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Let's play spot the trolley. I am a through the keyhole sort of a person (you know a quick look in people's front room while walking past on the pavement) and my curiosity extends to people's purchases in supermarkets. I look at the contents of the trolleys of other people trying to imagine the meals they are going to have. I especially love "party" trolleys. I sometimes wonder if other people look at my trolley and wonder the same. The last time I went shopping the lady in front of me in the queue was an obvious Atkins dieter. Her trolley contained meat (roasts and steaks mainly), vitamins, bottled water and laxatives. Hum what a fun diet... not. There was also the trolley of the vegeratian who does not eat vegetables. It was all veggie burgers and veggie sausages, veggie cheese, oven chips, baked beans, spagetti hoops, value sliced bread and value swiss rolls. Then again the week-end before last we did a bit of shopping while visiting my mum and dad and overheard, "has to be an English trolley, it's full of booze". " (it was actually "regarde, un caddie de rosbifs, rien que de la picole") I looked at it and it was true that it could not pass for a family's weekly shop but it was not only booze, honest, it also had goodies like confiture de lait, family pot of nutella (20% extra free, who could resist ?), chorizo, saussison, biscuits, chocolate, all healthy stuff that fits well into my lets try and eat more sensibly drive...
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2.2.04 23:18 |
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Even the cat gets post. Today the Baldrick got a card from the vets (we did not choose the name, he was already called that when we got him). He is due for his check up apparently. I feel that Him Indoors should mention that he had been sort of losing it lately. No physical problems he has just been a bit forgetful recently. He had been walking in and the stopping half way down the corridor and looking blankly at the wall for a while. Or asking for food when his bowl is full. Or just looking very puzzled, as if he is trying real hard to remember what it was he was going to do. Anyway it's probably his age (we got him 4 years ago and he was thought to be about 8 then) and it does not seem to hinder his rodent catching capabilities (so far this year squirrels 0 cat 2 - Mice 0 cat lost count) so I suppose it does not matter too much if he goes all excentric on us. I hope it's not something that requires tablets as I would be on feline mouth opening duty then. See Baldrick loves Him Indoors (who loves him back, bless him - I hope I never have to ask him to chose between us as I am not too sure I would come out the winner). He will sleep for hours on his lap but rarely jumps on mine (too much of a fidget I am told). However when it comes to tablets he will just not take them from Him Indoors. The last attempt ended in scratched hands, hisses and spat tablets, a look that said "how could you even consider doing something so undignified to me ? I thought we were friends" and hours of sulking. Since Baldrick considers me staff rather than friends he will take the tablet from me with minimum fuss and will dish me out exactly the same amount of contempt as usual, preserving the careful balance of the family.
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6.2.04 00:11 |
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We know he is a moron... ... so why does The Boy's Father feel he has to prove us right over and over again ? Recently the number of times The Boy sees his father has decreased. It used to be one evening a week + 1 week-end in 3 + a couple of weeks during the Summer holiday. But the Boy's father has moved to the other side of London so the 1 evening a week has become too impractical for him. We have been accomodating by lenghtning the week-end (adding the Friday night to it). For a number of reasons we have a strict policy of if you miss your visit you lose it (unless there is prior agreement - say a special event or a pre planned visit to grand-parents). The Boy always looks forward to the time he spends with his father, and to be fair The Boy's Father does tend to make an effort and take him places. Recently though The Boy's father has been complaining about the visits. He finds rugby training and matches on a Sunday are impractical, we know they are, they eat our week-ends too (even the ones when The Boy is not officially with us since Him Indoors has managed to get roped into helping with coaching), but since it make The Boy happy to go to rugby and run around a field with a ball we just arrange our lives around it, that's what parents do. He brought The Boy back early a few visits ago because The Boy was tired and did not particularly fancy going out in the afternoon (he wanted to stay in and play with his toys). Rather than change the plan of restaurant + whatever he had in mind to quick lunch at home an quiet sunday afternoon, he brought The Boy home so he could get on with his afternoon. On Friday he managed to excel himself. I called him to check if he wanted The Boy to be fed before he was picked up or not. He confessed, he had FORGOTTEN it was his week-end. Now most fathers would have said something along the lines of I can't make it tonight but I'll pick him up tomorrow morning, have him ready for whatever time. Not The Boy's Father. He had other plans and since to him the child must fit around his life rather than the other way round The Boy lost out. Until you have had to answer "Why is my daddy not coming to get me today ?" you have no idea how much you can despise an ex partner. Because you are not supposed to slag off the father of your child in front of them I struggled to come up with a reason. Right or wrong I went for the truth "he forgot" and broke The Boy's heart. Him Indoors came to the rescue on Saturday when it looked like we were going to have a bored sulky child on our hands for the entire week-end. He took The Boy to the driving range for the first time and he loved it. I suppose it's a bloke thing to find therapeutic value in hitting a little ball with a stick. I don't really get it but if it works I'll be gratefull for it. They went through 100 balls amongst the 2 of them and came back happy people. Today he had a good run at rugby and has enjoyed watching Monster's Inc for the umpteenth time all squished on the sofa between the 2 of us. Now it's my turn to do some mummy magic. We have got the mincer out and The Boy is ready to turn the handle to mince pork to make pate. Some friends are coming next Sunday and it will be the perfect starter with a green salad and some of Him Indoor's bread. Since it needs to rest and mature before you can eat it today's a good time to do it. Who said you can't combine the practical with pleasure. If more TLC is called for we may even make a cake (whole orange cake anybody ?).
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8.2.04 17:25 |
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Spam No I do not receive offers for dodgy mortgages or cut price viagra. It's worse my mailbox is full of undeliverables of the above messages because some f***wit out there is using my e-mail address to spam other people with. Great ! Just plain great!.
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8.2.04 17:27 |
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whole orange cake Adapted from one of those Australian Woman's Weekly books whic are not glamourous but hey, the recipes work so they are good to have even if they do not make for good gastroporn. Take 3 oranges (4 if they are little) wash them and put them in a saucepan with cold water, bring to the boil and forget about them for a while (just top up the water here and there and change the water altogether if it goes scummy), when they are squishy (technical cooking term) let them cool down a bit, cut in half, check for pips (discard the pips obviously), chuck them in the food processor and pulse until you have a juicy mush (you can do it when they are still hot if you are pushed for time but beware, if slpashed you will be scalded and nobody has any sympathy for self inflicted injuries - well not in my house anyway). If you have remembered to soften the butter beat 125g of it (half a pack) with about 250g (about a cup ?) of sugar (you can go up to 325 g (a cup and a half) if you have a very sweet tooth, my men prefer sharp tastes so we have gone for less sugar) either by hand or using and electric whisk. If you have forgotten to soften the butter, then transfer the mush to a bowl, rinse the food processor and use it to beat the butter and sugar. When the butter and sugar have been creamed (ie they are paler and look fluffy) start adding 2 eggs 1 at a time mixing a spoonful of self raising flour taken from 150 g (a cup) to stop it curdling. Add the organge mush. Sift the rest of the flour and 2/3 tablespoons (heaped) of ground almonds. Bake at 180 in the fan oven (medium heat) for about 45 minutes. Serve plain or with a drizzle of melted dark chocolate. |
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9.2.04 21:54 |
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February Monkey After a few unsuccessfull attempts I am trying a bigger font again at Mark's request. Martine and Blork invite us to talk about moments that made us feel really alive. I had a thought about it and I worry a bit that most of them relate to my "slapper days". Wonder what it says about me and my current life. I am still alive but maybe these days I live through somebody else's emotions first and mine second. I talked to a collegue about it and she puts it down to having a happy settled family life where the focus shifts to a different person. Maybe she is right. Anyway here is my pick (minus the more slapperish ones). Driving down country lanes to Cirencester with some friends in my old fiat panda, with the soft top roof open and the stereo blaring out Happy Mondays tunes. A couple of "groupie" days back in the early 90's. After stepping in to help with translation at an acoustic session for a minor band, the band invited me for the evening out and put me on the guest list for their gig the next day. After the gig I went to the restaurant with them and later clubbing with the bass player, then spent the night in his hotel room. There was a great sense of emergency. The week-end at a beetle rally in Santa Pod in the mid 90's. I should have hated it (all looking at cars and watching drag racing), I didn't. I had gone with a few friends from work who owned bugs. We met some of their friends there. We put the tent up under the drizzle, slept on bare ground, ate burnt food from an old barbecue. It was fantastic. The mood was great, nothing mattered, we were all mellow, including the random setting on the car stereo cd player. For the space of a week-end life became good again, it was worth carrying on with it for the good bits. No more work rubbish and forgetting the already crumbling relationship with The Boy's Father. Walking to the town centre to catch a bus to work after spending the night with he who shall be refered to as The One I Never Had having got more than I thought I would but still not quite all that I wanted. I felt so alive despite the lack of sleep. "Pulling" a random chap in a pub just because my friend had pointed him out to me as cute. Life felt like something I could control for a few hours. Sad I suppose even though it did not feel like it at the time. Last summer at my best friend's PACS celebration party (sort of a not quite a wedding civil ceremony in France - for people who live together to officialise their relationship - includes gay relationships). He had told me a common friend (L.)could not come and had told her the same about me. Seeing her when I got to his parent's house after the long drive was a total surprise. We just embraced each other and the feelings were very intense. He regrets not having had a camera at the ready to immortalise it. I don't need the picture, my heart still beats that little bit faster when I think about it. Sitting in a rowing boat on the Cherwell while a fellow commuter who worked for a company in the next building was at the oars. He was trying to cheer me up after the worst two weeks of my life. For a moment I took in the young birds, the beauty of the river, the calm and the daze cleared a bit. The automatic pilot came off and I started to live again if only in a not quite complete way. Missing the last train home, going to the house of somebody L and I had only met a few hours before and lying to L's mum about where we were going to spend the night. Sitting down at home with The Boy after coming out of the hospital and suddenly it felt right that he was with me. Kissing Him Indoors for the first time after having plotted for weeks. There was a feeling of things falling into place, as if life was a train which had been put on the tracks it ought to be on. |
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12.2.04 00:53 |
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I've gone all Life Laundry on Him Indoors... ... something needed to be done. Him Indoors had unsuccessfully voiced threats about writing to volunteer our house for one of these get rid of everything that you cherish and blobber in front of the TV viewers while your prized posessions are pawed by pseudo psychologists type programmes. His latest threats ran along the lines of "Isuppose it would be quicker if I just hired a skip". He sounded like he may have meant it. Incentive number 1. Then Sarah called and talked about coming for lunch. The headcount meant the usual table would not be enough and the dining table would have to be freed so we could have a kiddie table and a grown up one. Incentive number 2. My mum and dad called and said they were bringing my niece with them on Monday (my sister is without a child minder at the moment so they have taken childcare duties over). My niece is a little tornado. She has barely learnt to walk but has already showed a sense of adventure. She has no sense of danger and a vivid imagination. As a rule I feel spending 4 hours in a casualty waiting room is not the best way to spend ones time. Incentive number 3. Obviously I have known of the visits for weeks and because I am organised I started to do it gradually ... NOT. I started Saturday morning and finished the last few bits this morning. 4 and 1/2 black bin liners later the room is transformed. Him Indoors is impressed. Sarah and Christine thought they had come to the wrong house. It's not that I cannot tidy, I am actually quite good when I get round to doing it, I just do not like to do do it. I love cleaning and hate tidying (give me a damp cloth, some gloves and a bottle of bleach and off I go), kitchens and bathrooms I can keep in order because it involves more cleaning than putting away, other rooms are more of a problem.. I am a hoarder which compounds the problem. When I start tidying up, if I do not have a deadline, I will stumble accross a pouch of photos, an old magazine, a book, an old letter and start reading it and before I know the room looks even worse, full of half started piles of stuff and it's too late to go any further. Can't do that if the deadline is looming. More unusual items found: a saw, a number of screwdrives and alum keys, a roll of film which needs to be processed, a tin full of old letter, the class picture of an-ex boyfriend with little notes from his friends for me (he went to boarding school), low energy lightbulbs, long lost tapes, 3 blank address books (I tend to write phone numbers on scraps of papers and lose quite a few so people get me adress books as a present), 4 different size frames none of which fit the pictures I would like to hang, coins from countries I don't remember setting foot in, countless keys... And no, I did not find a more suitable "home" for the sheets of plasterboard, they are still behind the piano. I wonder how long it will be before it's all back to normal. |
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16.2.04 00:22 |
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