Tuesday, 29 July 2008

It's 12.53 am. Radio 4 burbles in the background. Darling son fast asleep, all hot and sweaty, gripping onto Ted, his lifejacket in the stormy sea that is sleep...Neither me not Teenage daughter can settle to sleep ... She pondering, I imagine, the reasons for her grounding....(more likely watching BB103)...Me frantically wodnering where it all went wrong..

She's been grounded for 'misuse of IT' (her fathers words). Getting a boy to strip on webcam via MSN (my words). Reader, I was speachless when I stumbled upon this piece of information. She is 14. He not much older. How has it come to this? She goes to the best school in the town (catholic..)..and, well, is 14 BLOODY YEARS OF AGE!! I am horrified at her blase attitude to this 'incident'. She should be MORTIFIED, as I would have been...but as I was a 70's teenager this never would've happened. Telex was about as hight tec as it got...Is it me or has the world gone mad? Sex is EVERYWHERE. There is very little that they know at 14 - I truly didn't know what the initials BJ stood for, let alone imagined doing 'that' eurrrgh!? Tits and arses abound. Even M &S have gone raunchy. I never thought I'd say this, but bring back some kind of decorum please! Put them away love, we really don't want them in our face thanks very much.

Tuesday, 22 July 2008

The summer fete has come and gone, and with it the last of my goodwill towards all men...and the mummy mafia. NEVER AGAIN. How did it come to this? Sorting bric a brac (a mountain of china shite) at 8pm on a Saturday night in a school hall ? Grappling with several gazebos at 9am on Sunday morning, all of which had some tiny, but essential, bit missing? Almost coming to blows over a chocolate fountain? Finding out that people actually WON THE COCONUT on the coconut shy. Sending a heavily pregnant friend to the local indian emporium to buy 30 coconuts. Yes, 30 COCONUTS. Sending a small child into a hedge to look for the balls from the coconut shy as we (!) had forgotten to put up the big huge unmissible MDF sheet against said hedge to avoid such a catastrophie. Pissing off 30 people who paid a quid for a tombola ticket in the hope of winning the booze and coming away with a coconut....I could go on, but I won't as I am boring myself, never mind you dear reader.....

My quest for fun,however briefly interruped by the sodding fete, goes on...

Saturday, 12 July 2008

Fun. 'Something that provides mirth or amusement'. ... Fun I have had this week - hmm, not very much. Can you class your ex hub forgetting present for his new girlie (trendy top - had a look in the bag - Muji as it happens..) as fun? Well I had 2 minutes pleasure then 15 minutes fuming at how much he spent on the top, then remembered that it didn't matter and that girlfriend is actually quite nice and felt happy again...
Spent all day yesterday on the housing estate where I work ...hosting the 'Food from around the world' stall at the annual 'fun' day. Fun -it's EVERYWHERE if you choose to look. The residents of this particulr estate get hours of fun from drinking Lambrini, smoking Superkings and generally ignoring their many offspring. All of whom come to school stinking of fags and with a cheese string and a couple of jaffa cakes in their lunchboxes...I kid you not. Spend a chilly (July!) 5 hours watching well meaning staff and local church members tryng to engage local, disinterested people - the kids were great - got stuck in and had a great time with the bouncy boxing and sumo wrestling...while their parents drank the stuff they'd won on the tombola and spent some of their giro money on the horrible burgers....it is like Shameless without the Manc accents or the happy endings. Grinding poverty and boredom relived by a bottle of booze for the price of a raffle ticket. Do I sound judgemental? Yes I bloody do - ask any professional who has spent time amongst the class serviced by the services - police, social, welfare and courts...and they will tell the same story. Poor people having too many kids on too few resources. Free housing, free milk, free anything begats freeloaders. Harsh but true. 'Too late for the parents, but maybe we can save the kids'...this is the basis of the govts child poverty strategy...worthy, but ultimately pointless. It's too late for these kids even before they are concieved.

Thursday, 10 July 2008

Ex hub has kids every Wednesdy night at mine. Ex hub is a good father. Ex hub likes routine and an orderly house. On his watch, both kids are fed, washed and in bed by 9pm....which is when he leaves and I get home. He gives me his report on the kids, as if we were nurses going on and off shift...'ate tea at 5, bath at 6 and bowels opened 6.30 etc..' He goes, door clicks shut...and we all wait .... Then both kids spring out of bed, lights, TV, computer go on and I rush to the bathroom to put my face on and off I go to the pub with lovely boyfriend. Ex hub knows nothing of this and goes home a happy contented man, knowing he has done his fatherly duty. Who am I to shatter his self image..!He has never wondered why I make sure he has his tube pass, umbrella etc - He thinks I care...I'm just worried that he'll pop back and find the house hopping and me gone to pub...thus proving what a bad mother I really am and how right he was to divorce me! The quest for fun goes on...unimpeded by ex hub...!!

Tuesday, 8 July 2008

So, this PTA thing grinds on. Met with the head and the caretaker today to put, what they thought, were the final touches to the arrangements. In reality, we have one volunteer for the 'smash a plate stand' and two mad facepainters. Hmmmm. Have just drafted yet another 'Greetings from your PTA!!!!" letter to go home by pupil post tomorrow. ( the number of exclaimation marks per letter indicate my level of hysteria) I may as well just chuck 300 pieces of A paper straight into the recycling unread, as that's where they're going anyway. Unread.
Anyhoo, to other matters. My quest for fun goes on, unabashed. I spent a very pleasent aftenoon with two coppers scouting the ward for potential youth venues. Well, what an interesting afternoon! Never let it be said that young people lack things to do. Quite the opposite...if you count having sex in fields, drinking VAST quatitities of blue WKD, smoking, graffiting and riding mini mortobikes.
The police are trying to do their best against pretty impossible odds....PARENTS. There is no such thing as a bad child, just crap parents. Glib it may be, but oh so true. Signing off now...have 2 hour driving lesson, open day at son's school, 8 hours at work and a junior boxing club to run tomorrow. And it's only Wednesday....zzzzzzzzzzzz

Monday, 7 July 2008

In addition to working full time, learning to drive, mothering 2 children and running admin side of my lovely boyfriend's small business...I am the chair of the PTA. A major impediment to my plans to have more fun! How the hell I ever got involved in the PTA I will never know. Another of my 'low beam' moments....thwack, see stars and ooops....I've volunteered for yet another thankless task...! I am currently having sleepless nights about the upcoming summer (!) fete. It being a church school, the fete is the jewell in the crown of the school year - and it's biggest moneyspinner. I cannot express how much I hate the rest of the committee! Two women in particular bring me out in spots....how I didn't smack one when she complained that there were "too many words" in the mufti day letter...grrr! Another one, taller, fatter, stupider, complained when her chubby child didn't get a second creme egg even though she had submitted 2 entries for the easter egg colouring competition...God spare me!
I feel completely TRAPPED!! I'm now spending more time doing the bloody PTA work than my own job...and for what?! A set of sponge goal post guards (!). I'D HAVE BOUGHT THEM MYSELF IF I'D KNOWN THE AGONY THAT IS THE PTA!
And I won't start on the caretaker...he hates the committee more than I do...although the 6 tins of stella we gave him at Xmas helped smooth relations a bit.....
A big part of the 'injecting more fun into my life' plan is passing my driving test. I am embarassed to admit that I cannot drive...well, I CAN drive, but not legally. I have spent thousands of pounds, never mind thousands of hours driving round and round in duel control cars with strangers. Some of whom were very strange indeed ...my first instructor had what my dad would call a 'gunner eye'..very off putting when looking straight at me AND the wing mirror at the same time... weird...! After her (lessons abandoned when I was unable to fit behind the wheel being about 15 months pregnant at the time..), came Stuart. He was small, smelly and had the most incredible teeth... they looked as if they were made of wood. Parallel parking in a mini metro was challenging enough without being up close and personal with Les Pattersons younger brother...eurrghh..
Next came a small redheadded man, who was very angry all the time...with me, his wife, the car, the road...everything and anything really that came into his orbit. Two lessons and I was off...hard to drive and fear for your life at the same time, and not feel agrived at paying for the pleasure into the bargain! Then came Ian, a pop eyed balding bloke who guzzled red bull through out each lesson. Scary. Up next was an indian lady who filled the car with students, not wanting to waste time actually dropping any of us home between lessons. I considered taking sandwiches...and it was a micra...
My current instructor is great...a big, bluff Dub who punctuates lessons with shouts of 'Holy Jaysus, what the f*%£k was that!!" and has made it his lifes work (no pressure!)to get me through the test. I am about to book my first for over 5 years in early September...I'll keep you posted...!
ok, here i am, at home sitting in what i can only describe as the back room of a chineese laundry, with pets. i am technically working from home, but have been sidetracked by a) the mounds of clean clothes for ironing; b) the slightly smaller mounds of dirty washing from the kids weekend with dad and piles of work/pta/bank/utility paperwork....

How did I get here? over 40, 2 kids, full time job, one ex husband, one boyfriend, 2 guinea pigs and a three legged cat. Life wasn't supposed to be like this. all this introspection has been prompted by some pics that an old boyfriend sent to me via facebook (I know! Me, facebook! thats a whole other posting..) anyhoo, there I was, 23 or thereabouts, looking like, well, a bit of a mess hair wise as this was 1988 and before st john of frieda came along...but I looked, well, untroubled, optimistic, and as if i was on the cusp of something great... of course at the time I thought i was hideous...

All that energy, wasted on a serious of rubbish jobs, men and frittered away in pints and large measures....never mind the thousands of fags smoked..

hmm, gloomy?! maybe just a bit...! Come and join me while i use this blog to keep me focussed and on track (years of managment have sullied my vocab) in my quest to find that 'old' me and get some fun back into my life....here goes!