Cyber Sulk?

Well as cyber sullks go, that was quite exceptional. 

Except I wasn't sulking. Honest.

I just seem to have been soooo busy.

So I hired Top Management Consultant Anders Hoch  to review operations at Blighty Inc and make recommendations on how to improve productivity.

Here are excerpts from his report, with my reaction in italics.

Taking Blighty Inc. Forward  Into the 20th Century*

* Anders old chap how much wine did you have at lunch exactly?

Scope of Review

We were asked to review all domestic operations of Blighty Inc.  We observed operations at Blighty HQ and interviewed key personnel in Catering, Procurement, Staff Training, Laundry Services, Hygiene and Health Services, Transport, Policing and Judicial,  Social Activities and Sport (which in this report will be collectively referred to as MUM).
Er, that's  me I think...

We also spoke to the Chief Executive Officer and Finance Director.  So Mr B gets the fancy job title, typical

We had a brief interview with the junior members of the Blighty Inc. team but they were very busy watching telly and were unwilling to fully enter into a dialogue  you mean they ignored you completely as they were watching re-runs of Top Gear on Dave TV


Scope of Activities

The breakdown of MUM activities during a typical working day are:

23%  reading gossip on the Daily Mail website
27% drinking tea, reading fashion blogs
2% furiously carrying out domestic tasks in state of guilt and quiet frenzy
12% looking for reading glasses
5% reading thrillers and detective novels
5% answering cold calls on telephone from insurance companies and acting delightfully dizzy and charming while telling them to get lost
4% ringing Grandma Whacker back and apologising for being so rude under misapprehension that she was selling car insurance and of course you don't mean her to do that with her insurance policy

5% watching X Factor with Mr B and putting on silly Northern accent and exclaiming "oooh Gary has such kind eyes, I really feel he understands me and my journey" and falling off sofa with laughter inventing sob stories for contestants: "It would mean the world to me to win X Factor as I have a conjoined twin who is currently in prison  and a granny confined to a wheelchair by terminal flatulence..."
77% watching junior executives playing rugby in a light drizzle
86% watching junior executives playing football in a light drizzle
34% attending to sports related injuries
36%  sports psychology counselling
7%  cobbling together costumes for school theme days (" I know it's a fitted sheet but well- to- do Romans would definitely have worn fitted sheets, honest!")

10% watching The Killing, exciting Danish police thriller
45% providing taxi services to Blighty junior executives
42% struggling to help with Maths homework


Key Recommendations

• MUM is a very inefficient member of the Blighty team; her role needs to be more focused, and preferably carried out by someone else with better motivation and better skills re work product delivery do you mean get a cleaner?  Yay!
• MUM to attend management training course and be reprogrammed
• MUM must be denied access to the Internet
• MUM to give up tea and novels
• MUM to stop watching X Factor But Gary is the only man who really understands me
• junior executives to give up rugby and football and instead take up needlework at home
• MUM to accept that never going to get through 100 hours of The Killing so return the DVD the library NOW
• junior executives to learn to drive They are only 9 and 10 so this might be a bit tricky

So there we have it.  I am going to be re-programmed.  I  will be dynamic, efficient and focused. 

Just as soon as I've had a cup of tea and a little sit down.. and a look at the Daily Mail website...

Barcelona offers hope for Moana, and some Important Advice

I underwent a bit of a style transformation while in Barcelona, I really wanted to catch that contemporary Spanish vibe

Dahlings, still quite not up to speed, what with the unpacking of suitcases and putting Boys 1 and 2 in the washing machine...

In the meantime, I have encouraging news for Moana.

Whaddya mean, who is Moana?  Come on people, stay with it! Moana is the latest alter ego of Louise of InTownsville, my blogosphere soulmate and partner in crime  really dodgy jokes.http://fromnorthqld.wordpress.com/

  I met Louise in Real Life a few months ago - you can read about the meeting of the Superpowers here.http://blightyworld.blogspot.com/2011/01/when-blighty-met-lousie.html

Thanks to the evil cyclone Yasi, Louise broke her back.  Since then, due to terrible pain, Lou sometimes transforms into Moana, very understandably. 

Lou and I have been joking about getting her a new back somehow....

So,  look what I found in a small restaurant/bar in Barcelona on our first day:

Item 3:  Back with Egg and Chips. 

Lou,  the Back is on its way to you, but I am afraid Boy 1 ate the egg and chips.

(I would like to apologise to Janet of Gardener's Cottage and any other vegetarians/vegans for the extremely carnivorous nature of this menu; I think perhaps the translation is a bit over-enthusiastic.... )

Now, you know how I like to perform a public service role in this blog (I guess I am just sooo pro-active and caring).  Well, I am able to pass on some Important Advice we received on arrival from our receptionist at Juan Towel Hotel.  The receptionist handed us a piece of paper warning us about the danger of pickpockets in Barcelona - the paper listed various scenarios such as:

• if someone tell you in street that you have stain on your clothes do not stop, they will steal   from you
• if someone tell you something is wrong with your car do not stop, they will steal from you
• if someone is playing a game of dice do not play, they will steal from you
• if someone approaches you in the street, run away screaming, it will be Boys 1 and  2 whining for more ice creams
• if you want to be robbed in broad daylight go to the Barcelona football team stadium Camp Nou and hand over your credit card plus remaining Euros in  the gift shop

Gift shop at Camp Nou, background noise is Mrs B weeping into her wallet

Camp Nou stadium

In Barcelona they speak Catalan which to me seems like a mix of French and Spanish...this is the Barcelona club motto: More Than A Club (damn right it is, it's also a brilliant vehicle for the sale of nylon T shirts at extortionate prices...the concentration of man made fibres in that gift shop surely contravenes Elf and Safety rules on fire hazards)

Having rendered us pleasantly neurotic, the receptionist then came out with her coup de grace:

"Is no good putting rucksack in your backside!"  Those fiendish pickpockets will stop at nothing ...

So there you have it, the most useful piece of advice I can pass on to other travellers.

 DON'T PUT YOUR RUCKSACK IN YOUR BACKSIDE

It will only make your eyes water anyway.

You can thank me later.

Barça Barça Barça!

Hello Dahlings! I've been on a mini-break to Barcelona.  Special report: Blighty in Barcelona coming soon!

Apparently they have quite a good football team - with dedicated TV channel, such a comfort to know one needs never miss any footie highlights.......

Mud, Midlife Crises and Mayhem

One word to sum up this half-term: MUD.

Rain + boys + football in the garden = MUD x 10000000.

Sometimes the mud stays in the garden.

But more often than not it comes INSIDE THE HOUSE.

Coating boys.

And their kit.

And the walls.

The floor.

The bath.

The shower.

(Dear K., sorry I sent your children home today with a large plastic bag of mud.  If you dig around you should find their clothes and shoes in there somewhere.  Don't worry about letting me have the mud back, you can keep it, we have plenty here, and I know you will enjoy it - it's organic).

What was once a lawn, is now a treacherous mud wrestling arena.

Hey. Silver lining.

Must contact GirlonGirlAction TV...

While I am busy with my mud/mop midlife crisis, Mr B is having a midlife moment of his own.

He would really like one of these.

Taken from MenoPorsche website, vroom vroom

Then a few months ago he wanted to buy one of these.



Some sort of electric guitar

No, he can't play the guitar but that's not the point.

The latest is he wants to get one of these.

Take from WaterRower website, sploosh, sploosh

Yep, a rowing machine.

Look, they come in different finishes and really set off your decor a treat.

You could also hang trousers on them, or a train a plant to grow up them.

Or spend the evening looking at them, like this couple. What fun!

Maybe you are wondering where the mayhem comes in.  It doesn't.  We take things steady at Blighty HQ.   I just needed another "m" word.

But I do have some important correspondence update news.

Do you remember I read this fab book recently?

Well I emailed Ms Bussman to tell her how much I enjoyed it and she emailed me back.  How kind and polite of her.  I was so thrilled I wanted to email her back and swear undying devotion and become her new best friend but Mr B warned me: "That would be stalking and we have already talked about that."  He is no fun these days.

 I also had a reply to my tragic empty Crunchie letter. http://blightyworld.blogspot.com/2011/02/complete-clock-up-and-costume-drama.html They kindly sent us a £2.50 voucher.  But sadly their letter was a standard form one. I don't think they really took my letter seriously for some reason.

Well the boys go back to school tomorrow. Just in time.  Can't take much more boy humour.  I leave you with their "joke" of the week ( I use the term "joke" in its widest possible sense) :

Boyz:  "Mumeeeee, what do you call a winged horse?"

Mrs B: "Er, dunno."

Boyz: "Pegasus."
Mrs B: Fascinating.

Boyz: "Right, so what do you call a winged willy?"

Mrs B: "Leave me alone, I'm on the loo."

Boyz (through bathroom door):  "Penisus!"

 (Cue raucous laughter, collapsing onto floor, shrieking etc.  Really must get myself under control).

I blame the parents. I really do.

Better than a Subscription to Vogue??

Dahlings, one of the utter joys I derive from being a parent is the weekly school newsletter; taking into account the school fees, this is probably the most expensive magazine subscription ever, but well worth it for the sheer entertainment value.  So I thought I would reproduce a newsletter here for you, with a tiny bit of artistic whatnot, and of course name changing to protect the not so innocent...

Daphnes4Boyz “Getting On Down wiv a Traditional Educashun”

Weekly Newsletter – Spring Term 2011-01-26 
SPONSORED BY CLEARITALL NIT LOTION : "Spray it on fast, Get them Back to Class!"

Week 2

Reminders and Changes to Arrangements

Friday’s Disco – please note, skateboards and younger siblings must not be brought into the disco.
Music Examinations – boys involved are reminded to bring their instruments. No chewing gum for wind instrumentalists.
School Pick Up Times – parents are reminded that the pick up time for Year 5 is 4.15pm unless they have a younger brother in the school, in which case pick up is 4.13pm, unless there are matches in which case the boys should proceed to match tea, having moved their sports bags back to the changing room together with their school bags, provided they do not need to get Matron to sign any medication forms first; however, if they have clubs or prep that day they should move their school bags before match tea to their classrooms, unless there is no match in which case they should wait on the front step until collected by their class teacher, unless they have a younger brother in the school who is going to Late Boys in the library, in which case they must wait in the foyer and parents should park in the front car park. Please ensure younger siblings not involved in matches do not eat the sandwiches provided for parents of away teams.

Letter from the Headmaster

It has been a pleasure to work through the first week of term. So my staff have told me, via email to the Headmasters’ Retreat I am attending with my wife Maureen in Mauritius. We have been looking at some very interesting topics including mezzanine financing for school catering expansion, securitisation of playing fields and the tax advantages of moving Years 3-5 offshore.


Work is progressing well on the new ice rink and we hope to host our first ice hockey match later this year. The helipad should be back in use next week. Parents are requested to ensure their children duck when being dropped off.

I wish the boys who are sitting entrance exams this term lots of luck. Top tip: always have a clean handkerchief.

Picture from Down with Skool by Geoffrey Willans and Ronald Searle, copyright of the authors, see also fantastic tribute website for Nigel Molesworth http://www.stcustards.free-online.co.uk/

Finally, all boys are reminded that the school dog, Tooting, is out of bounds and under no circumstances are boys to feed him.  The boys caught giving him baked beans last term have been dealt with in the appropriate manner.

Pinky Arbuthnot, Headmaster

Request from the Director of Sport

Picture as before, copyright Willans and Searle

It has come to my attention that some boys are indulging in exhibitionist and sometimes unseemly goal celebration displays during football matches. Boys are reminded that skidding across half the pitch on their knees, performing robot or sprinkler dances or grabbing their groin regions and jiggling about are NOT acceptable. Parents are also requested to refrain from such behaviour.

Mr T Woods, Director of Sport

On-Line Poker Championships

Congratulations to George Osborne (Year 3) for winning the Under 8s On-Line Poker.

From Matron

There has been a case of nits reported in the School Staff room, please will all teachers check their hair, if applicable.

Please can Jeremy Plimsoll’s mother bring in lots of pairs of spare underpants, to avoid Jeremy being embarrassed by having wet pants. We are keen to handle his continued incontinence in a sensitive and confidential manner.

Lost Property

Ferguson, A. – mouthguard, braces, chewing gum, hairdryer
Allen, W. – 3 pairs of glasses, lost last term, saxophone
Smeagol S. - small gold ring
Blighty Major – rugby shorts, rugby top, towel, tracksuit bottoms, blazer, trousers, rugby socks, underpants, football boots, judo suit, Mexican hat, stick on moustache, recorder, tennis racket, hockey stick, house keys, mobile phone, hamster, tie, gloves, sunhat
Blighty Minor – Panasonic flatscreen TV, packet of Ready Salted Crisps, hankerchief (green)
Attenborough Minor – small chimpanzee answering to the name of Ernest
Wells, O. - sledge

Mrs Colpal, Matron

Picture as before, copyright Willans and Searle

Parents Society

Forthcoming Events:

Cake Sale (minimum contribution – 150 cupcakes/£500)
Disco ( skateboards and younger siblings welcome)
Rock and Roll Dancing Evening (in partnership with St John’s Ambulance)
Staff v Fathers Arm Wrestling
N Lawson and O Winfrey

Drama Department

Parents of Y5 boys are advised there is no need to order ready-made Tudor costumes for the forthcoming production of “Off with Her Head”; a simple homemade doublet and hose in gold brocade is sufficient. Mothers proficient at knitting are asked to volunteer to knit replicas of Hampton Court Palace and The Tower of London.

K Winslet, Head of Drama

Match Results

Tues vs St Alcatraz Football

U8A – lost 3-1
U8B1 – lost 5-1
U8D1 – lost 12 - 1
U8D2 – lost 24-23

Stallions A – lost 6-2

Pixies A – lost 15-10

Wed vs Cheltenham Ladies Hockey

U10As – lost 23-1 (match abandoned due to injuries)

Picture as before, copyright Willans and Searle

Craving Normalcy

Christmas is well and truly over : tree out, fairy lights hopelessly tangled up and put away ready for next year's annual Swearfest, tinsel more or less hoovered off the carpet, elderly relatives woken up and posted back home.


But we are still not back to normalcy at Blighty HQ. ( Love the word "normalcy", so much more important sounding and transatlantic than "normal" and "normality". It's even got into the Oxford English Dictionary, albeit in brackets with "N. Amer" next to it, I suspect the original draft written by some fusty old codger read "N.Amer oh how ghastly, first hamburgers and now this, whatever next ..." until the editor very wisely took that bit out....)



We have yet to achieve Normalcy chez Blights as Boys 1 and 2 are STILL not back at school. Unbelievable. Their Christmas hols seemed to have lasted about 2 years. It seems a long time since Boxing Day when we did this.



Since playing on the Wii nonstop for 3 weeks, the boys now have to be dragged everywhere



Now all the snow has gone, and so has Mr Blighty - back to his office, including weekends. He is still busy trying to Get Something Out because someone important Needs to See It. Apparently. In my darker moments I wonder if he is just avoiding leftover turkey recipe 51 (rissoles a la Dettol). In exciting news Mr B's boss has been made a "Sir" in the New Years Honours. How I long for Mr B to be knighted, then I could be Lady Blighty which would look really good on my Tesco loyalty card..sadly no chance of that, I am afraid, but a deluded middle aged woman can always dream...



Well, the hols have been very nice, quality time and all that, but please could Boys 1 and 2 go back to school. Now. I need to get on with important motherly activities like reading detective novels, drinking tea and ordering nail polish over the internet - sorry, I mean, making nutritious food for the freezer, ironing and er, stuff like that.


The boys need to go back to school and become reacquainted with Real Life and their lower limbs - they have been doing far to much of this.







Grandma has been doing sterling work entertaining them: reenacting William Tell was perhaps not the best idea but the poker has gone down a treat; every night I just have to make the boys give Grandma back the title deeds to her house and her car keys, and all is well.

But the end is in sight - school beckons this Wed. In preparation I have begun the Shoe Ritual. Boy 2 is putting up a spirited fight against getting hand me down football boots - the latest argument, most forcefully put by Mr Shouty himself, is that he is shrinking, so all these boots are too big and he needs swish new boots from the fancy pants sports shop. Good Effort Boy 2, have you considered a career in politics (but you may wish to turn the volume down first)?

More bl**dy shoes, where do they all come from, do I have 6 children rather than 2?

And now a mystery: where is Louise from Townsville? Yoohoo Louise - are you out there? Louise is due to be in London any day now and I am hoping to meet her. Louise - email me if you read this!!

Finally, I continue to be interested in baby things due to you know who's exciting news (no, I am not talking about Mrs Beckham). Look at this Baby Dior clobber, isn't it all divine? I wonder if they do that pink furry coat in my size? Because there's no chance that I'm shrinking! Not after Christmas!

Just had a thought: if Boy 2 persists with this shrinking malarkey, I shall threaten to buy him this pink coat. That'll put a stop to it.

Back

Wonder what size these are?

Phew!

Today Boys 1 and 2 went back to school. And earlier this week Mr B went back to the Big House (as I have now decided to refer to his work; watch out for Mean Hal, Mr B, don't agree to be his special friend !)

Stressful times, getting those boys ready, the amount of kit required is quite something (cycle clips - check; purple leotard - check; power tools - check..) and it all has to be LABELLED CLEARLY, preferably with their name (666 does not give the right message). I am not good at sewing, I wonder how Boy 1 will get on at rugby with my jeans sewn onto his rugby top. Note to self: do not watch telly while doing labels, process takes 5 hours for one label and final product shoddy.

The whole school outfitting effort turned into some sort of Maths problem, the type which regularly reduced me to tears of frustration at age 14:

• Boy 1's rugby shorts are slightly small for him (not threatening his chances of ever reproducing too small, just too short too be cool, apparently)

• Boy 2 needs rugby shorts

• The 6 pairs of shorts bought over the internet for Boy 2 are all too big for him and too small for Boy 1
• Boy 1's rugby shorts are slightly too big for Boy 1 (they do not fall down during test runs in the house but if another boy grabs them during rugby, they could come down, possibly bringing Boy 2's underpants down with them)
• The school shop was open on Tues, not Wed as you thought, so too late to buy shorts from there

Calculate the risk of the shorts coming down, and years of fees to therapist for Boy 2, versus the cost of buying new shorts and the cost of Boy 1 not looking cool.

Also work out how long it will take to fill a barrel with water if the cubic capacity of the barrel is 3500 cubic thingies and the water flows at a rate of 2.5 whatsits per minute when the train goes into the tunnel. You may use those baffling sine and cosine tables, the purpose of which you will spent the rest of your life wondering about.

You have 20 minutes. For Chrissakes do not show your workings, it's bad enough having to mark this drivel anyway and I'd like to get a round of golf in sometime.

Oh arse! I'll just shove Boy 2 in Boy 1's shorts and tell him to run really fast and make sure no one tags him. Or maybe some Superglue...

Wonder what size these are?

A game of two halves

The other night we went "en famille" to the England v Hungary football match at Wembley Stadium. First I was quite shocked that I had agreed to go. Must have been when I wasn't paying attention. But then I was actually excited.

I have only ever been to one professional football match before in my life, and that was when I was 13 and on a German exchange week, staying with Uschi Langenbeinen who was chronologically the same age as me but in every other way at least 10 years older. We went to see the home team Leverkusen play. (Leverkusen is an industrial city near Koln, most of the city worked for the big chemical company Bayer). Uschi spent the match practising snogging with her boyfriend Boris von Bratwurst and I spent the match practising smoking with my friend from home, Lizzie Dingle. By the end of the match Uschi had an impressive love bite, I had gone green and Lizzie's hair had got singed twice. But enough of these reminiscences of my jeunesse dore.

Mr B explained that it was a "friendly" match. That does not mean they are all cuddly and happy and then their mummies give them chips and ice cream afterwards; no, it means it doesn't count towards any tournament but they still want to win. And Mr Capello the England manager would be trying out his players. And the hardcore England fans would boo any player who was in the World Cup, to signal their disapproval of their Disastrous Performance. (copyright every English newspaper, TV channel and the man down the pub).

We went by train to Wembley. We enjoy a train journey.

I liked this Communist Russian style statue at the train station. This is in a nearby town, traditionally a very wealthy commuter area. This must be the only member of the downtrodden proletariat ever seen in the People's Republic of StockbrokerVille.

When we got there, there were lots of people, but it was very well organised. There were police and police horses. They must have heard about Blighty family outings. Our water bottles were confiscated in case we turned them into missiles but we were allowed to keep a huge pair of heavy binoculars. Strange.

We were in something called the Family Enclosure. It makes sense. You don't want rough, uncouth, noisy groups prone to senseless violence,verbal outbursts and unpredictable lavatory requirements anywhere near quiet, reformed professional football hooligans who have come to watch the football in peace.

Just look at this frightening pair. I gave them a wide berth. Scary. ( What's that Mr B? Oh, are they? Thought they looked familiar).


The architecture was impressive. We went up and up this immense escalator.

The pitch looked enormous to me. Fancy running up and down that for 45 mins each half, er, 90 mins in total. Made me feel tired just looking at it.

Lots of seats. Over there was a mini brass band that lead the chanting. More about chanting later.

Boy 2 wants me to point out that there were about 72,024 people there that night. Boy 2 has more to say: "First Hungary scored and then I wanted my money back and I wanted to go home, and I was very cross and sad and the linesman needs glasses because that goal was sooo not over the line and I got itchy pitchy and had to eat 7 biscuits and it was hopeless we had lost and Daddy said it is not over till the final whistle blows and I did some clapping with Mummy - clap clap, clap clap clap etc INGLUND! - and Mummy was really into it, so embarrassing - and then......Steven George Gerrard scored and we all stood up and cheered and it was brill..... and then.....Steven George Gerrard scored again and it was brill and I always knew we would win and what a great night and Mummy jumped up and down and shouted at Gerrard "Take your shirt off" and Daddy told Mummy to sit down and behave otherwise she would lose a star on her star chart..."

Boy 1 wants to add " it was fun, they booed whenever an England player who had been in the World Cup got the ball, and they booed Rooney when he went off and he had on red boots, and Frank Lampard had blue boots and Joe Hart the goalkeeper had white boots and all the Hungarian players were called Zoltan, and then we went home on the train and it was dark and we went to bed and no bath, yay."

Mrs B here again. I would just like to add that the whole cheering thing is very cathartic and tremendously enjoyable and the only reason I wanted Gerrard to take his shirt off was I was worried he was overheating after all that exertion...

Photo from Metro website

Blighty and Lovely B - Living the Dream

Lovely B and I continued to live it up, big-time, during her stay.

Below, we were invited by friends to an impromptu lunch and to watch the England v Germany World Cup match. The husband is an amazing cook and whipped up this paella and made this designer salad. Yum! Meanwhile SuperK, wife to SuperHub and mother of three, had just done a run for charity in the blistering heat. She took it all in her stride that her house had been invaded by the Blighty brigade, went and showered and reappeared in 5 minutes looking fab with impeccable blow dried hair. I was impressed. In her place I would have hidden in the garden until everyone had gone home, and then booked into a rest home for 3 months. Sadly I had to leave early with Boy 2 - as many of you know, he was distraught and inconsolable when Germany scored their first goal, and had to go home for emergency application of ice cream and quality computer time. Thank goodness he missed the England disallowed goal, he would have been apoplectic!

Behold the gloriousness of the paella!


And the beautiful salad arrangement

A few days later Lovely B and I sallied forth to London on the train. Last year I made B get some culcha at the National Portrait Gallery. This year we headed straight to the big Marks & Spencer flagship store at Marble Arch. We stormed through that place! I was brought up on M&S, in fact I suspect my mother got me from M&S, it is definitely in my DNA.

Above and below, we noticed a worrying trend: tops sold with a necklace included. Very worrying, very Stepford Wives, I thought. M&S want us all to go round properly and identically accessorised. You have been warned! Don't linger too long in the store or you will be replaced by a perfect, eager to please automaton replica of yourself. Mr B wants me to go there again. To the reprogramming department.

It was lucky that Lovely B was with me. She found me mesmerised by these, muttering to myself, "must buy, must have". These are the scary cousin of TODs: Leggings from Hell.
Lovely B proceeded with an intervention. She was tough, but it needed doing.

We had another tricky moment later. "Move away from the unsuitable skirt" said B firmly. I whimpered (a bit like Golum and his Precious) but obeyed.

What is it with me and surgical bandage pink?

Lovely B and I tried stuff on. I tried this Roman gladiator outfit. It was not a success, but would have frightened the lions away.

After waiting for hours, Lovely B had to come rescue me from Changing Room Attire Panic - I always seem to get in a muddle trying things on. The fun I had struggling into a full length wetsuit a couple of years ago! The general fraughtness was intensified by Boys 1 and 2 whipping the changing cubicle curtains open every couple of minutes. Bless. After only 4 hours of struggling, I emerged red-faced but triumphant, only to be told I had got the blasted thing on back to front. Those James Bond girls never have all this trouble!

Since our retail rampage I have returned almost all my purchases, including multiple school trousers for boys, which was the good mother bit of the day and the Mr Blighty Expenditure Committee official purpose for M&S trip.

However, I kept these, which I LOVE. But look,the sequin arrangement is not done the same on each shoe! However, since my size seems to be sold out now, I have decided to put up with their imperfections (as they will have to put up with mine!)

And don't worry that I am under-curated, clothes-wise - I have swapped for these tops instead, also returning that peasant top thingie I got from Zara, the beige one I showed you before. I am adept at retail arbitrage and creative accounting, I could teach those guys at Enron a thing or two. ....oh, now I see what Mr B is worried about!

Bit anxious someone might mistake me for a paper doily and put a cake on me, note to self: stay away from tea shops. On the other hand, shame to pass up chance of free cake.

Below, only cost £10 as from big kids H&M, sometimes it pays to have junior bosoms.

But does it look too ickle girlie?

Here we go again - many happy returns!