mothers on the verge

It's a strange thing, the secret passion grown women have for geeks. Do geeks bring out our maternal sides? Or is it that as we get older we start to realise that the qualities we valued so highly in men during our teens (muscles, stubble, sporting prowess, ability to drink multiple kegs of ale without passing out, own car) aren't that important after all? After all, hard abs + attitude doesn't necessarily = true luv 4 ever, does it? It takes so much more. The thing about nerdy chaps is that they learn humility at an early age; years of having sandcastles kicked over and their heads flushed down the school bogs by larger, meaner boys tends to have that effect. Humility, when applied to relationships, goes a long, long way. Geeks also have a lot to prove, having repeatedly lost the popularity contest at school and suffered through years of sexual frustration as a result; this makes them much more likely to succeed professionally as adults. And women, when they s...

Alpha and I went on a 'date' tonight. (Yes, with each other... we're not that modern, nor do we live in the 'burbs). It's a rare thing, the two of us being let out on our own. Usually we reserve precious babysitting time for when we have to go out with other adults, mainly to avoid being considered antisocial. Truth be told, we're mostly happy sitting on the sofa together, scratching our arses, ploughing through a bottle of Sainsbury's own brand Beaujolais ( yesh , credit-friendly alcohol works just as well as the fancy stuff) and fighting over the remote control. Gosh, doesn't that paint a pretty picture? Anyway, so tonight Alpha and I hit the town. Well, not really. Hitting the town is maybe a massive exaggeration. What we actually did was go to the cinema and then the pub. Not especially fancy but pretty exciting for us. But the best bit of the evening was our mode of transport. Yes, we stole our daughters' scooters. You may think that the sight...

It's that time of year again. That time of year when I start to feel a little physically dejected. Don't get me wrong, I love summer. I love sunshine and I love the fact that I no longer have to experience the daily struggle of hoisting up the crotch of my 60 denier tights from their inevitable downwards creep (can someone please invent tights that stay UP? Is this too much too ask?). It's just that now I am irrefutably thirty-something (ugh, the very words stick in my throat) preparing for the Grand Unveiling Of The Flesh is an increasingly mammoth task. Just two years ago, although I was most certainly thirty-something even then, the beautifying regime was a little easier. What has happened in the past two years that a tub of fake tan and my trusty Epilady can no longer remedy? And if this slippery slide is to continue, what fresh horrors are in store as I start to edge unwillingly towards forty-something ? Will I forced to trade in the au-pair for a team of live-in beau...