Being Me

There are so few laughs in this that you'll wonder whether you're on the right blog.  But I was thinking today about a close relative who died a few years ago and remembering the last time I saw her.  I wrote this when I got back from seeing her in hospital.  I wasn't in the mood for triviality.  (It does happen.  Sometimes.) *** I came to visit you in the cancer ward.  How I thought my short visit would make up for thirty years of irregular, half-hearted contact, I don’t know.  I suppose it was all about guilt.  So many things are.               You were sitting in a high-backed chair by the bed, fragile hands folded in your lap like still butterflies.  As soon as I saw you, I knew your eyes were wrong.  They were bulging out and not quite straight on, as though something were behind them, pushing and competing for room.  You had a swelling in front of y...

It's only 10.30 in the morning and already I have several questions to ask of the world, raised while going through the processes of getting up, having breakfast, reading a Linguistics magazine and using my computer. Question 1. No one is watching, so why is it still a humiliation to find yourself standing under the shower for three hours holding a bottle upside down so that the last dribble of shower gel becomes available? Question 2. How can (a) a satsuma and a pear and (b) two slices of thick white toast buttered and then spread lavishly with Nutella BOTH be deemed an acceptable breakfast?  I've just had option (a) and had to have a mug of hot chocolate to make up for the disillusionment. Question 3. I've been reading a magazine about American phrases.  Why do the Americans call a 'starter' an 'appetiser' when we ALL know what happens after you've eaten that pizza bread and forty-five queen olives and your main course turns up ...? Qu...

I am so in love with bread and butter pudding that I would willingly have an affair with it if a) such a thing were possible and b) I were able to do so without subjecting my husband to the ignominious accusation of being cuckolded by a dessert. Having accepted that adultery with a pudding is probably not the way ahead, here instead is a poem about the pudding I made tonight.  Step aside, Wordsworth. Tonight I made a bread and butter pudding. It looked just like the one that's in this pic.  I made it on a whim all of a sudden. You've never seen a pudding made so quick (Forgive the adjective instead of adverb But rhyming at this time of night is tough.) We'd had our main meal and I fancied pudding And just a toffee yogurt's not enough. I dashed into the kitchen and in minutes I'd buttered bread and sprinkled in sultanas. I'd whipped up eggs and milk and poured them over The bread, and then I put on my pyjamas. (Forgive the ...

Okay.  It's been too long since I mauled some innocent little nursery rhymes to death.... Humpty Dumpty fell off a wall But he was the size of Nepal. All the king's horses and all the king's men Said, 'We'll help him this time, but NEVER again.' Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch a pail of water But Jill went 'Ohhhhhhhh!' and tore off her clothes And (surprise!) gave birth to their daughter. 'Mary, Mary, quite contrary - How does your garden grow?' asked someone who was passing who really wanted to know. But Mary Mary quite contrary, The question annoyed her so She battered him with her spade. Now he's the compost that helps it grow. Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the candlestick. Jack be singed in a delicate place. Jack be red all over his face. Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep and doesn't know where to find 'em. Check in the butcher's window, Bo. Your lambsies are just behind...

That's two lists that have amused me this week and I am going to inflict them on you. I need someone in the novel I'm avoiding writing writing to be able to get into someone's house through the front door, then commit a murder, and get out again without any damage being done to the lock.  No, don't ask me why.  I'm not even sure of the facts myself yet.  And I'm wishing I'd decided to write a limerick instead.  I can do those.  Here's one. There once was a writer called Fran Who said to herself, 'Yes, I can! I can write me a novel - make publishers grovel - And she started to draw up a plan. You see?  That took me one minute flat.  This damn novel is going to take me until 2046. Anyway, I googled, 'Can you pick a lock without damaging it?' I only had to type 'Can you pick a lock without ....' and it knew the rest.  It seems like a popular search, alarmingly (ha ha - unintentional pun!) and took me to what I'm sure ...

We got sent home early today from school because of snow.  I passed one boy in the corridor who's in my English class and he said to me, 'Hey, I suppose that means we don't get to have our English lesson.' Can you tell from the way I've written it what tone he said this in?  Just in case you can't guess, here's a picture of the kind of facial expression we're talking about here. Ouch! I said to him, 'Er, let's just run through that again, shall we?' and made him repeat it after me, word by word, in a sombre, mournful tone, wearing this kind of facial expression instead. Luckily, he played along.  He was probably thinking, 'I know she's crazy already.  I won't risk upsetting her.'  I nearly gave him three merits and a chocolate bar for doing so, but I think that would have laid bare my deep need for approval and affirmation just a little too clearly.  One so hates to look needy. The longer I'm ...

I loved this conversation I had with my son this morning on the phone.  His son Elijah is now 6 months old and they live in Surrey.  That's Elijah above, looking as though butter wouldn't melt .... Me: Hiya.  Where are you? Son: Just getting out of the car and going back into the house. Me: Oh, where have you been? Son:  For a long drive. Me: Oh, that's nice.  What a lovely, spontaneous thing to do on a Saturday. Son:  It wasn't the plan.  But we went to the shops, and Elijah fell asleep in the car on the way back.  And when Elijah falls asleep in the car, you keep driving.  We carried on for an hour. I can't think of a better story to illustrate what it's like with tiny children.  Elijah hasn't exactly won any awards so far for Learning How to Nap in the Daytime. I remember it well - all the different ways of getting them to sleep/keeping them asleep, including going out for walks at three in the morning, envying e...