni, when I was 21. I was drunk, and got my drunk friend to do a grade 1 on me. I really liked it then; it was very, very short and bristly, and I used to bleach it and dye it different colours like navy blue and scarlet. One deep regret in my life is that I never dyed it green. Of course, there's still plenty of time.

The second time I did it was when Thomas was a baby. I remember with crystal clarity the moment when Kev came through the door and I was cradling a teeny Thomas, and Kev's jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw me. He'd never seen me with short hair before. He quite liked it that time, I think. That was the only time he liked it. Then I did it a few more times when Thomas was little, and then when James arrived too. But I haven't lopped it off for about four years now. Every time I swear that I'll never do it again, and then I just wake up one day and almost involuntarily get the clippers out. It's like I'm sleep walking. There's never any indication when I go to bed the night before that I'll be losing my hair the next day, no warning at all. It's not something I really have any control over. Even this morning as I plugged in the clippers I caught myself thinking Are you sure you really want to do this? Because it's not to late to stop you know, and I replied to myself with stony silence and just got on with it.

IDIOT! I know that it kind of suits my face - being one of those horsey-faced kind of people - and that it's nice to feel fresh and cool in the summer. And it's much quicker to deal with in the morning: just stick a bit of wax on and ruffle it up a bit, bish, bash, bosh, done. But I kind of miss my long hair already. I always know that I'll miss it, but I go ahead and shear it off anyway. IDIOT! It's not even as if it was particularly nice long hair - I was in the middle of growing it out of a stupid bob (that I didn't ever like!). I was looking forward to getting it so long that it would be heavy enough to leave down without straightening. FOOL!

Fortunately my hair grows very quickly, winter and summer, so it'll be back to straightenable length in no time at all. In the meantime I will be doing the pixie thing again! It's all because I have zero patience when it comes to my hair. I can't be bothered to wait for the colour I've become bored of to grow out, can't be bothered to go and see if a hairdresser can blend the colour in for me, just can't be bothered. The easy option always seems to be the clippers - it actually always turns out to be the harder option in the end, because of the strange carpet effect my hair achieves all by itself when it is left without some kind of product on it. IDIOT!

Ah well. Never mind. I just hope that I'll be presentable at Noomski and Jessica's wedding at the beginning of October! Cripes - I'd forgotten about that. I was going to have lovely hair for that - not any more, oops.

But thank you to all the lovely ladies in the playground this morning who complimented my hair very sincerely. There's nothing actually wrong with the style - I quite like it really. I just miss my long hair, that's all.

IDIOT!

I am resisting the urge to say 'I'll never do it again', because it's very likely that I'll end up having to eat my words! But, I do really hope that I never do it again ...

A new relationship

Nothing much to write about this morning really. Life is just plodding on lovelily, as it usually does. Nice Monday morning, getting the kids ready for the start of a new week, and planning in my head what needs to be done around here (knowing full well that almost all of it will not get done - but who cares, we're having fun, and that's always more important than keeping a tidy house, yes?!).

This weekend the boys stayed over at my mum's. Usually when they come back, I'm evil to say it, but I feel like it would have been nice if they could have stayed over two nights - to give me chance to miss them, of course! I just have no problem at all with being away from them. I've never been one to fret over them when I've gone out for the evening, or when they've gone out for the day with a grandparent. I don't know whether it's done them any particular good, me being that way - they've all still had their clingy phases, and Matthew is in the middle of one now. Actually he's been in the middle of this clingy phase for almost a year now :D Maybe we're getting near the end of it. But anyway, clingy or not, I'm always perfectly happy for someone else to look after them, so that I can do my own thing. I'm incredibly selfish that way. But what can I do? Nothing. I'm happy to be selfish.

And it was nice again this weekend. I was just very lazy while they were with my mum. Usually I get on with some writing, or get some jobs done, but I just couldn't be bothered to do anything this time. I just read, and ate rubbish for most of Saturday. I actually wandered round the house a little bit, looking for something to entertain me! I might possible have been ... bored! A strange and new kind of feeling for me, one that I haven't felt for years. I didn't really like it. I don't plan on feeling bored again, ever.

But I did say that this weekend was nice! Well, it was. And what was nice about it - apart from watching the football with Kev, Noomski and Jessica (who didn't watch much, because she hasn't much interest in it, lol) in the pub - was that I was quite overwhelmed with tremendous joy and happiness when the boys came home on Sunday morning :D Matthew and James came right up and gave me the biggest, squeeziest hugs, and Matthew told me that he'd missed me. It was gorgeous. Thomas wasn't to be outdone, and he leapt onto my knee and wrapped himself around me, in his leggy way, like some kind of giant spider monkey, and squeezed me until I couldn't really breathe. Ace.

I think it's got something to do with the fact that I've stopped shouting at them so much. I've chilled out again, at last. Hope it's permanent. My poor kids, they do suffer the fallout of my bad moods quite a lot. People think I'm laid back and relaxed all the time. Ha ha! It's just a facade, and I've always saved the tyrannical telling offs for home, when the windows are closed so that the neighbours can't hear me screaming blue murder!! But I've been thinking that it's perhaps a bit much to expect absolutely perfect behaviour all the time from three energetic little boys who have so much that they need to say every minute of the day, and so much playing to do, and so many arguments about Playmobil to resolve amongst themselves. On Friday I realised just how GOOD my children really are. I've always suspected that they're quite good, but had it confirmed when we had one of Thomas's friends over for tea. And while he wasn't actually naughty - he surprised me by actually being very good, and having beautiful manners - his playing was like nothing my boys have experienced before (Thomas experiences it at school in the playground, of course - but never in our house). It was ALL about fighting. It was all about fighting, and not pulling punches! It was all about getting people to fall over and hurt themselves. It was all about laughing at someone else's discomfort or pain. I did just let them get on with it, because to a certain extent I could see that it was good for my boys to experience playing with someone much rougher than themselves - they do have a tendency to be a bit ... soft, shall we say?! So, I didn't like the way this particular little boy played, but I couldn't tell him off because he never actually did anything naughty. The fighting was consensual, and my boys lapped it up, enjoying the freedom to burn off all their energy, all laughing hysterically. Laughing hysterically, except when they were crying because it had gotten that bit too rough and someone got hurt - which happened several times. But next time - yes, I will allow there to be a next time, I must be crazy - I'm taking more control of the play. We're going to do some creative stuff when he comes again, and teach this little boy that fighting is not the only way to have fun. We did a little bit of drawing with him, and he was absolutely thrilled, so I'm hopeful that we'll be able to have a calmer time next time he's with us.

So. Nothing else to say today :) Have a good one.