Easter Bonnet

At 9:30pm I crept out into the darkness of our yard. I pulled my hood over my head and open the front gate onto the street. Checking the coast was clear of cars or anyone on foot I hastily trotted across the road and hid behind one of the trees. I eyed my target…the neighbour’s flower bed. After another quick scan of the area, to confirm no one was around I took a deep breath and dashed over grabbed a small bunch of flowers, throw them under the cover of my coat and raced back to the yard, closing the gate behind me as I leaned against it.

I caught my breath and opened my coat to reveal my prize…a nice bunch of daffodils.

You see…I have to make an Easter Bonnet for Katie for tomorrow so figured I would sew these pretty yellow flowers onto my summer hat. And it looked great!

Unfortunately I neglected to remember that plants need water to survive and by morning the pretty yellow flowers were just a shrivelled mass on the hat. So even after my undercover mission and staying up until midnight to make the hat, Katie still went to school with nothing.

The next morning when I arrived back from college I learned Katie had borrowed a hat for the parade and Becky also required an Easter bonnet so had to rush one out in the morning with her school! I’m a bad mum and can only apologise to the girls and endeavour to try harder next time!

Blonde – Behind the scenes

The not so Hollywood story…

As part of our psychology project we are tasked with observing the difference in driving behaviour between males and females. The test being who would skip the traffic lights when they change from amber to red.

Basically we have to stand at a set of traffic lights (preferably unseen to the drivers) for 10 minutes, jotting down who did and didn’t skip the lights when they changed.

So who is less likely to conform to traffic signals - Males or Females?

After asking the question it is normally followed by men saying “Males, because we are daring and everyone knows women don’t know how to drive!” This sparks off the women to say “Of course men will skip the lights they’re just dangerous and all think they are all boy racers!”

All-in-all the consensus says that men will skip the lights more often than women. So if I now tell you there is little to no difference in males and females who skip traffic lights would you be surprised?

I personally didn’t believe that women wouldn’t skip the lights anyway since I have shot through a few amber lights myself. But I did expect a higher percentage of men to women.

The final percentage from the class observations (thirty students) was:

69% of females stopped

63% of males stopped

31% of females didn’t stop

37% of males didn’t stop

So there you have it…our results, showing that women and men have little difference in their driving behaviour at traffic signals - well in this occasion at least.

Drive another day

The name’s Blonde - Strawberry Blonde! I’ll have a beer not shaken or stirred, just a slice of lime please. And my mission, since I have no choice but to accept it is: observation studies on gender differences to conformity at traffic signals*.

Having donned a suitable disguise of blue jeans, trainers and a sweatshirt I position myself in an inconspicuous position near the target, being sure to have a good line of sight and a clear escape route. Once comfortable I check the time on my very low tech watch and wait.

Five minutes pass and I’m about to abort the mission when a figure passes me and approaches the target. “Go on” I whisper under my breath “Push the button – I dare you!” The figure scans the horizon and begins to raise a finger to the button. Time appears to go into slow motion, as I reach for my pocket and grab my weapon and the lights change from green to amber to red…

Man…no, man…no, woman yes

Time races back into real time as I raise my head from the note pad, and blow the steam of my pen. The figure has now crossed the road I whisper “Thanks” as I smile at them walking away unknowingly down the street.

Before I could replace the pen back into my pocket another figure approaches the lights. “Yes” I whisper again trying not to get too excited and give my mission away. Again they scan the horizon and as I prepare myself for another frantic observation he steps out and trots across the road.

“NO!” I gasp “How could you – bloody sod!” I continue to mutter quietly in disgrace at the stranger across the street.

Another five minutes and nine victims later, I look and my watch, close my notepad, place the pen back in my pocket and breath a satisfied sigh.

Mission Complete, now to get this information back to Mrs Psychology.

*Anyone who is studying Psychology at college will now groan at the sounds of that mission.

Face Lift

After seeing all the work kiwi-at-sea has been putting into his site I felt I had better make an effort to give mine a face lift to keep up with him.

So here it is - any suggestions on appearance will be welcome.

Easter is coming

This easter will you be having:

The Easter Rabbit

or....

The Rampant Rabbit?

HAPPY EASTER!

Night Out

I finally prise my eyelids apart after hearing a noise next to me “Mummy can we get dressed?” “Mummy can I wear a skirt?” “Mum poo!” I turn to see three little faces beaming at me and lazily mutter “Yeah”. They run off excitedly and a few minute later Katie returns “Mummy can I make breakfast?” I turn again and say “Go on then”. Katie leaves and Sarah enters still not dressed (that was too much to ask for) “Mum poo!” “Yeah yeah I say as I drag myself from my warm comfortable bed. My brain suddenly pulses in my head. After a deep sigh my shaky arms push me from the gravitational pull of the mattress. As my weight goes to my feet I wince in pain and promptly sit back on the bed. “What the f***?” I think to myself as I pull up my left foot to check the heel. My feet have a few blisters and then it comes flooding back…

6pm the night before – A knock on the door lets me know Alex (the babysitter) is here. I quickly show her in and begin running through the formalities (as if we were swapping shifts). When I had informed her where to find everything and what time the girls should be in bed I call a taxi and ten minutes later am on my way.

The driver and I make polite conversation opening with: “Why are you going out in this weather – Are you going voluntarily or are you expected out?” I replied with “Ah it’s just a bit of rain”, mentioned it was a friend’s birthday and that I hadn’t seen her in almost three years At that moment, almost at my destination, I remembered I had forgotten the card! Damn!! The driver reassured me my appearance would mean more to her than the card, which I thought was very nice of him to say so.

I pay the driver and bid him a good evening, then turn towards the ferry terminal. The rain is quite heavy so I pull up my coat hood and began walking towards the incoming ferry at a skip. This was half down to excitement and that I wore a new pair of boots with 1 ½ inch heels. Having not worn such footwear in some time it was taking a bit of getting used to. My normal very un-lady like strides were reduced to baby steps with a rapid clink, clink, clink as I realised the ferry was now berthed and awaiting it’s passengers.

For some silly reason I followed my usual routine on the ferries, being…going to the top deck for the view and fresh air. Thankfully the ship on duty tonight was the ‘Spirit of Portsmouth’ so I didn’t have to stand in the rain, which was now rather heavy, and settled myself down in one of the lounges near a window (or porthole – I should know better!) As the ferry disembarked from Gosport and began the reasonably choppy ride across to Portsmouth I suddenly consider how I was going to attempt to descend the stairs in these boots (which I was now regretting wearing tonight).

We touched the dock and I waited for most of the deck to clear before cautiously making my way down the stairs, thankfully without incident. A clumsy walk up the dock and I was soon sitting at the bus stop awaiting the 41. While there a young guy asked me if passive smoking was worse than smoking? I was a little taken aback at first as I wondered what made me look like a smoker, let alone know the answer to his question. So I made up an answer and attempted to articulate it back to him convincingly. He seemed to accept my answer as he turned back to his mate and continued the debate with his new found knowledge. I spotted the number 17 bus pulling into the station and made a retreat before more random questions were asked. I stepped onto the bus hoped to god it was going to commercial road as I asked for the ticket. Yes it was thank goodness! And a few minutes later I was on my way into Portsmouth City centre.

I thanked the bus driver as I stepped off the bus at my stop. Another rapid clumsy trot followed and two seconds later I was standing outside the Trafalgar bar. I entered after another lady as the security guard asked us both for identification. I could have kissed him for thinking I was under 18! But thought that wouldn’t look good on first impressions and showed him my driving licence complete with hideous photograph instead.

The Trafalgar was the like walking into the tardis (bigger on the inside) and I had to stop myself searching for David Tennant and start searching for Tracy instead. It was at this point I remembered again that I haven’t seen Tracy for a few years and realized I would quite likely walk past her without knowing. At that thought I noticed a short blonde girl standing across from the bar with a small group of people. I cautiously began walking toward her hoping that if it wasn’t her I could calmly pretend I was walking past to the free table next to them.

It was her and she recognised me too, so all was good. After quick introductions we made our way to the bar and ordered some drinks.

Many drinks later…

We are wandering the streets looking for a suitable club. What is a suitable club? They are all loud, dark and it’s impossible to get to the bar! None of that really works for me since I was enjoying talking crap, reminiscing over times past and getting drinks on demand without hassle. But you have to try these things before you condemn them.

At some ungodly hour I decide to call it a night and begin the journey home. I approached a taxi and asked the cost to Gun Wharf, then looked in my wallet to see it empty…damn! He points me in the direct of a cash machine but I find myself at the end of the street with no cash machine in sight. I look up and see the lights of spinnaker tower glinting like the stars to navigate by and decide that I will walk the seemingly short distance*.

A few blocks later, I am cursing my boots as I remove them from my sore feet, pull my hood up as the rain gets heavier and continue walking. I have no idea what time is and the navigation lights have now disappeared behind a tall building so I have no idea where I am either? Just then I see the University of Portsmouth and I know at least I am heading in the right direction. A few puddles later to cool my feet, that are now quite raw from walking heavily on the asphalt, and I see Gun Wharf Quay. I half skip and hop hoping I haven’t missed the ferries as I see one berthed. I make my way down the dock, hop onboard and find a seat. A few stares at my torn bare feet make my bundle into my coat more until we reach the Gosport dock. After a quick taxi ride home, apologies to Alex for being late (even though I still had no idea what time it is) I bid her goodnight and crawl up to bed.

A voice snaps me out from the evening’s memories “Mum Poo!” I look down at Sarah, smile a hopefully convincing smile and hobble to her room to fetch a nappy and the wipes…I don’t recommend changing dirty nappies with a mild hangover!!

*My concept of distance and length has never been very good and I also neglected the fact that things may seem closer in the dark and when they are tall buildings!

Parcel Force vs Gale Force

To say it was windy last week is an understatement. Near hurricane force winds battered the coasts, rain pounded into the earth at great velocity and quantity, and temperatures plummeted. I wouldn’t have noticed if I didn’t have to take the girls to school, since we are in a fairly sheltered area (having said that the neighbour’s gates were blown off their hinges).

The Dover to Calais ferries were cancelled, planes were grounded at Heathrow and Postmen were told not to deliver mail.

“Back up” I hear you say “what’s this about no mail delivery?” Yes folks it’s true. Mail delivery across the country was discarded while postal workers abandoned their sacks and cycles and bunkered in the Post Offices. It makes sense though as I had visions of postmen clinging onto envelopes as they were scooped into the sky by the wind, or chasing escapees down the street until they finally manage to stomp a boot onto them pinning them to the ground.

The announcement over the radio was a lose-lose for the posties though, since they were moaned at for not delivering the mail and probably would have been moaned at for delivering soggy mail covered in size nine boot prints?

I am however, very amused by the perfectly formed boot print on the envelope that entered though our letter box after the weather had calmed.

No Excuse!

Apologies folks (those hardened fans that enjoy my random nonsense*) for not posting blogs on my site for some time. I have been extremely busy with college projects and a program on my computer informs me I have 27 viruses. So I have spent the last few days trying to sort that out and get assignments in by their deadlines.

To be honest there is no real excuse for not being bothered to sit and write blogs. But mine have more merit than some I have heard and will no doubt have to come when working as a teacher?

Things like:

“I’ve left my homework at home sorry” – You should be careful using this one as sometimes the teacher will send you home to get it (the homework you haven’t done).

“The wind blew my coursework right out of my hands when I stepped off the bus”

“The dog ate it” Of course this is an all time classic and has been used by many people. My jaw dropped to the desk however, when one of the mature students in our class used it as an excuse for not having completed his placement journal. The tutor gave him a suspecting look and hysterics filled the classroom as he pulled a tatted mess of papers from his bag.

And the list goes on…

On that note I will skip the excuses and attempt to furnish you with more antics and general happenings of my life - You may want to get a cup of tea?

*Oddly enough I notice looking at the link referral that everyone is finding my site by typing “First sign you are gay” into the search engine and finding my post with the picture of the baby screwing its face up at the perfectly formed breast and erect nipple. Now I’ve said that men will be frantically scanning this site to find said picture!

Cum, and get your cookies

The ominous cookies in question

I walked happily out of the college canteen having purchased my hot chocolate and cookies for only £1. A quick scan of area soon located my classmates around a table so I walked over to join them. I settled myself into an available seat, removed the top off my hot chocolate and began to open the wrapper on the cookies.

While eating the first of four cookies and sipping my drink, I listened to the others talking about the lesson. It didn’t take long to consume two cookies, and still hungry (since this is breakfast and lunch!) I pulled another out of the wrapper. As the cookie moved towards my mouth I suddenly noticed the manufactures name ‘OtisSPUNKmeyer’ across the packet. My eyes then shifted to the cookie directly in front of me, with its white lumps glaring at me!

A snort of laughter soon had everyone looking at me with intrigue. Trying to not be too childish about it I showed them my discovery and thankfully they all burst into hysterics too. Some commented on how they wouldn’t be able to eat the biscuits after discovering that, but before I could stop myself I said “They don’t taste salty!” More hysterics followed, but I could now feel my face going a nice shade of red after that remark.

Interestingly I wasn’t even looking for humour today – It found me! Maybe I have missed my calling as a circus clown?

Mothers Day

It’s time to celebrate all the mums of the world and show our appreciation for: bringing us into the world; looking after us and generally being there when we need them, by giving them gifts and pampering them for the day.

Whenever someone mentioned Mothers Day coming up on Sunday and asked what the girls would be doing for me. I joked about how I always had to remind Dan of such events (including birthdays) in order to receive anything. And since he is currently at sea, I can assume it will only be a hug from the girls this year, which is fine too.

On Friday I received early hand made cards from the girls, thanks to the schools being organised. Becky even brought a paper cone with a dozen pieces of fudge in it, which was a pleasant treat. Yesterday our childminder brought a couple of pictures Sarah and Becky had made while in her care. They were a couple of painty handprints with the following poem:-

There used to be so many of my fingerprints to see, on furniture and walls and things from sticky grubby me.

But if you stop and think a while you’ll see I’m growing fast, those little handprints disappear, you can’t bring back what’s past.

So here’s a small reminder to keep, not wipe away, of tiny hands and how they looked, to make you smile someday.

The biggest surprise however was a package delivered to the door today containing: flowers, wine and chocolates from Dan on behalf of the girls. Having now picked myself up from the floor, after fainting in shock, I will apologise to Dan for underestimating him and thank him and the girls for a wonderful surprise.

This has to be the best Mothers day I have had!

And before I forget mum - HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!