Monty Dog and the Prize Paw Draw

How the heck did I get up here?

Dahlings, sorry I had a bit of a hiatus there (but don't worry, I can get it seen to on the National Health).

Grandma Whacker has been to stay.
 

Everyone is impressed when I tell them she drives herself from the Cotswolds to our house (resolutely all the way in the middle lane of the motorway I suspect).  They say things like, " Wow, that's brilliant, at her age," and "Let me know when she is travelling so I can take a different route."  All joking aside, she really is an excellent driver.

Unlike her daughter - today Mr B was washing the car and took me on a trip down memory lane: "This is where you scraped against the scaffolding lorry" and "This is where you hit the skip. "  To be honest I could not remember half of the alleged bumps, but hey, good times, people, good times...   I had a lot to contend with back in our London days, what with the constant problem of finding a parking space, two wriggly toddlers yodelling in the back, in particular Boy 2 (aged 4) who liked to sing along to Johnny Cash "Ring of Fire"...with just a slight time delay so you thought you had a evil pixie echo..

Boy 2

Johnny Cash during his hell raisin' Ring of Fire days before he was tamed by the love of a good woman
taken home for a bath and bed

 

Some of us made slight adjustments to our routine during Grandma Whacker's visit:

Here's Boy 1.

Here's Mr B.  

I think he should market these to all men whose MILs come to stay.  

Now on to business - I finally did the prize paw draw for the book - the brilliant thriller wot my friend wrote.

  It got a great review the other day in the Daily Mail no less, so don't miss it! review here

You will be pleased to hear that the draw was carried out under the strictest conditions.

Protective goggles were worn (almost).

Names were written down on pieces of paper. .

 
 They were then placed into the hi-tech Dogatron (patent pending, the US government is interested in this technology for the next Presidential election).

 

 

 

 

 

 Then our top scrutineer carefully selected, on a totally anonymous basis, one of the pieces of paper.

  

 

.

After a quick lunge and grab operation, we were able to get the paper out of the scrutineer's mouth and the slighty soggy winner is:

 

LPC! 

Dear LPC, congratulations my dear and I shall be in touch! To everyone else, thank you for taking part and sorry you didn't win (but at least you are not covered in dog saliva..)

Right better go, it's Sunday evening here and while Boy 2 has of course broken up from school for a week already ("Daphnes4Boy, A Few Weeks At School, Long Summers by the Pool", registered trade mark) Boy 1 still has one more week to go ("Greggs Grammar, Keeping them off the streets since 1635").

Re-blog

I think I am coming back....soon.

As an independent woman of today I miss blogging, plus my mother (Grandma Whacker) said I had to.

The blog is a handy way for Grandma Whacker to keep track of our antics from her control centre in HomePerm* Towers.





There will be lots of this.

 

 

 

And not so much of this

(cos we is grown up now so it is not cool to be on the old relic's blog, plus our idea of the great outdoors is opening the window while on the Xbox)



And maybe a bit of this too

From MaitTai's blog, I am the one grinning with all my teeth

Plus I may just do one of those giveaway thingies that was all cutting edge in blog world about 5 years ago...



*That should get me grounded for a week. 

And then my pants dropped off

 

Dahlings, how are you? I am pleased to report that our local Shorts Wearing Man is still at large, with daily sightings of him and his legs. I now have to sing a short refrain of "it's crazeey, crazeey, shorts wearing man!" whenever I drive past him, I just can't not do it. And  I am wondering what on earth will happen if it actually gets hot this summer - stay tuned for possible update on Crazy Naked Man and/or local mother drives car into hedge in state of over-excitement.

This week the boys popped back into school for a spot of learning before the next set of holidays.

To celebrate* I took myself off to Bicester Village (luxury brand discount outlet and my spiritual home).

Loved this dress but even discounted it was £££££

 

Shockingly, I bought very little. I saw a tweet a while ago along the lines of "My woman-ness is
broken, I can't shop" and I felt just like that, the pathos was overwhelming.

 

 

Marni

 

 

Loved the dress on the right but even discounted it was ££££££

 

 

 

Above and below Jimmy Choo

 

 

I came home with only liquid handwash and L'Artisan Parfumeur Mandarin eau de toilette.  When I told Mr B I had bought some mandarin perfume he asked why I wanted to smell like an ancient Chinese bureaucrat- ha ha Mr B, ha ha.

In yet another exciting new fashion development I have decided pencil skirts are the Way Forward** - ones in stretchy material, though, for comfort and ease of movement.




 I have decided they are more flattering for the older figure and also will eliminate the problem of  "accidental lower back exposure" aka builder's bum.  I have jeans from Zara which are cut too low. Recently the boys have been shouting "UUUUURHHHG MUM NO, we can see your bum, uuuuuuurh! !" when I bend down to feed one or other of the domestic appliances. It's not the kind of reaction I wish to inspire in young men.

I have taken the plunge and ordered these.  I look forward to returning them shortly. And to be honest, forget the skirts, I would rather hire one of these lovely, fresh faced, perky young ladies to come look after the household for me while I lie around on the sofa...

Zara - I clean your toilet now yes?



 

Asos - after I hoover I will go wash the car and then mow the lawn, ok?



Monsoon

In other exciting fashion news, Grandma Whacker has appointed me her personal stylist.  Move over Rachel Zoe (and stop making Skyler wear those hats): I am now Stylist to the Stars.  La Whacker is contemplating some Spring fashion purchases to take her through her many social  engagements.  We all know it will end in Marks and Spencer but in the meantime I think these jackets would suit the Big G very well.

Monsoon

In  other news I read this recently.





It made a big impression on me.  It's the true story of an attempt by the Czech Resistance in WW2 to assassinate Reinhard Heydrich, the Nazi Protector of Czechoslovakia and one of the architects of the Holocaust, and all round despicable human being.

 It's not a cosy read obviously given its subject matter, but I thought it was brilliantly done. It helped in terms of suspense that I was ignorant of this chapter of history; if you already know what happened, that might change your experience of the book.

 From reading the book blogs, I gather the novel is an example of "meta fiction", where there is a story within a story: the author recounts the book writing process and also plays with the conventions of the historical novel, telling a bit of the story and then in the next chapter revealing that he invented various details.  This has irritated certain readers but I liked it, I thought it was honest and made his account seem more trustworthy, not less, by showing that many details in historical accounts have been "filled in" by the author.

 Other commenters have also been upset by what they felt was the author's flippant tone and it is true he makes quips, but I found this understandable as a release valve: it helped to bear the horror of what he was describing.  I could not have coped with a highly charged account of the brave Resistance and the Nazi atrocities. As it was, I often had to lay the book down, exclaim "Bastards"" to myself and then carry on reading (which livened things up on one occasion when Mr B mistakenly thought I was referring to Boys 1 and 2, locked at that moment in fraternal combat).

I followed up with this - an eco end of the world novel - gosh, I am cheerful. 

What are you chaps reading at the moment?  Any nice, light, feel good books you can recommend, to balance things up?

Now, it has come to my attention that my follower numbers are sliding, a bit like my ill-fitting jeans.  Right you lot,  remember, IF YOU DARE UNFOLLOW ME, I WILL COME FOR YOU AND SHOW YOU MY TROUSER GAPPAGE IN FULL TECHNICOLOR AND IN CLOSE UP. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.***


*wicked mother
** previous Ways Forward have included shirts and jeans, dresses, tunics with skinnies, gingham, leopard skin, monochrome, jewel colours, pastels, neon, colour blocking, nail varnish, full make up, no make up, tracksuit bottoms, pyjamas,  Converse All Stars, high heels, no heels, no knickers (not really, just checking you are still awake), brogues, loafers, UGG boots....sartorial confusion is a cruel mistress
***there goes another couple of followers

Free the Car Park Two and the Price of Celebrity Accessories

Dahlings, how are we all? Eye lash extensions? Really? Me? Nope, but I do have a new vacuum cleaner...yes, I know I have already mentioned it but I have to get maximum mileage of it, what can I say, things are quiet round here.. No, the vacuum cleaner does not have eyelash extensions either.

But the vacuum cleaner is causing me worry. It works fine but it's the name: Sebo.  It's like one of those sleb (celebrity) names like J-Lo, or Lilo or that singing woman Suebo or ScarJo (Scarlett Johansson, apparently).  I am just waiting for Sebo to be arrested after a fight in a nightclub, or some misunderstanding about some jewellery, or for some tapes to turn up on the internet with Sebo engaging in some hardcore, I mean, hard floor, action.  Plus I am in real trouble if it develops a little sleb style substance abuse problem - with the suction on that thing, it's capable of snorting up the entire narcotics output of Colombia in a couple of days...on the plus side it will probably be literally flying so I can ride it to Tescos..

Meanwhile Grandma Whacker and I have become victims of an outrageous Miscarriage of Justice:  we got a parking ticket at the Happy Valleys Shopping Centre car park.  La Whacker has a special parking card (something to do with shrapnel injuries sustained during WW2, the invasion of Poland, I think.  No, I am joking.  It was on the Russian Front).

Anyway, card has faded due to sun and we got slapped with one of those nasty black and yellow stripey numbers.

But don't worry, we are taking our case right to the very top: we have chained ourselves to the 7th floor of the car park and are not leaving under any circumstances* until the ticket has been rescinded.

In other news I have read this.  It is a thriller, set in Newcastle where Lovely B lives and it even mentions Eldon Square, B's shopping centre de choix.



I watched this, it's ridiculous, over the top and I loved it: gun-toting vigilante middle class housewives...just like me and my other mummy friends..

Took my Midlife Crisis Converse to the supermarket today, where they behaved very badly: they refused to go to the minced beef aisle to get the necessary for a lovely cottage pie.  Instead they shot off to the alcohol section and leered at the vodka, before staggering to Frozen Foods in the hope of picking up vulnerable men buying Ready Meals for one...next time I am wearing my Clarks comfort shoes..

Must go, Grandma W wants me to undo her padlock.


*except for comfort breaks and refreshments - they do a rather nice egg and cress sandwich and pot of tea at Marks & Spencers.

In Which Grandma W Causes A Stir In The Library

Dahlings, Grandma Whacker is, as you will have gathered, a woman of Many and Varied Interests.

The Big G keeps me up to the mark, culture-wise, by giving me reports over the phone on the TV, films and books she has recently been enjoying.

Last week there were 2 phone conversations in one day about this.




Big G is loving this to bits, not least as it name checks lots of places in the Cotswolds near where the G lives.

I was sufficiently stirred to see if our local library had it. The computer said yes.
So I popped in there to pick it up.

Biography section: no sign
Author section: no sign
Returns: no sign

I consult a librarian.
We start again.
Computer says yes.
Biography section: no sign
Author section: no sign
Returns: no sign

The first librarian consults a second librarian.
This is turning into a Serious Library Crisis.
The computer is consulted again..

At this point another library user approaches and helpfully points out that there appears to be a fire and smoke just outside the library window..

I can see the librarians are longing to run out of the building or at least check what is going on.
I stand firm.
I will not be defeated.
There is the honour of the House of Blighty at stake: Grandma W will not accept a mere fire  as a valid excuse for failure to get the book..

Finally another librarian gets involved and remembers she has seen the book.
Hidden away historical section I did not know existed: there it is!

The moral of the story: Grandma W can cause a stir.
Even when she is not there.

Also, if you are a bored teen, don't smoke under the library window.
Some of us want our books found...

You might like this link about Patrick Leigh Fermor.
And yes Big G, I did get a copy with the photos in..

GUB GUB GUB

Need your windows cleaned, love? Pic from Vogue on-line

WARNING: THIS IS ME WHINGEING ABOUT FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS FOR A LAUGH, I DO REALISE HOW LUCKY I AM TO BE ABLE TO DO SO!


Things are not going smoothly at Blighty HQ and I am officially Grumped Up Bigtime (GUB).  Details as follows:

Gary and his very pretty wife, from TNT magazine

  

1. My idyll with Gary Barlow is Over.  He has just announced he is expecting his 4th child with his very pretty, slim, blonde wife.  Wail - he told me he was sleeping in the spare room!  Linda in Chile - I need Daniel Craig back now, just dust him down and post him to me.  Note to Gary's lawyers:  I have never actually even met Gary, these are just the musings of a woman suffering from a midlife crisis, and I can produce a medical certificate to prove it (receipt from TopShop for leatherette leggings).  On the bright side, Gary is still working really well as punishment for Boys 1 and 2 - after a violent, sweary tussle over a hockey stick, I played Gary's very lovely rendition of "A Million Love Songs" in the car this morning and Boy 1 moaned piteously that his ears were bleeding.  By the way, why do Daphnes4Boyz think hockey is a good idea, surely arming them with wooden sticks is an incitement to riot?  Have we learnt nothing from the Peasants' Revolt?
2. Grandma Whacker is in residence again and has been continuing what can only be described as a vendetta against my window cleaners.  A few months ago during a previous Blighty HQ minibreak, Grandma Whacker sacked the cleaners while I was out.  This led to Domestic Tension: Mr B saying to me testily, " Will you please ask YOUR mother to stop sacking MY window cleaners. And you can tell her to get up on the roof herself and clean the skylight." (The last bit was really unfair as Grandma is over 80 and  not as agile as she was and so I would have to give her a leg up, which would strain my back..)  I managed to get the cleaners back by grovelling and having to hear for the 100th time that they clean Sophie Dahl's windows.  Well, history has repeated itself - a couple of days ago while I was out, the window guys came and the Big G "supervised" them. They have also put their prices up. They have not been back to get paid so I assume they have Got the Hump and I will no doubt have to grovel/hear about Sophie D.  But just yesterday Madame Whacker mentioned they did not have their hose attachment thingie...further enquiries have now revealved that these guys were not actually my window cleaners at all, which explains the unexpected price hike...it transpires that the Whacker has surpassed herself, she is now sacking window cleaners who aren't even my window cleaners.  Final score:  The Association of Fenestration Hygiene Technicians - 0; Grandma Whacker - 2.
3. Before Christmas, with guests coming, I went full speed into decluttering, re-purposing and minimalism - I read a lot of those blogs!!  Now every time anyone goes in the garage there is an almighty crash as they fall over all the stuff I have stashed away there, and in the house no one, including me, can find a darn thing.  Grandma has taken it as a personal affront, she suspects I am trying to pull off a Fanny By Gaslight number to make her think she is getting a bit vague with age...
4. Boy 2 was strongly advised not to take his brand new Warhammer figues to school as he would lose them. Boy 2 took his Warhammer figues to school.  Boy 2 has now lost his Warhammer figures.  Last night I found myself deep undercover SAS style dressed all in black including balaclava in the boys changing rooms searching for the missing Warhammer, without success.  Parents are strictly forbidden from entering the changing rooms for child protection reasons so now I will probably be on some sort of register. Super.  In my view, boys should be strictly forbidden from taking Warhammer to school for child protection reasons.
5. Boy 1 came home from Dahpnes4Boyz yesterday and informed me he has lost his trousers and his games shorts.  Is loss of garments from these regions a worrying sign? Don't worry, he still had his white PE shorts which he came home in.
6. Boys 1 and 2 have given me to understand in no uncertain terms (by wailing and shouting) that Daphnes4Boyz is putting them under unbearable academic pressure and that the homework demands are excessive.  They have also told me I do nothing at all all day except think about Gary Barlow and nail varnish and have loads of fun prancing about the supermarket. I find this a bit dismissive of my contribution to Blighty Inc, as there is lipstick to think about too.  But when I suggest that perhaps I might get a job OUTSIDE THE HOME Boy 2 bursts into floods of tears and has to be consoled by his (lazy, stay at home doing nothing) mother...
7. Boy 1's  Science homework is getting too biological for my liking.  I can cope with plant cells but his homework last night seemed to focus rather a lot on, ahem, sperm.  Boy 1 said he would love to see some sperm with their wiggly tails - I was sooo tempted to quip about "wait till you are fourteen and then ....
8. I just managed to delete this entire post and have just re-typed it...aaaaaaaaaaaaggggggh!

GUB GUB GUB!!!

From Wikipedia.  Government Health Warning: this sort of thing can cause excessive expenditure on Warhammer

I leave you with action replay of Grandma cleaning the windows.

Snow Fun Anymore

Yet another photo of the garden in the snow, so lovely that all the weeds are covered up

We have been having a bit of snow here recently.  The Daily Mail on-line (top internet resource of celebs and Grandma Whacker) keeps quoting a town in Buckinghamshire near here as the coldest place in Britain - minus 18 degrees last night, says the Daily Mail excitedly, even colder than Moscow. No other news sites award this town the lowest temp, so I guess someone at the Mail has an auntie living out there with a thermometer in her freezer garden....

Mr Blighty is a very happy man.  He is overcome with a powerful sense of vindication.  Back in August last year he talked through at length the pros and cons of having winter tyres fitted to the car.  This was following Drivegate, when for 3 years in a row it snowed heavily and we couldn't get our car up the drive...and we were down to our last 22 tins of soup and 52 packets of biscuits so things were getting pretty desperate. I did suggest we ate Boy 2 but he wasn't keen, the youth of today have no sense of self-sacrifice or duty.

In August I must admit I did not engage fully in the discussion as it was hot and I was trying to remember whether I had put suntan lotion on  Boys 1 and 2 before their cricket matches..

But Mr B forged onwards, got the tyres fitted in October and then sat back and had the rip taken out of him as we experienced the mildest of winters. But now snow is here, and we are able effortlessly to drive out onto the road without shovelling snow...I was enjoying a smugfest just the other day as I drove the boys to school, overtaking my neighbour who was trudging on foot throught the snow, Russian peasant style...(I am not uncaring though, I did stop and tell her how good my tyres were and how warm it was in the car...).   Smugfest of course brought to abrupt end by arrival back at home after school drop to discover Boy 1's games bag still sitting on the back seat...

Mr B has succeeded where even Napoleon failed - For wont of a horseshoe - fascinating piece about how Napoleon's horses in the Russian campaign did not have winter horseshoes, I am always interested in descriptions of disastrous military campaigns, particularly since many similar debacles during my years attempting to arrive at and then withdraw from toddler singsong playgroups with my own ill-disciplined troops and logistical shortcomings ("If only the Blighty Army had had strait jackets instead of flimsy infant car seats, the Holland Park Mother and Toddler Campaign would have ended very differently..")


So we have snow.  Which to me means happy games in the snow, and some gentle sledging.

Like this.

Snow angel - parentally-approved snow-based activity (Elf and Safety Directive Winter Games 2006874/11)

Yah, Klosters is really fun

Er, steady on, this is not sledging, this looks a bit risky..

Boys 1 and 2 had different ideas.  They managed to find a sheer drop to go down.

Tremendous fun: early on in descent, boy and sledge would part company, boy would shoot down slope ahead of sledge, sledge would then join boy at bottom, clonking him on head...excellent..
Soon, possibly because their heads were getting sore, the boys dispensed with the sledges and just hurled themselves down the slopes..


And imagine my delight when I found there was barbed wire at the top which they were crawling under to get to the edge of the precipice...

Anyone know if you can fit winter tyres to kids?  Or straitjackets to mothers?*


*Think we know the answer to that last question...doctor, doctor, can I come out now?? 

2012 and the Entente Cordiale

Happy New Year Dahlings!

2012 is already off to a really good start - Grandma Whacker has decided to take Boy 1's French language skills in hand.   For Christmas she got him this.

Bless him he was so thrilled with it on Christmas Day, he was speechless, just threw it over his shoulder and carried on unwrapping Warhammer and Lynx body spray.

What prompted this grandmaternal purchase was my surprise when I found out that Boy 1 had been learning French at school for the past 2 years...and also that there were lists of vocab he should have been learning each week.  I can honestly say there was no sign whatsoever of any Francophone goings on in Boy 1's busy schedule of activities.  He also steadfastly denies any knowledge of French, merely repeating his chosen mantra of  "The French are a load of cheese eating surrender monkeys" which he has picked up from Jeremy Clarkson's Top Gear . I had a little chat with Boy 1's French teacher (now I know she exists) about this and we both agreed that we could quite happily throttle Mr Clarkso. In the circs I feel that Boy 1's score of 3 and a half out of 11 for his French test is  - well, not as bad as it could have been.

So this morning at breakfast Grandma W decided it was a good time to debut the language CD.  She would brook no discussion.  She was on a mission.

I did try to point out that perhaps the boys were not in the right frame of mind as they had just been watching snippets of "Come Fly With Me" on YouTube.

But to no avail - on goes the CD.  Off sloped Boy 1 to the other room.  Leaving Boy 2 who at first appeared to be making a fair stab at repeating the phrases on the CD - "Bonjour, comment allez-vous?, je suis en vacances, je suis de Londres", etc

It was just a minute later than both Grandma and I realised he was now happily repeating the phrases- IN ENGLISH.   The nice lady on the tape was instructing cheerfully, "Now it's your turn, say you are on holiday"  - and Boy 2 piped up : " I am on holiday"...now urged the lady, "Say you come from London" - "I come from London" chirrups Boy 2.

Final score - Grandma W/Carla Bruni - 0
Boys 1 and 2/Jeremy Clarkson - 1.

Mrs Blighty, Literary Stalker

As I mentioned in my last post, I am completely caught up in the Gus Dury novels of Tony Black - hardboiled Scottish detective novels set in Edinburgh with gritty characters and punchy dialogue.

I dropped old Tone a line, a bit cheeky, telling him how his readership included none other than Grandma Whacker (who quite frankly at her age should be reading The Lady and, maybe for a bit of excitement,  The Radio Times).

Well, look back at the penultimate comment on my last post - the author himself commented! How very nice of him. So impressed he did that.

Here is Mr Black, talking about the latest Gus Dury novel. 

Mmmmm, he's a bit of a dish, isn't he? And that accent! But I am not going to push my luck.  No more cheeky comments.  Otherwise I might get a visit from a couple of heavies...

A Worrying Pair

Dahlings, there are two members of Blighty Limited who are giving me cause for concern.

First, Boy 2.

I was prepared to overlook this (and blame it on all those wildlife programmes he watches).

Mummy: Can you stop playing now and get out of the bath?
Boy 2: OK, Mummy, the killer whale just has to finish off the seal..

I decided this was just a sign of his keen interest in History and not a warning of  Hannibal Lecter tendencies.

Excerpt from Boy 2's school report - proof that teachers do have a sense of humour or evidence of something more sinister?

But this.

Boy 1 was being particularly noisy and annoying the other evening when Boy 2 was doing his spelling homework.  I do vaguely recall Boy 2 saying something along the lines of "Mummy can't we tape his mouth over?"  It was only later I noticed he had got the electrician's tape from the toolbox in the garage...

So the youngest in the Blighty family is a worry. But so is the more senior end.

I thought Grandmas were supposed to sit serenely doing sewing and smelling of Parma violets and face powder, and for excitement might listen to The Archers.

Not so Grandma Whacker.  During her recent stay she was engrossed in these rugged detective novels set in Edinburgh,  which she has recently discovered at her local library*. 

The dialogue is, to put it mildly, quite robust.   You know you are in trouble when Grandma is reading lines like this, spoken by our hero after he has visited a very rough council estate :

WARNING, THIS IS VERY CRUDE, NOT FOR THE EASILY OFFENDED
"Later, eh. I've just escaped Deliverance territory and I'm mightily relieved not to have a length of hillbilly parked in my farter..."

Should I contact the library and ask them not to let her have any more books by this author?

Must go.  Have to hide the electrician's tape again.


*Gutted;
Loss;
Truth Lies Bleeding; and
Long Time Dead, all by Tony Black.
I have now read Gutted and must say it's excellent, and a refreshing contrast to the whimsical Corduroy Mansions of Alexander McCall Smith