Just when you think you've got a day mapped out.
I had to hold my hands up and throw myself on the mercy of the bus driver, having given in to applying for a new bus pass.
At first, I resented having to pay the 'lost' penalty, but I've already spent that on petrol in the last three days driving her myself!
Could she please, PLEASE, get on the bus in the meantime? (Flashing my best impersonation of Puss from Shrek. Which probably in reality made myself look as though I was suffering from a nut allergy.)
I was driven to do such a thing because I was crazed with traffic tension.
I didn't fancy finding out which one was going to crumble first, me or the 'billy cart'. (car)
That night, I went to bed frazzled, but relieved the bus driver took pity on my tangled facial expression.
I agreed, appreciating what would be fair in front of the other children. I had to ask.
The next morning, I watched the animated exchange of understanding between the Peep and said bus driver.
I mentally punched the air, as the bus drove away with all the peeps on it!
The dog would get a longer walk that day. 'Yes!'
That same afternoon, I get home from my part time job and crack on with the south face of the Edgier looming from the laundry hamper in the kitchen.
Every thing happens in the kitchen. Art, cooking, disco, coffee house, office and yes, laundry.
I have the radio turned up while the washing machine is doing zumba in the corner.
Can't then hear the phone ringing.
Eventually, I hear the answer phone kick in.
It's playing dance music.
Then my bag goes off like an angry hornet.
While all this is going on, I'm doing my best to inhale a humus salad wrap and trying to pull up a documentary on the lap-top. I couldn't seem to do either successfully without it escaping through the other end.
Anyway, this hornet wont give over and I answer it.
Three missed calls from Moopa and two from li'l Peep's school. The school try again.
Uh oh.
"Your daughter has had an accident. it probably needs looking at. Can you collect her now please?"
"As soon as I can!"
Right, kicked myself into fifth gear, ......remember pain relief, call Moopa, turn off lap-top, take dog out for a wee, wipe humus off jumper, stump impatiently around outside because she won't wee.
All and more accomplished and I rattle off to try to beat the mounting Friday traffic.
When Peeps came out of the sick room, it looked as though she had shoved her games jersey down the side of her sock. Needs looking at,... I can see it from here thanks!
Nearly made me sick!
Off to take my busted up little soldier off to minor injuries.
They know us there.
I wanted to cuddle away the pain, she was in allot of it. Right, hospital.
The urgency was desperate as she felt every bump in the road, finally get there and she can't even hop.
This isn't just any injured ankle, this is an M&S injured ankle.
Life stood still after we signed in.
Finally the ex-rays. Then a discussion as to what next.
Maybe they were closed at the fracture clinic, but they decided to treat whatever was going on as a break. The plaster was gargantuan and weighed a stupid amount.
Consequently, she stayed in bed for three days trying not to move. Pain relief just never seems enough.
Thus, I prayed for a conclusive out come of all this at the next visit to the fracture clinic.
Our prayers were answered, we all mused over this odd ex-ray and decided it was tendon and ligament damage.
Peeps is now the proud owner of a much lighter, light blue cast.
Her big sister has given her a much needed pedicure and love heart designs on the top.
Now, I wonder how I'm going to get her to into the non-negotiable rain protection, so she doesn't come home with a carrier bag full of unravelled light blue cast.
Still can't find her bus-pass.
Love Val X
Wednesday 25 April 2012
Oh St. Anthony, Where art thine....stuff?
My husband's Nan used to call upon St. Anthony when ever she couldn't find something.
Are there rules to the St.Anthony method of finding things?
Do you have to call his name out three times......then turn twice, counter clockwise in stocking feet?
Simutaniously throwing salt at a black cat whilst saluting a magpie?
St. Anthony's abode is probably constructed from all the stuff we've ever lost. He's not giving most of it back!
He's probably yelling things like, "Get a NEW one! That'll teach you for taking your eye off the ball, ya Muppet!"
I guess once your canonised, you can be as harsh as you like.
The more important the thing you're trying to find, the more illusive it becomes.
You put something down and sometimes, in as little as thirty seconds, the damned thing is gone!
Not only that, you can't remember what you were doing, or coming from, when said item suddenly becomes animated and independent at the same time.
It is the sort of blank you suffer from when some one says, "Turn over your paper....your time starts ,NOW."
This renders your capacity to piece the trail together completely useless.
The longer you are lured away from the 'thing' you need, the more likely it is beginning to look like you ARE going to have to buy a new one.
Only then, within the week, will you find the original.
This only applies to something that is replaceable. If you've lost your friend's hamster....sorry, but you are on your own. I Don't want to get involved.
Also, Do Not put things some where safe! Do Not lick frosty, metal gate posts! Do Not wander around trying to find a clever, SAFE place to put things until you can actually put it away.
(Not in the current book you're reading. That doesn't work.)
Put it away!
If you really can't put it away, put it in one place and make sure it's glaringly stupid!
Make sure you put it some place where you might cause yourself injury until you can put it away where it belongs.
Keys.
Buy a large feather duster to attach them to.
Choose a loud colour.
If you're a fella, um....attach them to a rubber shark.
What ever you decide on the stupid place, have fun doing it.
The more nuts the idea, the harder it will be to become distracted when you're harangued.
In the meantime,
St. Anthony? Where the samhill is the kid's bus-pass???!!!!
Love Val X
Are there rules to the St.Anthony method of finding things?
Do you have to call his name out three times......then turn twice, counter clockwise in stocking feet?
Simutaniously throwing salt at a black cat whilst saluting a magpie?
St. Anthony's abode is probably constructed from all the stuff we've ever lost. He's not giving most of it back!
He's probably yelling things like, "Get a NEW one! That'll teach you for taking your eye off the ball, ya Muppet!"
I guess once your canonised, you can be as harsh as you like.
The more important the thing you're trying to find, the more illusive it becomes.
You put something down and sometimes, in as little as thirty seconds, the damned thing is gone!
Not only that, you can't remember what you were doing, or coming from, when said item suddenly becomes animated and independent at the same time.
It is the sort of blank you suffer from when some one says, "Turn over your paper....your time starts ,NOW."
This renders your capacity to piece the trail together completely useless.
The longer you are lured away from the 'thing' you need, the more likely it is beginning to look like you ARE going to have to buy a new one.
Only then, within the week, will you find the original.
This only applies to something that is replaceable. If you've lost your friend's hamster....sorry, but you are on your own. I Don't want to get involved.
Also, Do Not put things some where safe! Do Not lick frosty, metal gate posts! Do Not wander around trying to find a clever, SAFE place to put things until you can actually put it away.
(Not in the current book you're reading. That doesn't work.)
Put it away!
If you really can't put it away, put it in one place and make sure it's glaringly stupid!
Make sure you put it some place where you might cause yourself injury until you can put it away where it belongs.
Keys.
Buy a large feather duster to attach them to.
Choose a loud colour.
If you're a fella, um....attach them to a rubber shark.
What ever you decide on the stupid place, have fun doing it.
The more nuts the idea, the harder it will be to become distracted when you're harangued.
In the meantime,
St. Anthony? Where the samhill is the kid's bus-pass???!!!!
Love Val X
Tuesday 10 April 2012
On the loud side of bright
'Mend and carry on', a little home-spun survival tip when dealing with things hardly bigger than a wool sock. Actually, don't sell old socks short.
I know I shouldn't have been driving the car any more than I should have, but 'shoulda, woulda, coulda', are the words of someone with a little peep, music lessons and an unreasonable desire to check out a near-by pet shop.
She's the little peep in which adventures happen. A pair of crutches in the back was the result of her last one.
We putt-growled our way around until I chose a side road in which to turn around.
Pointed in the right direction, our less than aesthetically pleasing 'billy cart' car unleashed seven kinds of fury, pinning a pensioner protecting his garage, baring the last of his own teeth.
Little Peep put on her scratched, rose coloured glasses with one arm, and stared straight on.
I don't know who I felt worse for?
I made my apologies, and propelled our monster noise out of the too small space, leaving a shattered gent with probably one less tooth for the experience.
Down hill from here, kiddo.
With every inch, we likened a twin engine by-plane dragging a shanty town behind.
Free wheeled around a round-about, then coasted to a stop down a more tolerant side street.
Yay, we have breakdown....just call someone......card must be here.......wait.'
My older Peep at home. 'Hi, is there paper work for....well how 'bout next to my bed, in the nest of....
No? Book mark....ya, I remember now, that was to remind me to...
Ah, you're a good gal, cheers'.
Once on the phone to the breakdown operator, 'What's wrong, well the muffler fell off......the muffler... you know, the muffler thing on the bottom of the car and on the road. I don't know what else to call it? The thing that keeps the engine from sounding like a speed boat slowly blowing up!' (What the hell is wrong with this woman, every one......) 'Oh, that sounds like it.....the exhaust. Yup. Well it's now on the floor.'
(Humble,) 'That's brilliant, an hour, and the sun is coming out.'
Just time enough to nip around the corner get some warm, soggy chips and a bottle of something fizzy! Small Peep has worked her way through the other arm of said rose coloured glasses. From sheer painful anguish. I reflected that this whole episode could have kicked off at 60m.p.h. on the relief road and left us hanging by one tyre on the fly over.
Also, I've seen this before, caused by separation anxiety from hand held games console. I must be compensating for mental anguish by actually agreeing to a cola. Bright sides have a valued place. Take care of that space.
The kid burps like a viking.
The recovery man was not long in coming! He spotted us from half way down the road. With the occasional earth tremor after cola swig and the mangled metal that could have once been a motor bike under our 'billy cart'.
He could not dislodge the remains......The Peep took one more brave swig to bounce a few times.
We all agreed it was worth a go.
Sadly no.
But we did have a birds eye view from the cab of the lovely fella's cab as we dragged the monstrosity through town.
I felt like we were visiting dignitaries when he drove us home though our small village.
Cheers!
Love, Val.
I know I shouldn't have been driving the car any more than I should have, but 'shoulda, woulda, coulda', are the words of someone with a little peep, music lessons and an unreasonable desire to check out a near-by pet shop.
She's the little peep in which adventures happen. A pair of crutches in the back was the result of her last one.
We putt-growled our way around until I chose a side road in which to turn around.
Pointed in the right direction, our less than aesthetically pleasing 'billy cart' car unleashed seven kinds of fury, pinning a pensioner protecting his garage, baring the last of his own teeth.
Little Peep put on her scratched, rose coloured glasses with one arm, and stared straight on.
I don't know who I felt worse for?
I made my apologies, and propelled our monster noise out of the too small space, leaving a shattered gent with probably one less tooth for the experience.
Down hill from here, kiddo.
With every inch, we likened a twin engine by-plane dragging a shanty town behind.
Free wheeled around a round-about, then coasted to a stop down a more tolerant side street.
Yay, we have breakdown....just call someone......card must be here.......wait.'
My older Peep at home. 'Hi, is there paper work for....well how 'bout next to my bed, in the nest of....
No? Book mark....ya, I remember now, that was to remind me to...
Ah, you're a good gal, cheers'.
Once on the phone to the breakdown operator, 'What's wrong, well the muffler fell off......the muffler... you know, the muffler thing on the bottom of the car and on the road. I don't know what else to call it? The thing that keeps the engine from sounding like a speed boat slowly blowing up!' (What the hell is wrong with this woman, every one......) 'Oh, that sounds like it.....the exhaust. Yup. Well it's now on the floor.'
(Humble,) 'That's brilliant, an hour, and the sun is coming out.'
Just time enough to nip around the corner get some warm, soggy chips and a bottle of something fizzy! Small Peep has worked her way through the other arm of said rose coloured glasses. From sheer painful anguish. I reflected that this whole episode could have kicked off at 60m.p.h. on the relief road and left us hanging by one tyre on the fly over.
Also, I've seen this before, caused by separation anxiety from hand held games console. I must be compensating for mental anguish by actually agreeing to a cola. Bright sides have a valued place. Take care of that space.
The kid burps like a viking.
The recovery man was not long in coming! He spotted us from half way down the road. With the occasional earth tremor after cola swig and the mangled metal that could have once been a motor bike under our 'billy cart'.
He could not dislodge the remains......The Peep took one more brave swig to bounce a few times.
We all agreed it was worth a go.
Sadly no.
But we did have a birds eye view from the cab of the lovely fella's cab as we dragged the monstrosity through town.
I felt like we were visiting dignitaries when he drove us home though our small village.
Cheers!
Love, Val.
Saturday 7 April 2012
I beg to differ,my friend
I have just read a point of view article in this weeks R.T. BBC. by Bettany Hughes.
I'm probably the last to get on this band wagon of opinion as I was late and picking up my copy this week.
As I was looking something else up in the scriptures of the King James, I took this historian's article and put the inspired findings to argue. That history and the inspired word of God makes no bones about how we should perceive the preserved word of God. The Holy Spirit inspired a huge array of people to write the scriptures. It confuses me why this gal feels so defencive about how influential woman were in history and how woman influence the scriptures.
As for the comment 'who knows whether God is a girl,'....I think her beloved vicar has his work cut out. There are plenty of references to woman in scriptures(and men for that matter) that would do well to not stand in the spot light.
In Matthew 13:49-50 And he stretched forth his hand(Jesus) toward his disciples, and said, Behold my mother and my brethren!
For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother and sister, and mother.
So actually, I don't think there are too many pedestals there.
Here's the thing. We see all to often where religion is concerned, that there is a hierarchy on earth
that is confusing and judgemental. Naw, free yourself from these pressures. Their works on earth, stay on earth. If having a relationship with God and saying, 'Hey', when you kick off, matters to you, it's simple.
Luke 10:23-28. And he turned him unto his disciples, and said privately, Blessed are the eyes that see the things that ye see:
For I tell you, that many prophets and kings have desired to see those things which ye see, and have not seen them; and to hear those things which ye hear, and have not heard them.
And behold a certain lawyer, stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?
He said unto him, What is written in the law? how readest thou?
And he answering said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.
And he said unto him, Thou hast answered right: this do, and that shall live.
I believe, this is why.
No paradox. Doesn't everyone crave that from a relationship?
Love, Val. x
I'm probably the last to get on this band wagon of opinion as I was late and picking up my copy this week.
As I was looking something else up in the scriptures of the King James, I took this historian's article and put the inspired findings to argue. That history and the inspired word of God makes no bones about how we should perceive the preserved word of God. The Holy Spirit inspired a huge array of people to write the scriptures. It confuses me why this gal feels so defencive about how influential woman were in history and how woman influence the scriptures.
As for the comment 'who knows whether God is a girl,'....I think her beloved vicar has his work cut out. There are plenty of references to woman in scriptures(and men for that matter) that would do well to not stand in the spot light.
In Matthew 13:49-50 And he stretched forth his hand(Jesus) toward his disciples, and said, Behold my mother and my brethren!
For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother and sister, and mother.
So actually, I don't think there are too many pedestals there.
Here's the thing. We see all to often where religion is concerned, that there is a hierarchy on earth
that is confusing and judgemental. Naw, free yourself from these pressures. Their works on earth, stay on earth. If having a relationship with God and saying, 'Hey', when you kick off, matters to you, it's simple.
Luke 10:23-28. And he turned him unto his disciples, and said privately, Blessed are the eyes that see the things that ye see:
For I tell you, that many prophets and kings have desired to see those things which ye see, and have not seen them; and to hear those things which ye hear, and have not heard them.
And behold a certain lawyer, stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?
He said unto him, What is written in the law? how readest thou?
And he answering said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.
And he said unto him, Thou hast answered right: this do, and that shall live.
I believe, this is why.
No paradox. Doesn't everyone crave that from a relationship?
Love, Val. x
Thursday 5 April 2012
Love, Spit, Pray.
Hello,
My blog has been made because, I cannot as such be pigeon holed and sometimes my thoughts need a bit of a breeze.
I hope you enjoy reading my posts.
This is my first post so here goes...
Yesterday, I wanted to hide.
I also wish to add I have little or no patience for self pity. Oh I wouldn't begrudge anyone a few hours of wallowing, as long as they left room for accepting 'The right thing to do.' BE A MAN!
But actually, life can be slightly more complicated than that.
I wanted to hide, because it wasn't just me that became painfully aware of our financial situation.
My long suffering husband and I spent the whole day leading up to the realisation that we will be living on our wits and beans with toast until pay day.
The children are on half term, it's Easter Hols and our financial safety net has an obscene hole in it.
But I'm also aware that people all over are experiencing this in some degree or other.
You can spit in any direction in this village and find someone I wouldn't swap places with.
Particularly as someones just spat on them.
Our car is rough, but at least I can get to the garage if I need to.
Our flat is small, but we have our own beds.
Our garden is designed by God.
If he feels we need nettles and brambles, then whom am I to question ? It over looks a vast farmer's field and the tree lined river beyond.
Wouldn't be a farmer either. Too much spit.
I guess what I'm trying to say, there Is a trick to getting through all this.
This particular one works for me.
Openly appreciate those you love.
Keep positive, that helps if your canoe has tipped over. (metaphor)
I have a faith that releases me from commercial confines.
Easter for me is knowing that with the blood sacrifice of our Lord, means all doubts of his love are completely unfounded. No doubts.
No paradox.
No relying on my own understanding. Which to be honest has in the past, has put me right off.
Christianity is not something to be taken lightly. In order for me to function as a Christian, it means patience for the people that also can spit in any direction for them to come across someone they wouldn't want to trade places with.
Don't worry, I'm not patronising you or anyone else, just wiping the spit off and thanking God I have a hankey.
Love, Val.
My blog has been made because, I cannot as such be pigeon holed and sometimes my thoughts need a bit of a breeze.
I hope you enjoy reading my posts.
This is my first post so here goes...
Yesterday, I wanted to hide.
I also wish to add I have little or no patience for self pity. Oh I wouldn't begrudge anyone a few hours of wallowing, as long as they left room for accepting 'The right thing to do.' BE A MAN!
But actually, life can be slightly more complicated than that.
I wanted to hide, because it wasn't just me that became painfully aware of our financial situation.
My long suffering husband and I spent the whole day leading up to the realisation that we will be living on our wits and beans with toast until pay day.
The children are on half term, it's Easter Hols and our financial safety net has an obscene hole in it.
But I'm also aware that people all over are experiencing this in some degree or other.
You can spit in any direction in this village and find someone I wouldn't swap places with.
Particularly as someones just spat on them.
Our car is rough, but at least I can get to the garage if I need to.
Our flat is small, but we have our own beds.
Our garden is designed by God.
If he feels we need nettles and brambles, then whom am I to question ? It over looks a vast farmer's field and the tree lined river beyond.
Wouldn't be a farmer either. Too much spit.
I guess what I'm trying to say, there Is a trick to getting through all this.
This particular one works for me.
Openly appreciate those you love.
Keep positive, that helps if your canoe has tipped over. (metaphor)
I have a faith that releases me from commercial confines.
Easter for me is knowing that with the blood sacrifice of our Lord, means all doubts of his love are completely unfounded. No doubts.
No paradox.
No relying on my own understanding. Which to be honest has in the past, has put me right off.
Christianity is not something to be taken lightly. In order for me to function as a Christian, it means patience for the people that also can spit in any direction for them to come across someone they wouldn't want to trade places with.
Don't worry, I'm not patronising you or anyone else, just wiping the spit off and thanking God I have a hankey.
Love, Val.
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