New Year, New Blog Name

There was a meaning behind my previous blog name of Penway Product, but I never really liked it.  It felt too industrial to me.  It was an amalgamation of my mother's maiden name and my father's name, and was indicating that I was a product of those two people.  Nice idea, but I just didn't like it and although I wanted to change it I couldn't come up with anything better to replace it with.

A few weeks ago I was having a conversation with Robert, about something I can't remember now, but whatever we were talking about made my brain dredge up the name my dad used to call me when I was little, which was Flossy Fannakapan.  I don't know if this was a popular pet name to call little girls in the 1960s, but I've never come across anyone else being called this by their parents.  I don't think I liked it much at the time, as I recall my dad using it when I had been perhaps a little cheeky or mischievous, so I associated it with getting into trouble.  Not enough to be properly told off, but just enough to know I was pushing the limits.  Anyway, now I think it sounds adorable, so I have chosen it as my blog name.  You know, the blog I keep up to date all the time.

I did a little research to see if I could find out where this name came from, and it appears to have been used in an old Gracie Fields song about a young man called Fred Fannakapan.  On the same site I discovered this bit of information, I read in the comments of one person being called Fanny Ann Fannakapan by her father when she was little. and another lady said her mother used to tell her to stop being such a Fanny Fannakapan when she was being fussy.  This second lady's great uncle, William Haines, was a lyricist for Gracie Fields, which was another interesting titbit.

Further googling reveals that it was actually in popular usage in the north west as a term of endearment, so not that mysterious or original, but I still prefer it to my previous blog name, and that's what I'm going with.

Charlie's Sleepover

Charlie is having a sleepover at marmar's house this weekend.  Everyone else is home too, so there were no spare beds which meant that Charlie had to sleep in his travel cot in our room.  He wasn't impressed with this arrangement until I told him that when it was morning we'd be right there with him and he could climb into our bed.  This seemed acceptable and he was happier to lie down and go to sleep.

We crept quietly into our room several hours later, trying really hard not to make any noise and wake him up and using the light from our phone screens to see what we were doing.  No problem, job done.

Robert was having one of his restless nights and ended up going downstairs to sleep on the sofa bed, leaving me and Charlie on our own.

I was drifting off to sleep when I heard a noise from Charlie's cot. He seemed to be mumbling something in his sleep.  I couldn't hear what he was saying, but he went quiet, so I tried to relax again.  I must have fallen asleep for a while, but not for long, when I heard Charlie again.  He was saying "stop, stop".  I wondered what he was dreaming about and hoped it wasn't a bad dream.  Anyway, back to sleep again.

"Stop, stop, stop doing that"

I didn't say anything because I didn't want to wake him up, but was beginning to think I wouldn't be getting much sleep if he was going to be having dreams like this all night.

Back to sleep again, then, "Stop it marmar".  Was he dreaming about me?  "Shhh Charlie, go back to sleep"

I was trying hard to ignore this but it carried on.  Charlie currently has a way of speaking where he makes a one syllable word into a two syllable word by emphasising the last letter, so he was now saying "stop, stop, stooooop", with the p being the second syllable all on its own, over and over.

By now I was getting concerned, but I was also tired, so was still trying to sleep.  Couldn't ignore it any longer when he started saying "you're going to wake everybody up, you're going to wake everybody up".  He didn't sound like he was talking in his sleep now, so I asked him what the matter was.

"You're going to wake everyone up marmar"

"How am I going to wake everyone up?"

"With your really loud snoring!"

Wow, didn't see that one coming.  Poor child must have been trying to get me to shut up for quite a while because he was sounding rather fed up by now.  I was stopping him from getting to sleep, not the other way around.

"Don't worry Charlie, I won't wake everyone up.  Go back to sleep"

"Okay"

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.

Twelve Angry Men

When I go to the theatre, I usually go to see a show.  All singing, all dancing, all entertaining.  I rarely opt for a straight play, and even if there was no singing, I'd normally expect plenty of laughs.  That's not how anyone would describe the production of Twelve Angry Men that I have just seen at the Grand Theatre in Leeds.  So why did I choose to go and see this?

When I was a  young teenager in the 70s, the 1957 black and white film of Twelve Angry Men was on one Saturday afternoon.  I didn't remember much about the film in terms of exactly how the story unfolded, but what has always been an overriding memory was just how gripped I was by the performances of the actors, and how it held my attention, despite being of the new generation that expected everything to be in colour and be fast and furious.  Even back then it was evident that attention spans were getting shorter and popular entertainment was keeping up with this trend.  Teenagers did not care about out of date actors in black and white films, yet I have never forgotten how I felt when I watched that film, despite remembering almost nothing else about it.

When Kim was home at Christmas she mentioned that there was a touring production of the stage play and that it was going to be in Manchester.  She suggested to her granddad that she could take him to see it, as one of her client's was in it.  I mentioned that I would like to see it, so we said we would go.  As it turned out, that didn't happen and I'd pretty much forgotten about it, until Kim mentioned that she'd been to see it with Bekah, but that it had been the last night.  Thinking that I'd missed my chance I was a little disappointed, but as I was looking for things to do during my week off work this week, I found that the tour had moved to Leeds, so we quickly booked tickets.

I was a little worried that my memory of how that film had made me feel, was not accurate, or that the live actors would not produce the quality of performances that would draw me in, like Henry Fonda did in the original.  I didn't need to be worried.  It was just brilliant.  I loved every minute of it. The way it was staged, each individual characterisation, the script, which did not feel at all dated.  The time passed too quickly, I could have stayed in their world much longer.  I am so glad that I have the opportunity to go to the theatre and that my family share and enjoy this with me.

Moth Watch Update

As you may know, we decorated the moth for Christmas.  Well, today we took the decorations down, and as we removed the mini wreath, the moth fell to the floor.  Robert called me to show me what had happened.  He thought it was dead.  It was flat out on the floor with its wings open.  This was the first time we had seen the wings, and it actually looks more like a butterfly than a moth now.  Anyone?

I was quite concerned, and thought it might be a good idea if I gave it some sugar water.  Up until now, it had always been high up.  This was the first time since June that it had been in a place where we could feed it.  We mixed up some sugar water, and I spooned some of it into a puddle in front of the moth/butterfly, then left it alone while we carried on putting away the decorations.

Next time we went to check on it, it had moved along the tiles.  I was really glad that it was still alive, and gave it some more sugar water.

It showed even more signs of life by flying up to the window above the front door.  We have never seen it move (apart from when it fell down), we have just seen that it has moved from one place to another.

When we came back from shopping, it was back down on the floor, where it still is.  I have a theory that after getting sugar water when it was on the ground, it realised it might be on to a good thing, so came down for some more, which I have given it.  I'm hoping it makes it through to spring, when I think I'll try and get it outside.

Moth

We have a moth in our house.  This moth has been in our house since about June or July.  It was perched in the hallway, near the ceiling by the dining room door.  It wasn't moving.  We decided it was dead, and each of us kept meaning to remove it from its perch, but none of us got round to it,

About six to eight weeks ago, I was walking towards the front door when I noticed that the moth had moved.  It was no longer by the dining room door, it was above the window of the vestibule door.  I was amazed. I had been sure this moth was dead because it hadn't moved an inch in months, and now there it was, not moving, but in a different place.

Last week, we had the downstairs carpets cleaned.  This seemed to unnerve the moth, which by this time we were calling our pet moth.  He moved from above the window to the side of the window.  We think it might have been because of the steam rising from the machine the men were using.  I thought it might finally decide to leave us.

A few days ago it had gone from the side of the window, and I couldn't see it anywhere.  Had it finally left us?  No, it had moved to the ceiling near the front door.  I have no idea if this is normal moth behaviour, but we're quite enjoying moth watch in our house.

Linus

As some of you may be aware by now, we have a dog.  We have, until a couple of years ago, always had cats, but due to living on a main road, and this being an unsafe place for them to wander freely, we decided that we would not have any more cats until we lived somewhere quieter.  It has taken use quite along time to make the decision to have a dog, because of the commitment required, but I think we're grown up enough now.

When we got Linus, we hadn't actually made the decision to get a dog at that point.  It was still an idea in the development stage, but then I had a conversation with a lady at work.  We talked about pets a lot, as we were both animal lovers.  She recently had to say goodbye to her dog of twelve years, due to illness, so I think puppies were on her mind.  She was telling me about a friend of hers who had puppies ready to go to good homes.  I saw a couple of photos of them, and they were just adorable.  A few texts and phone calls with Robert later, and I persuaded him to go and have a look at these puppies to see about getting one.  When he spoke to the lady on the phone, she told him that there were two puppies left, but that people were already coming that evening to look at them.  She said that if they didn't take them, then she would call him.  At this point we knew we were no longer in the running as no one could say no to those gorgeous little ones, so we started searching on line for other puppies.

We found some absolutely adorable ones on a web site called preloved.co.uk, and couldn't believe our luck when they were in Burnley, as this website covered the whole country.  We contacted the owners straight away, and this is where the story gets a little odd.  The man Robert spoke to sounded a bit vague, and said his wife was handling everything to do with the puppies and she would ring us back.  This didn't fill me with confidence, but we waited for a phone call.  I was surprised when the phone rang not too long after.

Robert asked if we could come and see the puppies that evening, as Katy was out, and we wanted to keep it quiet until we had definitely decided.  She said this was ok, but when we asked her for her address she couldn't give it to us.  Again, not filling me with confidence.  Robert then spoke to her husband who said that where he lived was a bit tricky to get to, so we made an arrangement to meet him in the car park of a Spar shop near his home, and then we were to follow him in his silver range rover, to where he lived.  Now, you hear stories about people meeting strangers from off the internet, but here we were, sitting in a car park, waiting for this completely unknown man to turn up, and we were just going to follow him.

We'd been there for about ten minutes when the range rover appeared and he indicated for us to follow.  We turned off the main road, onto a quiet street with a cul de sac at the end.  At this point, the man stopped and got out of his car. We parked and got out too, and he said that his house was down a steep dirt track, and it would be better if we got in his car to drive down to the house.  This was sounding dodgier and dodgier to me, but we dutifully got into his car.  He drove part way down the track and stopped to open a large swing gate.  As he got out, and Robert and I were alone in the car, I showed Robert something I'd found on the back seat next to me.  It was an empty bullet cartridge.  So now my mind is racing with all the possible ways that this could play out. But still, here we were, sitting in this total stranger's car, trusting him to take us to see his puppies.

Obviously nothing sinister did happen, as I'm here to tell the tale, and I have Linus.  It turned out that they were a couple who were building their own home on a plot of land down by a river, which is why they couldn't give us an address.  They had horses, and geese and dogs and chickens as well I think.  Very much into the country life as much as they could be so close to town, which is where the bullets came from, as the man and his teenage son would go hunting.  They were lovely, and we could easily have spent all night there just chatting away about everything under the sun.

Two days later we went back to pick up Linus, and he is an absolute fluffy bundle of joy.  So friendly with everyone and all other dogs he meets.  When we're out walking, sometimes we have to stop quite frequently as people just want to say hello and stroke him.  He's learning to sit and stay (not very good at staying yet), and he can shake hands, twirl and lie down.  He likes snuggling blankets, playing with footballs and chewing everything he's allowed to get his teeth into, and some things he's not allowed to.  I look forward to every weekend even more because I can't wait to take him out and let him explore new places.

Graduation Day

I couldn't be more proud of daughter number three a.k.a. Rebekah.  She has achieved a lot in her time at university.  She's found her love of literature and writing.  She got herself a decent partner to share her life with.  She gave me the most adorable grandson, and to top it all off she got herself a first class degree in English with Drama.

I wish I could take credit for instilling the virtues of hard work and never giving up into her, but I think this might be down to Adam and Charlie, and the way they helped her to focus and knuckle down when she needed to.

Graduation day was hot.  Charlie, bless his little cotton socks, was very well behaved.  He didn't come into the graduation ceremony itself.  He stayed outside with wonderful auntie Katy.  We had an official family photograph taken on the day, but I haven't seen it yet. Really looking forward to
that being ready.

We had good seats, near all the graduates.  The graduation was filmed, and before it began the cameras were scanning the audience, focussing in on individuals, who mostly got into the spirit of things and played up when their faces appeared on the big screens at the front of the hall.  Rebekah looked gorgeous, and had the biggest grin on her face as she walked across the stage to shake hands with the Vice Chancellor.

Walking back to her seat

I'm so proud of this girl and what she's achieved, and she's not stopping there.  Next on the agenda is an M.A., and once that's done, she'll be looking at a PhD.  What a girl.

Tradition

The new family

Weekend at Grandma's

As Bekah is in her third year at university, and as it is not too far off the end of the Academic year, I suggested that perhaps we could have Charlie for a weekend so that she could get some work done.  The weekend I suggested turned out to be the same weekend as their anniversary, so it was very convenient timing.  

This meant we got to have Charlie from Friday until Monday, with a little visit from his mummy and daddy on the Saturday night, as three nights away from him was more than Bekah could handle.  Now I have to admit that I was excited and nervous in equal parts.  As gorgeous and amazing as he is, I haven't looked after a baby for many years and was worried that I had lost my knack.

It was also good timing as I had just been paid and found myself buying baby equipment that could stay at grandma's house so that Bekah didn't have to bring everything but the kitchen sink every time they visit, although now I have to find somewhere to keep it all.

So Charlie arrived just after tea on Friday.  Robert had to go out to choir practice which meant he was all mine.  Well, mine and Katy's, but mostly mine.  He whinged a bit and then fell asleep until his late night feed.  He also got to meet his great aunt Sarah and is cousin Darcey.  I still can't remember how the second cousin/cousin once removed thing works (sorry Alex), so we'll just say that Darcey is is cousin.

Now here was the tricky bit.  Where to sleep him and who was going to be on night feed duty?  "We" decided that the best thing would be for him to sleep in his pram downstairs with Robert as I had to get up early for an appointment.  I trotted off to bed and left Grandbob to it.

My alarm went off at 7:15 and a few minutes later Grandbob came upstairs and fell into bed while announcing that he hadn't slept all night.  Now, I hadn't heard a thing so was a bit concerned at the terrible night Robert had had with Charlie.  It turns out that Charlie slept just fine, but Robert had forgotten what it was like to sleep next to a new baby, and be constantly listening to them breathe, and then checking that they are still actually breathing when they go really quiet.

Auntie Katy got to do her auntie duty while Robert slept and I went to my appointment.  I came back having stopped off to buy yet more stuff for Charlie, including a bath and a chair.  So after a bath and a bottle, and it being a lovely day, we decided to walk into town as Robert was still fast asleep.

I like my new chair

Charlie was just wonderful the whole time we were out.  Katy on the other hand has decided she needs some sort of sign or badge or writing on her hoodie proclaiming that she is not the mummy, when she's out with Charlie.  Several people assumed this to be the case, and one lady was asking her what she had and what she called him.

In pensive mood.  Either that, or planning on how to take over the world.

He came to church with us on Sunday and slept through the whole thing, which let's face it is probably the best thing to do at church.  One young married man wasn't happy with us however, as seeing Charlie made his wife a bit broody again.

So what have I learnt from this weekend?  I have learnt that Charlie is a very good baby whose routine is pretty much eat, play and smile and be gorgeous, then sleep after a little bit of grumpiness, then start the cycle all over again.  I have learnt that I haven't lost my knack, and that Robert is still better at going without sleep than I am.  Most of all I have learnt that being a grandma is a whole different ball game to being a mummy as you are so much more chilled out about the whole thing, and can put everything on hold while you just enjoy being with your grandchild.  It doesn't matter for a few days if the housework isn't done or if full family meals aren't cooked. Nothing is as important, for whatever time you have, as being with your grandchild.

The Next Chapter

I've thought about starting this blog post several times, but I'm not sure I know where to begin.  This last week has been one of the most amazing experiences of my life and it's hard to know how to put my thoughts and feelings into words.

last Monday on my way to work I was telling myself not to get too excited as there was still a week to go before Bekah's due date.  I started thinking about the things I had to do that day, and one of them was to make sure my boss was ok with me taking off if I got the call from Bekah while I was at work.

I had been doing a few jobs and got back to my desk; out of habit I checked my phone.  There were two missed calls from Bekah.  This was not normal behaviour so I rang her back straight away.  As soon as she spoke I could hear the pain in her voice and I knew this was it.  I left work ten minutes later; went home to pack a bag and headed down to Crewe.  I think it took me about an hour to stop shaking.

When I got there, the house was quiet and relaxed considering the circumstances.  Bekah was coping well and Adam was being very supportive.  They had planned a home birth with a pool, which was all set up and ready in the dining room.  The midwife returned around 5pm and decided that Bekah was far enough along to be monitored constantly from there on.

Things were progressing as normal, albeit slowly.  I wasn't really doing much as Adam was making sure Bekah had everything she needed, but she was glad I was there.  Around 4am in the morning it was becoming clear that Bekah needed to make a decision as to whether she should go into hospital and give up on the home birth as it seemed baby was far too comfortable and happy and wasn't keen to be coming out any time soon, so a little extra help might be needed.  She didn't know what to do as this meant turning the experience into everything she didn't want.  She looked at me and asked "what should I do?".  Anyone who is a mother will know that the responses you give at crucial moments like this are pretty darn important.  I just told her that she needed to do what was right for the baby and that if she stayed at home, she didn't have the options she would have in hospital.

We got to the hospital around 5am, and it was a bit of a shock to the system.  At home, it had been quiet (apart from the occasional scream) with subdued lighting and comfy armchairs.  The hospital was all bright lights and noise and without a comfy chair in sight.  I felt bad that I had advised Bekah to go there, even though I knew it was where she needed to be.

They tried every trick in the book to move things along for her but it was still slow going.  They kept saying that baby was happy and they would give it another hour.  Every time it was "give it another hour".  Bekah was getting exhausted but was coping brilliantly.  They were talking about epidurals and caesarians, but thanks to there being two other ladies that needed more urgent attention, and only one anaesthetist, this kept getting delayed.

Eventually just after 11am they told her that she was finally ready.  We all just burst into tears, including Adam, although I'm not sure he'd admit it.  I haven't asked Bekah exactly why she was crying but my tears were a mixture.  On the one hand this meant she was going to have a natural birth, but on the other hand this meant waiting another hour (they call it passive second stage) before she could start actively pushing.  I was glad things were ok, but concerned at how much longer Bekah could go on and how tired she was.  I wanted it all to end for her as soon as possible, but yet again we were being told another hour.  We got told so many times that baby was happy that it nearly became his middle name.

My beautiful little girl had to push for two and a half hours.  She was amazing.  So exhausted but still giving all she had for her baby.  At the start of this we weren't sure if I would still be there right at the end, or whether it would just be Bekah and Adam, but I got to see my grandson be born.  Ok, maybe not 'see'. I was more on the 'grab my hand and grip as hard as you can' end of things, but even so, I was there.  And, as with pretty much every mother I know about, the first thing Bekah said to him was "hello" as she held him close.

My first cuddle came when Bekah was having a shower.  I think this is the very first picture of him.

Bekah had to stay in hospital that night to be monitored, so eventually Adam and I left to go and get some sleep.  Something that Bekah desperately needed but was unlikely to get.

I spent the next day trying to make things normal for them at the house while waiting for them to get back from the hospital.  In the evening there were lots of visitors and cuddles all round.  Baby was being so good, as we were all making suggestions about what he should be called.

Once everyone was gone I said I would stay downstairs with still unnamed baby, while Bekah and Adam slept.  He wasn't keen on settling in his moses basket, so we just cuddled all night.  This was when he really became my grandson.  Babies smell so good don't they?  He was all mine for those hours.  I didn't have to share him with anyone.  I could watch him and rock him and kiss him as much as I wanted. Something I shall never forget, and I hope the feelings I experienced don't dim with time.

He finally got named on day three.  He is Charles Alfred Bentley, or Charlie, but also currently known as monkey boy Charlie or Charlie monkey and was introduced to the world with this photo..

I enjoyed my few days with the new family.  I got to know Adam much better, and was treated a bit like a VIP when I stayed at the Holiday Inn where Bekah worked.

He is one and a half hours drive away from me, and I'm finding it hard to accept that there is a little baby in my life that I'm not there to look after twenty four hours a day.  I'm not the mummy this time.  This is the next chapter.