Skip to main content


Last week of term so lots of presentations to teachers and goodbyes to those not coming back in September. Got school reports today, no surprises except for the Small(er) One being heartbroken as her class is being split up and she will be parted from her best friend (Quote: "My heart is broken, she is my one true love, sob" - too many Disney movies perchance??)... am filing this one away to deal with later when I have built up adequate emotional reserves.

Firstborn's birthday tomorrow. She insisted on me making 30 fairy cakes all with piped faces and smartie eyes to take in to school for her class; they're not going to win any prizes but it made the girls laugh so I guess I did good. Sweaty stuff though, baking when it's 40C outside and my air conditioning is less than useless.

Book club tonight at mine, thank God I don't have to leave the house. Thought I'd make a cake since I'd already made bloody fairy cakes but obviously my luck ran out with the first batch. Dropped the first cake I made - gah! cue outrageous fit of swearing (so bad the Small(er) One ran out of the room with her hands over her ears, I blame the hormones) - second cake not very good but bugger it, sending Alpha out to buy ice-cream instead.

Anything else? Oh yes, how could I forget? Prepare to give birth in one week and one measly day. Phew. Can't wait to chill out in a nice, quiet hospital room.


Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…


Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …