Writing Prompt Number 13 - Write about your day

Today I did something I’ve never done before and it was good.  I booked my place and bought the train tickets a few weeks ago and now it was finally happening.  I was going to a briefing day all about the type of work I do and the changes the government are making this year that will affect how I do my job.  I know, I know, thrilling stuff.  So now to embrace today’s writing challenge and tell you about my day.

Manchester Road train station in Burnley has gone through a refurbishment recently and this was the first time I had needed to use it since it re-opened.  I knew there was a fancy new car park, so I felt it would be fine for me to leave my car there all day, and it would have been fine if there had been any spaces left when I arrived at seven thirty this morning.  Clearly this was not early enough as it was already full with the cars of serious commuters.  No matter, as I knew there was a street I could park on just a couple of hundred yards away, although this did leave me rushing to get to the platform as I’d not left much contingency time in my schedule.

Got to the station and had four minutes to spare before the train arrived.  Another first for today was taking the train to Manchester via Todmorden so I was looking forward to seeing some new scenery on my journey.  There are beautiful hills and countryside in that direction which I got to see from a different perspective on my trip. Very sheer slopes with rippling lush green ridges where many years ago farmers built dry stone walls and sheep still graze.

 I was sitting on the left side of the carriage and as we pulled out of Todmorden station I noticed some large white letters part way up one of the inclines.  Sort of like a smaller version of the Hollywood sign, and it said “kindness”. I have no idea why it was there or who could have possibly erected it, but it made me smile.  What a lovely word to see so boldly displayed as you go about your day.

The beautiful countryside turned into the urban outskirts of Manchester and the train was filling up.  Not long to Victoria station now. Alight the train and join the mass of workers in their everyday routine.  A quick journey on the Metrolink of just a few stops to the other side of the main shopping centre and I arrive at the hotel where the briefing day is taking place.  I’m the second delegate to arrive, and we make small talk that I can’t even remember now, until it was time to start. The man presenting the guidance today was a tall, older man who was wearing a smart dark blue suit and a red patterned tie.  He’d been talking for a few minutes when I noticed that the collar of his jacket was turned up slightly at the back and I could see the paler blue lining of the underneath.  Once you notice something like that, you can’t un-notice it and every now and again my eyes were drawn back to the offending collar.

There was lots of information to take in, and it was helpful to hear the different, and also shared perspectives of other people in the same line of work.  The morning passed quickly and as lunch was provided in the package, we made our way down to the hotel brasserie to eat.  We were still a few floors up and there was a good view of Piccadilly Gardens to take in as we relaxed for a while.

Back to the briefing for the afternoon and again I saw the upturned collar.  Clearly he hadn’t taken his jacket off to eat and he couldn’t have been to a bathroom either, or surely he would have noticed in the mirror and straightened it.  I do wonder if any of the other people at the conference saw it?

The journey home was delayed a little due to the emergency services having to deal with an incident somewhere along the track.  I have no more information than that, but it did mean the train home was six minutes late.  I hope that is an indication that whatever caused this was not serious as it didn’t take long to deal with.  The platform was full by this time and when the train pulled in, the announcer said that this train consisted of two carriages.  You could hear the groans as people realised they would most likely be standing up the whole way back.  However, being a woman of a certain age and with the confidence to give people the “I’m going first and you’re not going to get in my way” look, I managed to get a seat.  Unfortunately, that seat was right opposite, and facing, the toilet door.  I couldn’t even look out of the window as it was behind me.  Good thing I had plenty of battery left on my phone so I could keep myself occupied with catching up on the important news of the day, like the article about the primary school in Scotland that cut obesity and improved behaviour by having the children run a mile each day, and the lady who halved her family’s grocery bill by living off out of date food, and not forgetting that Harry Styles had lunch in Malibu.

So, how was your day?

My 500 Words - Today's Writing Project

I don’t like my mother in law and she doesn’t like me.  Now, I’m not just assuming she doesn’t like me, I know it because she has told me in no uncertain terms.  If you were unfortunate enough to encounter this woman and you were to ask her to describe me, then the words she would use would be snobbish, fat and not good enough for her son.  Now let me describe her to you.

She is 74 years old and around five foot 4 inches tall.  I’d say she is fairly average build for a woman of her age.  There’s some extra meat on the bones and the usual age related general drift south of all things that once stayed present and correct.  Her hair has always been quite blonde, so although there are grey streaks, you can’t really see them because they blend in with the rest of her coiffure.  Have you heard of the term “resting bitch face”?  Well I’m pretty sure she’s the reason this phrase was invented, although in her case it’s not just an unfortunate and incorrect assumption of her demeanour.

 

Here’s a story about one reason for my dislike of this woman.  It was Christmas several years ago, and on Boxing Day my mother and father in law were visiting us in our home.  We’d had a buffet lunch that I’d spent all morning preparing when I would rather have been having a nice long lie in to recover from the excesses of the day before, and we were sitting in the lounge relaxing with a nice cup of tea.  She hadn’t even said thank you for any of this and was now slumped in my favourite armchair with her usual scowl as though she’d been smacked round the face with a wet flannel.

I was trying to make polite conversation for the sake of my husband and for on-going family relations, but it wasn’t easy.  There are only so many things you can say about the English weather or so many questions you can ask about what she got for Christmas.  We had bought her what was, in my opinion, a very nice present that I had taken quite a bit of thought over.  It was a professional family portrait with my husband, our two children and the family dog.  I had asked her if she liked it and her response was “It’s fine, but you know I don’t like dogs so I don’t know why you’d want to include him in the picture.  I’m sure I don’t know where I’m going to put it”.  See what I mean?   I think my response was quite restrained, considering, but apparently it pushed our laboured relationship too far.  I just pointed out that perhaps if she’d put a bit more care and thought into the presents she gave to her grandchildren then maybe they’d be in here spending time with her instead of playing with gifts that were bought as stocking fillers by their aunts and uncles who hadn’t even seen them since last Christmas.

She didn’t take this too well, and the next thing I knew she was coming towards me with the speed of a young foal, having leapt out of the soft cushioning of my beloved armchair and covering the eight foot distance across the room in seconds, to land a punch smack bang in the  middle of my face.  My eyes watered immediately; I covered my face with my hands, and after the initial shock and disbelief I ran out and headed for the bathroom.  This woman was not going to get the satisfaction of seeing me crumple into a mass of tears, blood and mucus.

While I was in there checking for damage and composing myself, I heard the front door open and close.  My husband had suggested that they leave before I came back down.  I admit what I had said was intentionally provocative, but I’d never been physically struck in my life before.  How on earth could I be connected to a person who could stoop to that level, and what’s more, how had my husband turned out as well as he did with a mother like that?  It was for his sake that I resolved to leave the matter there, and we never mentioned it again.

A few months later when mother’s day was approaching my husband asked me to pick up some flowers while I was out shopping for food, and he would take them round to his mum the next day.  I chose a lovely arrangement with what I knew were her favourite colours.  Large pink daisies and some delicate gypsophila.  I showed them to my husband and he agreed that they would be something she would like.  Then I picked out one of the longest stemmed flowers and took it upstairs with me to the bathroom, where I pulled down my pants and wiped the stem in the crevice of my ample behind before replacing it in the bunch.

To this day it still makes me smile at the thought of her taking the flowers off her beloved son, holding them close to her nose and breathing in their sweet fragrance. 

First World Problems

One of the writing prompts for my 500 word a day challenge was to make a list.  How could you possibly reach 500 words with a list?  Challenge accepted, albeit not on the day the prompt was given.  

First world problems; not in any particular order.

1. The air from the hand dryer in a public bathroom is cold.
2. The new size of Magnum ice creams is smaller, so although they say you now get four in a box, they are four smaller ones.
3. You have to pay 30 pence to go to the toilet at Euston station.
4. The ending of Lost made you realise you’d wasted 121 hours over 6 long years waiting for the climax that was supposed to blow you away.
5. The supermarket has run out of your favourite coffee mousse again.
6. The latest video of a cute cat on the internet keeps buffering so you can’t watch it straight away.
7. Firefly didn’t get renewed
8. Jersey Shore did get renewed.
9. Your Amazon order didn’t arrive next day like it was supposed to.
10. They’d run out of the third meat option when you got to the front of the queue for your Sunday Carvery.
11. You bought tickets to see a stand-up comedian that you really like, and forgot to go to the gig when the date arrived.
12. It’s too warm in your modern open plan office and you’re falling asleep at work.
13. You didn’t get any decent photos of your dog dressed up in his Christmas Elf costume because he wouldn’t sit still long enough, and then sulked so you had to take it off him.
14. You found a small tear in the duvet on the enormous bed in your five star hotel room after they’d given you complimentary champagne when you checked in.
15. The spring loaded lid on the bin in the kitchen at work snaps back when you put your lunch rubbish in there and you get someone else’s gunk on your hand.
16. The Tivo box stopped recording 1 minute before the end of your favourite show and you missed the punch line.
17. You can’t find the garlic crusher when you’re making a chilli.
18. Spar shops in Vienna sell delicious deli food, but Spar shops in England don’t.
19. They’ve run out of peanut butter cheesecake in the American Diner you went into for dinner when that’s the one thing on the menu that you really wanted.
20. You have to load and unload the dishwasher every day
21. You couldn’t get your favourites seats in the IMAX cinema on the opening day of the next Marvel film you’ve been waiting for because someone had already booked them.
22. They changed the name of Jif to Cif in the year 2000 and you still can’t get used to it.
23. Cadburys have changed the recipe of their crème eggs and they don’t taste the same.  You didn’t like them anyway, but you’re still outraged.
24. Plastic carrier bags now cost 5p.
25. Having to find your old tin opener because you were reduced to buying store brand baked beans at the end of the month and they didn’t have a ring pull on the top.

Advice to my Younger Self

As I've mentioned recently, I'm undertaking a writing challenge.  As part of this, I am emailed a daily writing prompt that I can use if I'm out of ideas of my own.  I haven't used them up to now as I've always managed to come up with something myself, but I like today's prompt so decided to go with it.

Today’s writing prompt for me is to write a letter to your children or your younger self.  So far I've not used the writing prompts as I've always managed to find something hidden inside myself, but I like the sound of this one, and in the absence of anything better this evening, this is what I'm going to try and do.

I'm no spring chicken and there’s been a lot of life experience going on over the last fifty two years, but what out of all this would I want to warn my younger self about?  I'm trying to picture times in my life when I've felt completely without hope.  Of course I've made bad choices sometimes, but would I really stop myself from going through them?  If I hadn't got married to my first husband, I wouldn't have my three amazing older daughters, so although he was a very difficult person to love and I went through some terrible times because of him, I can’t regret it because of what I now have, even though at the time is was painful.

Carrying on with that train of thought, if I hadn't got divorced at the time that I did, I wouldn't have been around to meet my second husband who I have now been married to for 21 years and with whom I had my fourth beautiful daughter.

I would never tell myself not to fall in love with some of the boys I thought I was in love with, because they all played a part in my teenage years, and again, although there was hurt, there was also experience.

I suppose the one thing I would tell myself, is to believe in myself more and do what truly makes me happy, as what I still regret now is that I didn't go to study music when I was young.  I didn’t develop my voice and I didn't make a living from singing.  I had a good start with the choir and orchestra at my high school, and the singing lessons that my parents paid for, but then I made choices that took me down a different route and I didn't have the confidence or the belief that even with young children I could still have done something with my talent, rather than thinking that being a mum was all that I was ever going to be.  I thought you couldn't do both and that my chance had passed, but I was wrong. 

I was still in my early twenties when my two oldest girls were born, so my voice had not yet fully developed and there would still have been time to train it and use it more. I know my parents would have supported me if I had tried to do this, even if my husband didn’t, but I suppose he was the biggest influence in my life at that time, and like I said, he was a difficult person.  I have used my voice over the years in choirs and amateur operatic societies, but I know it could have been more if only I’d tried that bit harder.

Here’s something I think I've only ever told one other person.  When I was growing up I always thought I would be somebody.  That I would get discovered and spend my life travelling the world singing for a living.  I couldn't even comprehend how you could exist for years and years just going to work every day without everyone knowing who you were.  How could I live in this world anonymously, doing the same things day in and day out?  It didn't bear thinking about and I was so sure it wouldn't happen to me, but it did happen.  It crept up on me as each year passed and no one came knocking on my door to hand me a contract.  Well why would they?  I didn't go out and seek it. I stayed home and let life happen instead of making my life what I wanted it to be.  

So that would be my advice to my younger self.  Get off your butt and go out and find what you’re looking for, because you can be absolutely sure that no one is going to bring it to you.

Charlie and Grandma's day of fun

Whilst Bekah is away being all brainy and stuff at her Academic conference in Amsterdam with her beau Mr Bentley, grandma has been left in charge of Charlie.  I have been looking forward to this day for weeks because don’t often get the chance to have my grandson all to myself.  No parents to ask permission from, no Katy to whisk him away on some chasing game or to play a two year old’s version of hide and seek, and no granddad to growl like a bear with.

We started our day at 6am, discovering that he’d soaked through everything in his cot with a very leaky wet nappy, so first thing was to change him into clean pyjamas and strip all the covers off.  After that we got to have cuddles in bed and read stories for a little while.

It turns out that the met. Office was right and it had snowed overnight.  When I told Charlie to look out of the window and he saw all the snow, the first thing he said was “snowman”.   After breakfast, my plan was to take the dogs for a walk; I was looking forward to our trip out to Gawthorpe hall with them even more than I had been.  Now, I’ve been out on trips with young children on my own before, and I’ve been out on trips with dogs on my own before, but I’ve never combined the two until today.  There were leads, harnesses, jackets, treats and poop bags to organise before I even started on coats, boots and hats for Charlie and me, and let me tell you, it’s not so easy walking from the front door to the car with two excited dogs and a slow walking two year old in the snow.

By the time we got there later in the morning, it had started to rain, so all the snow was turning a bit slushier and there were lots of puddles, which Charlie really enjoyed until he realised his socks were getting wet inside his boots.  Lottie, with her short legs and fine coat of hair was not keen on some of the deeper puddles.  Linus, as usual, was running around and digging holes and generally enjoying the fresh air.  Nothing much bothers him, he just loves to play.

Back home and dry and time for lunch, which for Charlie was gluten free seeded bread toasted, with tune and avocado.  He sat in his high chair eating his while I was in the kitchen preparing my own food.  I could just hear him going “yummy yummy yummy” every minute or so, and when I came back to check on him he was finishing off the last little bit.

Afternoons are all about napping, and with Charlie tucked up in his cot, I got to have my nap on the sofa with Linus at my feet and Lottie sitting on my shoulder.  I’d set a timer on my phone to make sure we didn’t stay asleep too long, but I was woken up by my it ringing and Katy asking me to go and pick her up from college because she had a few things to bring home after her A ‘level drama practical exam this morning.  As I was coming back downstairs after getting Charlie, the timer on my phone started to go off so he was shouting “phone ringing, phone ringing”.  He rushed to get it and bring it to me so that I could answer it quickly.  He seemed quite concerned that it had been “ringing” for a while and wanted to make sure I answered it and didn’t miss the call.

I had been telling Charlie where we going while I was putting his coat and shoes on, so in the car on the way there he was calling out "Katy, where are you", but you have to imagine the sing song voice you would use if you were playing hide and seek or peek a boo with a little one, and then take all the consonants out of "where" and "you", so it sounds more like "Katy, ere are ou".  I mean, I guess you had to be there, but it is just the sweetest.

Post nap snack

While we were waiting for dinner to cook I thought it would be nice to watch a dvd instead of the usual toddler t.v. that’s on at that time of day.  I chose Wall-E, but it didn’t really hold Charlie’s attention much as her was far more interested in how long dinner was going to be.

The day ended with cuddles and stories before settling him down to sleep.  Can’t wait to do it all again tomorrow.

School Plays

As a parent I have, over the years, attended many school plays, nativities and concerts.  As a parent I'm supposed to say that these were all wonderful experiences that made me proud, and that they were all precious moments that I will cherish for ever as I think back on the formative years of all my beautiful daughters.  However, as a parent I have taught my children to be honest, and it’s something I feel is a very important principle to live by.  So let me be honest.  Some of those concerts and plays were just the most mind numbingly boring and excruciatingly awful moments of my life.  Obviously my girls are enormously talented and just shone out in whichever way they were taking part, and if the concert I was having to sit through was all being performed by them, then they would have all been the best shows ever.

Now, let me be clear on this, I’m not talking about all the shows or concerts my girls took part in when they were in orchestras or theatre groups, as on the whole these were pretty darn good and very enjoyable, and they weren’t the only talented ones there.  No, I’m talking about school plays and concerts where everyone had to take part despite that fact that some of the children clearly didn’t want to be there and even more clearly had no talent whatsoever.  I’m talking squeaky recorders, out of tune brass groups, guitar ensembles that couldn’t play in time with each other, violins that, well, you know, kids on violins, and orchestras that didn’t seem to understand the concept of staying in tune, and I’m supposed to sit there and smile and act like it’s the best thing ever, and I did try to, but on the inside I died a little each time.  As the girls got older, the performances got better because the groups they were involved in were more practiced and more dedicated.

Tonight I went to daughter number four’s A ’level drama performance.  Katy wasn’t acting herself, but she had designed and built the stage set and lighting for one of the groups which she has been given an A for.  Nice one Katy.  Anyway, the pieces the two groups were performing were expressionist theatre, or in other words, a bit weird and designed to make you feel uncomfortable and have deep thoughts about the subject matter.  They were cheery little presentations about schizophrenia and prostitutes.  Now, I have to say this is not my idea of an entertaining evening, in fact, when the first group started the thought that ran through my head was “oh my goodness, I’m going to have to sit through about twenty minutes of this shiz”.  This was the schizophrenia piece.  A couple of the girls gave some decent performances in parts, but on the whole it was just too bizarre for my taste.

The prostitutes were much more likeable.  This was Katy’s group.  Whilst this piece also tackled a difficult subject, it was less “out there”.  It made much more sense, and I really enjoyed the portrayal of the different characters.  It was designed to show the girls as birds in cages, on display.  Throughout the performance you got to hear a monologue by each of them telling their story.  This for me was much more powerful than the first group who just seemed to spend most of the time crawling around the floor and repeating the same things over and over again and all at the same time.  All in all, I prefer my theatre with a proper story and a happy ending.

Project 366

I’ve been busy all day with work and college, so haven’t had time to write anything until now.  It’s bedtime, but I can’t go to that happy place until I’ve written my 500 words.  This is not the only project I am taking part in this year.  I’m also doing project 365, although this year it’s project 366 because it’s a leap year.  In case you aren’t aware of what that is, it’s when you take a photograph each day of the year and post it on the social media platform of your choice.  I’m posting mine to Instagram and Facebook.  So far I haven’t missed a day.  I’ve come close a few times, like today when nothing interesting happened and it’s nearly over, so I’m desperately looking around the house for something that could be vaguely worth photographing that might look at least pretty if not particularly interesting.  Funnily enough, just a few seconds after I’d posted today’s meagre offering, one of my friends commented that she loved it.  Just goes to show that you don’t know what is really going to be appealing to people.

Whilst I’m doing this, I’m keenly aware that people could very quickly become bored if I keep taking photos of my dogs and my beloved grandson, so it’s quite a challenge to find new things, which I suppose is part of the point of the project in the first place.  It challenges you to open your eyes and look around.  It challenges you to look at your world with different eyes and appreciate the small things just as much as the big things.  My photos so far have varied between a simple plate of toasted crumpets with peanut butter on them, to an old wooden pier on one of my favourite beaches on a sunny day.

My drive to work produces some lovely morning scenes, but I’m always in too much of a rush to stop and take a picture of them.  The motorway I have to get to is up a hill, and on these cold winter mornings when there has been fog around, I’ve reached the M65 to find bright sunshine and a blue sky and looking back into the valley you can see a beautiful blanket of fog covering the ground for quite a few miles.  Of course it would be completely illegal for me to stop on the hard shoulder just to take a photo of this, and I fear that I may never capture the scene.  While I’m typing this, I’m formulating a plan that might help me get this elusive shot, but it will involve a combination of the perfect foggy morning and me getting up particularly early in order to drive to a good spot with legal parking before the fog clears.  Something tells me this may not happen, as I love my bed and usually wait until the last possible minute to part from it each morning.

At the end of the year, my plan is to get all of them printed in a photobook so that I can easily look back on 2016 and hopefully remember where and why I took each one of them.

Here are a couple of my favourites so far.

This Little Girl

Lottie joined our family on the 9^th of January this year when she was exactly eight weeks old.  I’m not entirely sure why or how this happened.  I’m a cat person.  I always have been and I always will be.  I did have a dog when I was 18 called Ralph Waldo Emerson III who was just a wonderful boy.  I have no idea what different breeds were all mixed up in his genetics, but he was fast, I can tell you that.  Since he died, it’s been cats all the way.  Many, many cats over the years.  Some made it to a good age and some were taken too soon.  After losing two in relatively quick succession on the main road outside out current home, we decided it was just too dangerous to keep cats so close to all the fast moving traffic, and we were a pet free home for a few years.

I've told the story of how Linus came to live with us before, so I won’t repeat it, but now we have Lottie.  We had talked about getting another dog as a companion for Linus, but had always said that because of the extra expense of insurance and vet bills, that we just wouldn't do it.  Then I got bored and started browsing the internet for puppies.  Well, when you start looking at all those cute pictures, you just get sucked into their adorableness and are swept away on a tide of love and longing.  I found some puppies that would be ready to leave home just after Christmas which seemed perfect timing, and we arranged to go and see them.  Once you hold that sweet little bundle and get licked by her puppy tongue you’re branded and there’s nothing to do but embrace the new addition.  Linus accepted her straight away, well he would because he’s the friendliest dog in the whole wide world, and over the weeks they have really bonded.  So much so that they share dog treats, and by that I mean they chew the same “bone” even though it’s only a few inches long.

She’s been a quick learner so far, brighter than Linus I think, which I feel a little guilty about thinking, but sometimes he really can be a dumb dog.  When she was old enough and had had all her injections, we took her out for her first walk.  It was not a great success as it was throwing it down.  She was cold and wet and a little unsure of everything so hardly moved at all.  The second walk was much better for her and she actually looked like she was enjoying it.  Today we were very brave and let her off the lead for the first time.  She was in a safe environment and we were very close by the whole time, but it was rather nerve-

wracking as she’s a nippy little thing.

 

She stayed quite close to us the whole time and happily trotted after Linus.  Not once did she look like she was going to run off and explore on her own, and she happily came back to us when called.  This may have been more because she got a treat when she did as she was told; she is quite a greedy little madam.

It made me happy in my heart to see them out together, exploring the wood and playing in the leaves.

My 500 Words

I've joined a group on Facebook called My 500 Words.  The point of the group is to encourage anyone who is trying to write.  They are supportive, encouraging and all together just a nice bunch of people.  The point of the group, apart from just being there to help each other, is to challenge you to write at least 500 words every day.  Today is my day three, and here is what I wrote.

Day 3

So, here we are, day three.  Now what? I haven’t had any more thoughts about my book today.  I’ve been rather busy doing normal stuff.  I got up quite early for a Saturday morning because I had a plan and a purpose.  Hubby and I had agreed that today we would reorganise the kitchen because it just wasn’t working the way it was.  All was fine for the three of us until Rebekah, Adam and Charlie moved in on a semi-permanent basis.  The spent a few months travelling in Europe last year, but decided that they needed to be nearer to home as they felt a little isolated with Charlie and were starting to get concerned about what would happen if he got sick. As they’d given up their rented accommodation in spring last year, they needed somewhere to stay and our house was their choice.

Things are working fine, and we’ve accommodated enough of their personal belongings to make them feel at home, but we hadn’t really gottten round to making the kitchen more ergonomic. We’d had enough space for all our bits and bobs so it didn’t really matter if there was wasted room in the cupboards, but it was beginning to feel like the task of getting out dishes or pans or plastic storage containers, and then putting them tidily away, was quite onerous. 

Luckily we have a dishwasher to deal with all the extra dirty plates and pans, but emptying it and finding spaces to put things back was such a chore.  You had to move three pans just to put away the one you’d used, or lift up four dishes so that the big one fitted nicely with the all the smaller ones inside it.  Their food was spread out in three different areas, so they had to open several cupboards just get out the basics for the meal they were preparing.  Charlie’s sippy cups and non-slip bowls were never stacked neatly because they had to fit in between the group up’s crockery.  We were supposed to tackle these issues before Christmas, but we got a bit caught up with decorating three bedrooms, and ran out of time before the jolly man in the red and white suit turned up.  New year brought a nasty virus down on me which took a few weeks to recover from, and by that time we were back into the old routine and thoughts of sorting out the kitchen had all but disappeared.

Now, I don’t know about you, but plastic tubs cause stress in our house.  They are all thrown into a large drawer and you can hardly ever seem to find just the right tub needed, and if you do find the right tub, you can’t find the corresponding lid.  This was the catalyst for deciding to tackle the kitchen.  I was looking for a lid to fit onto a small round tub so that I could take a couple of brownies to work to go along with my lunch on Friday, but the lid eluded me. Hubby was helping me look and yet again expressed his exasperation at the state of the jumble of tubs and lids and how if it was up to him he’d throw them all out and start again.  His plan would be to number all containers and lids so that you could keep track of them.  Container 1 would go with lid 1 and so on. Then he suggested that we make that our Saturday goal.  Reorganise the kitchen to make it more user friendly, and do something about the plastic situation, and for once we have actually stuck to our plan and done it.  Kitchen has been overhauled and new containers have been purchased. Now if I could just have a new kitchen to go along with it all, that would be just grand.