The other bits

Ok so I went away on Saturday. Over night. Yes you heard me right. That's the second night away from the children in seven years. I am rock and roll. Which was further evidenced by my destination which was Gibson's Rock Bar in York. But more on that in a minute.

I do actually love it when a plan comes together. I'd been trying to fix a date with some friends for a while when it turned out one of them was due to come and play with his band in York. I did wonder briefly about not mentioning it and just jumping out in a Cilla Black Surprise Surprise fashion. But I realised in good time that I did actually need to know the venue so I thought I'd better ask him in advance. Fortunately my proposed attendance didn't make them change their plans.

My university housemate lives in Knaresborough and clearly he couldn't think of an excuse not to put me up fast enough, which was good news. Another university friend was free as well as another lovely friend from a previous workplace. It was turning into a veritable reunion. Well for me anyway.

We started in a real ale pub and reminisced about university. It seems we have taken to saying we met in Hull 15 years ago. It's actually 19 years but I'm more than happy to join in and pretend I'm actually still 33.

During the conversation we discussed young people who see eating as cheating when on a night out. I have never subscribed to this idea. I like food too much. We went to a Thai restaurant. On arrival it was clear that there were no customers. There was not an occupied seat in the house. The staff sucked air through their teeth because we hadn't booked. Either that or we looked shifty. We promised to eat fast.

We went via another grown up pub to the Navacross gig at Gibson's Rock Bar. Which is apparently owned by a Pigeon Detective. The conversation that followed included homing pigeon theft. It was that kind of a night.

Despite the fact that one of the bands playing had a volume knob that went up to at least 23 we had fun chatting (when they'd stopped playing obviously - you can't talk about pigeons if you can't hear yourself think) and drinking cocktails. I haven't been in a bar that does deals on cocktails for quite some time but apparently Micklegate is the hen and stag capital of York.

They wouldn't let me buy a cocktail with the word alligator in it which was probably for the best.

Now, I am a bit biased but, Navacross were brilliant. We danced a lot despite me choosing to wear heels. We all wished they had been on for longer. Hopefully they will come up and play in Sheffield soon to give me another excuse to see my friends and to dance and drink cocktails. Or, more probably, beer. And I'll be wearing flats.

After lots of hugs we eventually left and waited in a taxi office. All it needed was a man who struggled to breathe while changing gear and I'd have been back in Hull in 1997. Back at the house we had tea and toast (without dairylea sadly) at two in the morning. We used to do that in 1997 too.

Despite the tea I was a bit drunk - I don't mind admitting it. The result was I went to bed with my supportive underwear on (just call me Bridget). I woke at least eight times dreaming I was on a health farm being forced to squeeze into size eight clothing. I've spent the following two days wearing jogging bottoms in protest.

I tried to leave Knaresborough at lunch time but I'd left my lights on. My friend graciously let me back into his house and made me a further two cups of tea.

It took an hour and a half for the mechanic to arrive and thirty seconds to start the car. I must buy some jump leads. Or just remember to turn my lights off.

I got home without it snowing or running out of diesel. Then I watched Nanny McPhee.

This night might not seem so incredible. To people who go out a lot it wouldn't. To me it was remarkable. Planning that worked, wonderful friends, good music and only minor issues with lycra and headlights. Brilliant.

Best Night in Ages

Now this requires two posts. One which details the nuts and bolts of my often slightly comical exploits, and this one. Which is soppy.

Maybe it's just us, but when we had children things changed. It became harder to for me mentally and physically to go and see friends and family. Worse than that there were some friendships which by sheer number of the miles between us got hit harder than others.

If you are on Facebook you will see the twee words of motivation that whizz past on a regular basis. Those which state what true friendship is all about. Whatever. All I know is sometimes there are gaps that don't make the slightest difference in the long run. You pick up where you stupidly left off.

I walked into Gibson's Rock Bar in York on Saturday night and finally saw a couple I hadn't seen in five years. Now I have a reputation for being soppy so it won't come as a surprise that it affected me. Fortunately we were drinking mojitos not gin so I didn't burst into tears.

We met about 15 years ago when they lived in a flat above me with no heating and very dubious electrics. They had a house rabbit, a camper van and time for me, who was living alone and working as a manager in a supermarket (it was a tricky time...).

So on Saturday they came from Colchester to York with Navacross, who went on to play a brilliant set (of which more later). I spent the evening drinking, talking, dancing and hugging them a bit too much, along with my other lovely friends who met me there. The only negative was the absence of Paul who had volunteered to babysit so I could stay away for the night. He was definitely the missing piece.

If I had a mojito to hand (not wise at 12 noon on a Monday) I would raise it then to old friends, and to finally getting a handle on life balance. In particular to you two. I love you to pieces.

There. Emotional post for the week. Done.

Brain training

One of the things I am acutely aware of at the moment is that I don't use my brain enough. With this in mind I have finally accepted middle age and started listening to Radio Four in the hopes that I absorb information while I'm making bolognese.

It was working quite well. I heard a book review of something I found interesting and instantly forgot what it was called. And I learnt a bit about bionic arms yesterday. I can't remember any of it obviously but it's a development.

I don't yet listen to the Archers. But I don't think that farming knowledge is particularly relevant in my current line of unemployment.

So I did my usual thing this morning or returning home from school and turning the radio on while I tidy up the breakfast thing. Melvyn Bragg was discussing the philosophy of epicureanism. Is this some kind of a joke? All I wanted was some gentle mental stretching not a full on brain gymnastics.

I turned it off and listened to Sean Keaveny. Thank God for Richard Hawley.

Surely there is a happy medium? I'm adding developing current affairs/cool alternative non commercial music radio programme to my to do list.

For now I'll try again later. I can cope with Woman's Hour but I'm turning it off if anyone mentions Latin. And I'm typing while listening to Athlete. That will do nicely.

Home Work - Week 3

Spring Cleaning

Every year we have to have a ‘spring clean’. Every year I try to hide in my room so I don’t have to help. Every year Mum says my room is a pigsty and can I please tidy it up and have a clear out.

This year I can sort of see what she means. It is getting a bit tricky to find things. I spent half an hour yesterday looking for a dice so we could play snakes and ladders. And I still can’t find a bookmark so I’ve been using a sock.

I’d better get on with it I suppose. The thing is, well, I like things. My bookshelves are covered with things. There’s that dinosaur I painted when I was three - I must keep that. Oh and a rock I found on the beach at Filey. I have fourteen books about science on the shelf next to a bit of rope and a small plastic penguin. I don’t remember where the penguin came from.  Sixteen postcards from Grandma from places around the world and…no I’m getting side tracked. Snotty tissues. They can go in the bin. That's much better.

But to clean and tidy properly I think the best thing would be to start at the bottom so I’ll take everything off the shelves. And probably it makes sense to empty the toys out of the cupboard too. And the toy box. Then I’ll know where I am.

There.

Okay so now I can’t see the floor but at least I know what I’ve got. Ooooh there’s the dice. Now where did I put the game? There's a small stick – that’ll be a better bookmark. Brilliant.

Maybe this tidying up wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

I’m hungry now though. I’ll finish it later.

Conisbrough Castle

I haven't been on a school trip as a helper before. Largely because weirdly I never chose to make myself available.

But things have changed and I am embracing all the freedom that being at home without children most days affords. I am listening to year 2 children read once a week, and volunteering for school trips. Of course it does depend where they are going. There is no chance I'm going to Cleethorpes on a bus with fifty children, especially if I'm not being remunerated.

Anyway I figured I could cope with a castle that wasn't that far away so volunteered.

The coach trip wasn't too bad ("it's not a bus, Phoebe's mummy" - I seem to have forgotten all my Transbus training) . This was despite having to play 'eye spy' and 'guess what I am' all the way there.

"I spy with my little eye something beginning with b"
"Blue"
"Yes blue begins with b but it's not a thing. What thing begins with b?"
"Blue"
"No not blue. A thing. What's smaller than a tree?"
"Erm flowers?"

and "I've thought of one"
"Are you a giraffe?"
"No. Can you ask a question to find out more? Like am I a zoo animal?"
"Are you a zoo animal?"
"Yes"
"Are you an elephant?"
"Are you a zebra?"
"Are you a cat?...."

It was touch and go with some queasy stomachs, and that was just the adults, but we made it there relatively unscathed.

The day itself it can be split into three sections:

1. The castle. It's good, everyone seemed to like it. It is a bit tricky to hear what's being said by the guide whilst trying to stop children from actually blowing over, but overall good. A small castle but interesting.

We went into the keep. It turns out you make quite slow progress going up lots of steps with 26 small people. And we'll have to go back as a family to see the view from the roof as no one was risking flying children, even if Phoebe was determined to see Mary Poppins on a cloud.

2. The dressing up. Once we 'd worked out which way on the costumes went on this proved very popular. Phoebe was a lady and for a short time afterwards had delusions of grandeur.

3. Other. As a helper you are given five children to look after. It is a little challenging when one of the children is a sunglasses wearing dynamo and two are the slowest walkers known to man but it went ok. I didn't lose any of them and no-one cried. Win.

If there are two toilets, 50 children who must try to do a wee and it takes two minutes for each child, how long do you spend waiting outside toilets? Twice? I'm setting it as a maths puzzle for Tilly.

And for future reference I cannot last all day on one cup of tea. Also I am not as healthy as school children. They ate apples and drank milk for snack and I was desperate for a packet of hob nobs and a coffee.

The journey home was fairly uneventful. Several of the children had collapsed into exhaustion, and Phoebe and her friend played imaginary vigorous pass the parcel for at least twenty minutes. Then we sang Nellie the Elephant.

One last point. It is probably one of the great questions of all time but why does it take so long for children to get off a bus. So long that the weather changes from sunshine and we have to walk home in the hail because they didn't get a flipping move on.

Overall a good day and we'll be going back as a family because Tilly will love it too. As will Grandma and Grandad.

 I take my hat off to reception teachers and teaching assistants though. That's another one crossed off my career options...

Tears and smiles - the usual week

Stuff I cried at this week:

1. 'Les Miserables'. When people died.

2. A man talking about not being able to afford to rent a market stall in the new Sheffield market after being in Castle Market for 36 years. There seems significant irony in market stall holders finding it cheaper to rent an empty shop unit than a market stall. Maybe that's how the council are planning to revive the high street. No HMV, Jessops or Blockbusters but a significant number of butchers.

3. Attila the Stockbroker reciting a poem called 'Never Too Late' about finally stating his love for his stepfather following his mother's death from Alzheimers disease. Buy this please.

4. An orphan baby kangaroo being put to sleep on a documentary. I can't believe I got to 37 without knowing anything about kangaroos. I now have 'opening kangaroo sanctuary' on my possible career list.

5. Not getting a job interview. As an ex-HR professional I'm not altogether surprised but it still made me snivel for a minute. Onwards and upwards.

There was also the following life affirming smiley stuff:

1. Seeing old friends, eating roast dinner and receiving a mental daffodil.

2. Getting together with new and old friends, eating food, talking too much and drinking wine.

3. Finally booking a half term holiday in Amsterdam and planning routes around it avoiding the Red Light District. It was hard enough explaining the mating kangaroos.

4. A night out with my husband. Even if he did make me walk up a massive hill.

5. Watching the kids lark about with their friends. Tilly was dressed as a tiger all day today. She has gone to bed wearing a tail despite my recommendation to the opposite.

6. Attempting to find my voice. I suspect Gareth Malone would be unimpressed by my choral potential but hey-ho.

7. Listening to children read at school on Tuesday. It felt like I was being useful which is a good thing.

8. Receiving a positive reaction to the start of my story about a footballer at writing group. They might have just been being nice to me though. May change lead character to a tiger cub.

9. My daughter's reaction to Charlotte's Web.

On balance not a bad week. I'm going on a school trip tomorrow though...

Homework - Week 2

In case you are interested in my homework this is week two's:

Mikey Williams Versus Class 2

Mikey Williams was very keen on football. Well, any sport in fact. Watching it or even better doing it. He was not, however, in any way keen on schoolwork.

“Mikey!” shouted his mum up the stairs. “It’s time to get up, your breakfast is on the table.”

Mikey groaned, pulling the duvet cover over his head and trying his best to go back to sleep. He began to replay his last match against Rotherham Under 12s in his head with his eyes closed. Just as he was streaking towards the goal with the crowd cheering on the sidelines, something large landed on top of him, thrown quite forcibly from the direction of the doorway.

“Get up, lazy” said his sister Una. “Double maths this morning isn’t it?” she reminded him with a smirk.

Mikey grabbed his pillow and threw it towards his sister who shut the door just in time with a laugh. “You’re a rubbish shot” she called from the landing.

‘Never mind’, Mikey thought. She’d get her comeuppance in a minute. He would be all ready to go to school while she would be hopping around trying to find her other shoe. He’d hidden it behind the plant in the living room.

He hauled himself out of bed, shoving his feet into a pair of well-worn United slippers and throwing on his dressing gown. Double maths, he thought, why me? I bet Fernando Torres can’t do long division.

He looked at himself in the mirror. Maybe today would be different. Maybe today Mr Jones would leave him alone in class and pick on someone else. Maybe today he would ask Amanda a question and she’d get it wrong for once and they’d all laugh.  Maybe.

It didn’t take long for Mikey to wolf down a bowl of cereal and three slices of toast. He tried to ignore Una who was always one step ahead of him. When he was getting up, she was already dressed. When he was eating she was cleaning her teeth. ‘Why are sisters so annoying?’ he thought to himself.

“Una, why is your shoe behind a pot plant?” called Mum.

Ugh. Foiled again. He’d have to find somewhere better to hide it tomorrow.

Mum grabbed the keys and bundled the now dressed and almost presentable Mikey into the car with his perfectly turned out sister.

“It’s your school trip tomorrow remember” said Mum. “There’s an envelope in your bag with the money in. Don’t forget to hand it in”. She turned out of the road and Una switched on the radio. “Are you looking forward to it?” Mum shouted over the music.

Mikey thought it was best to say “yes he did”. That way she wouldn’t ask him any more questions. But why did he want to go to a smelly old museum. It would be boring, he was sure of that, and most likely he’d get stuck holding hands with Pippa all day. The teachers always put him with a sensible girl. He had no idea why.