Friday, December 12, 2008

Bleach or HRT?

Either, I'm turning blond or it's a sign of early onset menopause.

But just lately ,I've manifested some very strange phobias and done some very odd things.

My friends tell me I've always been odd, only now I'm noticing it, so it must be bad.

Last night I needed to turn the water temperature up on the boiler. It took me about an hour to go near it and then I couldn't remember which position it had been, to know which way it needed to be turned.

I don't change light bulbs until we virtually can't recognise each other when we're actually sat together. All because I hate heights, yet I would go up in a hot air balloon with any loony.

I've never worked out how to remove my petrol cap, without almost breaking the key off at the same time.
I feel stressed every time I buy petrol.

I have no idea how to check the water and oil in my car and consequently have had some interesting experiences with roadside rescue. The most memorable being,.
when I ran over the mechanics foot.

I find it impossible to set a digital clock. I don't trust them. Bring back the good old fashioned wind up.

Last month I threw the tumble dryer out of the laundry room window, trying to lift it onto the washing machine. Don't ask.

But my greatest faux pas has to be taking my girls camping, with a tent I didn't know how to erect and no wet weather gear what so ever. Yes you got it, it rained and blew a gale constantly.
We had the time of our lives.

Hallelujah for menopause

PS: I would have told you that I have a bad memory too, but I forgot.

My Secret Lover

My brother-in-law is visiting from Australia, he's wonderful with the children and amazingly helpful, but that's another story.

What's really great about him visiting, is the little gift he brought with him.

Violet Crumble, the name alone is delicious, Violet Crumble. It's like saying your secret lover's name, and they are my secret. I hide them from the children.

These chocolate covered little squares of honeycomb, come in a violet and gold bag, that looks almost good enough to eat as well. The advertising slogan on it says:

'It's the way it shatters that matters.'

And it is so true.

If you bite into them they taste good, but if you bash them with your pestle, the little pieces taste absolutely divine.

Ive eaten so many, my teeth ache and I think I've gone deaf in one ear from all the shattering.

Alas, only one more bag to go.

Must take the phone off the hook,snuggle up in bed with them and read a good book . Who needs a lover?


'Mum, can I wear eyeshadow to school?'
My twelve year old daughter was growing up too fast.
'I don't think so darling.'
'It's only a white sparkely (no such word, but I love it) one, it won't even show.'
'There's no point in wearing it then, is there?' I said, hoping she would forget all about it.
'But Mum, you don't understand, everybody wears it.'
'That doesn't mean you have to,' I said, 'you wear it at weekends and in the holidays, but school is a no no, it's not a fashion show.'
She went off in a sulk and I started to feel really guilty. But then it occurred to me, what I had done, when my Mother wouldn't let me wear platform shoes to school.
I borrowed a pair off a friend. We kept them in our lockers. I'd put them on as soon as I got to school, and leave the safe at home time.
The experience was delicious. Maybe it was better because I was doing it behind my parents back.
Had they allowed me to wear them, I would never have appreciated those moments in those shoes, as much as I did.
I probably wouldn't have the penchant I have now, for ridiculous, gorgeous, unwearable shoes.
That, quite honestly, would be awful. I love them, I surround myself with them; like works of art left all over the house.
I've decided to say 'no' to the eyeshadow.
The thrill she'll get, putting it on as she travels on the bus to school and removing it on the way back home, will be unforgettable.
I want her to have those little secrets.
She's such a good girl at school and at home. She deserves those exciting moments of rebellion, when you think that your Mum would go mad, if she knew.
When she's a grown woman, I know she will enjoy putting on her make-up. She will probably have drawers full of ridiculous coloured eyeshadow, that she'll never wear.
But, most of all, I hope she smiles to herself every time she picks one up, because it reminds her of a happy childhood.