Result?

When I was 10 years old I made my first visit to our local rugby club. That was the day that went on to shape my formative years.

There weren't many young teenage girls in the 90s who spent every weekend surrounded by big burly blokes - well not in my home town anyway! 

By the age of 16 I'd witnessed enough to make my university days seem tame in comparison. Half naked blokes, yards of ale, language that would make your granny blush - just a normal Saturday! For my 18th birthday a group of them even stripped for me, which was...interesting!

Of course it was all good humoured fun. Just a group of blokes releasing the pressures of a hard weeks work. Although how banging a tray repeatedly against your head does that I've still yet to work out...

Anyway, there was a reason why I suddenly decided to write all this down today...it's exam results time. (Stay with me!)

Spending all your time in a rugby club you'd think that the chances of some teenage one on one action would have been quite high. Well, definitely for some, but not really for me. 

To be honest I looked on most of those around my age in disdain. I didn't like them, they didn't seem to like me. I spent most of my teenage years in an awkward haze. The geeky older sister of the more popular one.  I was the one who worked the bar, ran the tuck-shop, helped in the kitchen. They were the ones who went out and got pissed. It was all fine by me. To be fair, they were probably all lovely people, but teenagers can be dicks. Especially me. I was awful.

I screwed up my first chance of 'romance' at the tender age of 14 with an acute attack of embarrassment, met my first boyfriend during sixth form and finally ended up dating a rugby player when I was 19...and the least said about that the better.

There was that one though. The slightly older unattainable one. 

The one who embarrassed the hell out of me by performing the haka only millimetres from my face in the middle of the clubhouse. 

The one I could never look straight in the eye afterwards. 

The one who made me blush ever so slightly if he so much as glanced in my direction. 

I was working behind the bar just after GCSE results day. Most people were outside and in he walked, straight up to me in the bar.

"Hey, how you doing?" (Although, he didn't sound like Joey from Friends!)

Now, obviously he was ordering a drink but he was talking to me. Just me! I stared resolutely at the beer pump as he continued.

"So, did you get your results?"

I looked up.

"Have you decided what A levels you're doing?"

I placed the pint on the bar. "I've been at university a year now. Studying Law."

And with that he turned a darker shade of pale, mumbled something incoherent and walked off with his pint.

And that ladies and gentleman, is how you cure a crush on a guy with a name like a biscuit!

Not your average results day tale but I hope it raised a smile during what can be a stressful time!

All My Fault...

I don't swear much but when I do I like to really mean it. So, if you're of a particularly nervous disposition or are offended easily, I suggest you turn away now.

What a fucking awful day!

Toddler tantrum number three thousand, four hundred and...oh, who am I kidding? I stopped counting months ago.

It started off well enough. The 3 year old screamed because he didn't want to get dressed, because he didn't want to go to his swimming lesson, because he didn't want to leave the many electronic devices in the house. But I got him into the car, into the leisure centre, into his swimming gear and into the pool. Result! 

But then it all started to go wrong and the tiny part of the world I inhabit got to share in the joy that is my child. 

And this is where the swearing really starts...

I'd like to thank the people of Altrincham who are, quite frankly, a miserable bunch of judgemental fucktards. Not all of them in fairness but a good proportion. The ones who look on with frowny faces. Audibly tut when you pass them. Stand and stare. Whisper behind their hands. Laugh and shake their heads. One women even altered her path to avoid us like we had the fucking bubonic plague!

Now obviously my 3 year old's behaviour is my fault. 

It's my fault he refused to go to bed last night. It's my fault he got up at stupid o'clock this morning. It's my fault I took him out for a lovely lunch. It's my fault I refused to buy him the bubbles. It's my fault he's grown out of his trousers and I need to buy him new ones. It's my fault I try to stop him from licking lamp-posts. It's my fault he has to wear shoes in town. It's my fault I refused to go back for the bubbles. It's my fault I have to hold his hand whilst crossing the road. It's my fault he can't stick his hand down the side of moving escalators. It's my fault I refused to go back for the fucking bubbles. 

But this is all I accept responsibility for. Everything else is firmly his fault. 

I hate the way fucking middle class twats in this part of the world take any and every opportunity to look down on others. The way that they pretend that their children never had tantrums. If you're claiming they haven't then I'd suggest that (1) they're either too scared of you to do so (bit worrying), (2) their emotional development is slightly in question, (3) you've blocked the trauma from your memory, or (4) you're fucking lying!

I know it's slightly annoying when someone is screaming at the top of their lungs, but guess what? I live with him! And I put up with it far more than you do. And no, there is nothing wrong with my child, but thank you ever so much for your concern random stranger. HE'S JUST 3!!

After subjecting the good people of this blessed plot to my child's quite frankly, appalling behaviour we went back to the Leisure Centre for round 2 - the 8 year old's swimming lesson.

The dirty, stinky, cesspit that is Altrincham Leisure Centre then proceeded to mug me for another set of swimming lessons for the boys and a certificate and badge for the 3 year old. A badge which he immediately lost under a vending machine and I had to spend a good proportion of time on my hands and knees looking for.

After I'd spent a good ten minutes at reception trying to pay whilst shouting at the 3 year old to stop swinging on the turnstile the receptionist laughed and said, 'And you'll have another one to pay for before long'!

I simply stared back as the realisation of what she'd said sunk in.

Now, I know I've had to suspend my gym membership during the holidays and I've consumed a fair amount of chocolate and beer just to maintain my sanity...but in no way do I look fucking pregnant!

I then had to buy a bottle of cherry coke and a Yorkie to calm my nerves and spent the rest of the day looking at myself sideways in mirrors and shop windows to assess the damage.

So, just in case you require an executive summary: 

- 3 year old's are mini explosive devices ready to go off at any second;
- The people of Altrincham are judgemental fucktards;
- I am fat

APPROACH WITH EXTREME CAUTION!

We're Going On A Wine Hunt

So, I've been a little bit quiet recently so in true Blue Peter style, here's something I made earlier!

Some of you will have seen this little poem before on my Facebook page but I figured it deserved another outing.

With apologies to Michael Rosen. It's intended as an affectionate parody, rather than blatant plagiarism - please don't sue me, I'm not worth it...

We're going on a wine hunt

We're going to pour a big one

What a crappy day!

Everyone be scared

Uh-uh! Project homework!
Crappy project homework
We can’t ignore it
We can’t just fudge it
Better just do it
Glue, stick. Glue, stick. Glue, stick.

We’re going on a wine hunt
We’re going to pour a big one
What a crappy day!
Everyone be scared

Uh-uh! A tantrum!
A massive toddler tantrum
We can’t ignore it
Can’t we just ignore it?
We’re going to ignore it
Stamp, kick. Stamp, kick. Stamp, kick

We’re going on a wine hunt
We’re going to pour a big one
What a crappy day!
Everyone be scared

Uh-uh! A dress up day!
Another frigging dress up day
We can’t ignore it
Can we ignore it?
Better just scramble around at midnight pulling together an old curtain and a pair of tights into an anglo-saxon costume. (whilst wishing we’d ignored it)
Sew, swear. Sew, swear. Sew, swear.

We’re going on a wine hunt
We’re going to pour a big one
What a crappy day!
Everyone be scared

Uh-uh! Bed-time!
Apocalyptic bed-time.
We tried to bath it
We tried to calm it
So why is it running round the living room at 10pm in just a pull up acting like a little…?

We’re going on a wine hunt
We’re going to pour a big one
What a crappy day!
Everyone be scared

Uh-uh! The sofa
The lovely comfy sofa.
We can’t move off it.
Don’t want to move off it.
Better just close...our...eyes...on...it…...

Tiptoe! Tiptoe! Tiptoe!
WHAT’s THAT?

One pounding head!
Two bloodshot eyes!
A furry mouth!

IT’S A HANGOVER!

We’re not going on a wine hunt again!

A Weekend in Manchester...Sans Enfants!

I think I've discovered the perfect start to the summer holidays...Dump the kids on Grandma and go have your own grown up/child like fun!

Hubby and I headed out into the big city on Friday night for some whisky blending fun. Two hours later we emerged slightly more knowledgeable (although, please don't test me because, you know...whisky drinking) armed with two plastic bottles of personalised and 'unique' blends secreted in the inner pocket of hubby's coat.

Next stop, food! So off we went in search of some very fashionable, uber trendy chicken in a basket washed down with a root beer. Tick!

Our last call of the night was the Cloud 23 bar at the Hilton which has been on my 'must-do' list for a while. After queuing on the 'carpeted area' for a while we were finally allowed access to the lift by the guy pretending to be Kiefer Sutherland in 24. The views were pretty breathtaking and it triggered a memory of a very similar bar we'd been in in Havana, Cuba. You know, before kids...

We took a few obligatory selfies whilst waiting for our drinks to arrive when it suddenly occurred to me that I was enclosed in a glass case 23 stories up, with only a guarded lift as my escape route. Cue the mild panic attack. So we paid over £20 for two drinks which were left mainly untouched on the table, I imagine to the bemusement of the lovely waitress who apparently earned a 10% tip according to the bill...

But this is where the real excitement starts! On Saturday I dragged hubby to Comic Con!

I donned my Lt Uhura dress and knee boots, attracting the attention of a particular guy on the tram who wasn't sure where to look so just took to staring at regular intervals.

And then the queuing began...the loooong snaking walking queue to get in, the queue to buy a £2.50 bottle of warm Sprite. But nothing could dampen my enthusiasm, although I'm not sure I can say the same for hubby.

I browsed the stalls like a kid let loose in a sweet shop - how much memorabilia could I possibly acquire? And where the hell could I put it all? In the end I settled for a mystery box (oooooh!), a cuddly Captain Kirk (obviously), a signed book about strange goings on at a fictional University set in Lancaster (sounds intriguing), a board game (my first proper board game beyond the likes of Monopoly) and some bits for the kids (figured I shouldn't forget about them completely).

I returned Vulcan salutes, had a chat with a guy about 2 year degrees, saw Robert Llewelyn and Warwick Davis, stood near the 'Iron Throne', was blown away by some pretty awesome cos-play, was referred to as Lieutenant by a fellow Trekkie and had my photo taken with some random guy who liked my outfit...

It was AWESOME!! An incredibly inclusive, fun , not-your-typical Saturday afternoon out.

After a quick pint (Lt Uhura and the newly acquired Captain Kirk were now off duty) we headed home for our first piece of board game action. We played Pandemic three times and saved the world twice - not bad for newbies!

A bottle of Prosecco and a wee dram later and I managed to pull a muscle sitting on the floor playing Rummikub - the well known extreme sport! I then headed off to bed with some paracetamol to frequent cries of 'ow, ooh, ah' and not for good reasons...

So, as I contemplate picking the kids up I reflect on a pretty amazing weekend. Turning over 100% of the summer holidays to the kids is totally over-rated. I thoroughly recommend taking a weekend to reconnect with your inner child - or in my case, geek!

This is a Party Political Broadcast...

In this time of national crisis we need a strong leader. 

A leader who can unite the country under a banner of common ideals. 

A leader who will not shy away from the challenge at hand but will meet it head on. 

A leader who knows what needs to be done but can do it whilst rocking a killer pair of kitten heels.

I therefore hereby announce the formation of the Power to Parents Party (PPP). My manifesto is as follows:

• Extra funding for the research and development of hangover-free alcohol and fat free chocolate.
• Free babysitters for all on Friday nights.
• Children's bedroom doors will be set on a time-lock at weekends, only opening at 9am.
• Any child waking up at 3am will be deemed to have breached the human rights of the parents and dealt with accordingly.
• All children's extra-curricular activities will be outlawed before 11am at the weekend.
• Detention without trial for all under 18's with the sign off of at least 1 parent.
• An immediate end to school 'dress up' days.
• An immediate end to 'project homework'.
• Children's birthday parties will consist of sausage and pineapple on sticks with a round of musical chairs and pass the parcel. All other forms of birthday celebration (football parties, bouncy castle hire, rock climbing, crafts etc.) will be outlawed.
• At least 1 'duvet day' per month per parent with Mary Poppins on speed-dial.
• The Panini company will be banned from creating any more sticker albums.
• The following programmes will be banned: Numberjacks, Paw Patrol, Topsy and Tim and anything that has been subject to a 'remake' (i.e. Bob the Builder, Danger Mouse, Teletubbies, Postman Pat, The Clangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles etc. etc)
• YouTube will be immediately taken down with anyone caught 'vlogging' being subject to detention without trial.
• Wifi codes will be changed weekly and only made available when the bins have been taken out and clothes put back in drawers/cupboards.

As a mum, I feel I am more than qualified to run the country on this mandate and I have it on good authority that dads can be quite useful at times as well. 

Membership of the party is now open and changes/additions to the manifesto will be considered when submitted in triplicate to the PPP committee at least 6 months before the relevant meeting. 

Cheques supporting the campaign can be made payable to the PPP (US dollars only please). I look forward to your support. 

*Thank you very much.......doo, doo, doo, doo. Right. Good*

POWER TO PARENTS!

Fundraising Fatigue?

I've been the Co-Chair of my local primary school PTA for 4 years now and in that time the PTA has gone from strength to strength. 

I've tracked down missing ice-cream vans, detached £1 coins super-glued to reply forms in the wee hours of the morning, tried to work out who exactly the Christmas card design with no name in a school of over 400 belongs to, harangued people to buy tickets via Facebook and spent hours costing juice cartons at every available retailer in the Greater Manchester area. 

I've written minutes and annual reports, contributed to newsletters (late almost every week it should be added), designed leaflets, taken photos and flexed my event management muscles. 

I've laughed, I've cried and I've also needed the odd glass of vino to calm down. But overall it's been an incredible experience. 

I've made new friends and become a part of the school community. And all this whilst looking after a young baby/toddler. In fact, I was almost 8 months pregnant when I volunteered and can clearly remember running home from my first Christmas fair with leaky boobs to feed the 6 week old! (Too much info?)

In the time that I've been involved with the PTA, the committee have experienced births, deaths, marriages, illness and hospital stays. We've looked after each others kids when things don't quite go to plan. We've shed a tear or two, offered shoulders to cry on and visits to the pub when a shoulder just isn't enough. We've drunk copious amounts of coffee and spent hours crafting, crocheting, cutting and glueing.

And it's not just the committee. We're fortunate to have a dedicated bunch of volunteers willing to run stalls, sell coffee, set up events, fold raffle tickets and anything else we can set our mind to! 

Just not as many volunteers as we would like...but that's a different issue!

Last year we hit the £10k target for the first time and I was over the moon. We've funded iPads and books, cooking and sporting equipment, activities and trips, music projects and much much more. 

All of a sudden the hard work seemed worthwhile! 

But then reality hit. 

We'd have to do it all again next year!

I had 'Fundraising Fatigue'. 

Why can't someone else do it? Does anyone really care? What's the point? Another bake sale? Aaaaaaaaaah!

A few of us felt stuck in a rut. New fundraising ideas were rejected at meetings and we felt we were rehashing the same ideas over and over again. A case of 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it!'

The consensus was to 'Keep Calm and Carry on' (the cliches are coming thick and fast at the moment!) and so we did. We arranged the fairs and the bake sales and the Christmas cards and the Mother's Day gifts and the Father's Day gifts... and we're on track to smash the £10k mark again this year.

Was I simply stuck in a rut or is it time to move on? It's hard to know and at least I've got until September to mull it over.

What is certain is that our school PTA is an incredible organisation supported not only by the committee, but by parents, staff and pupils. So I'm dedicating this blog post to all my PTA friends, past and present. To those that listen to me moan on a daily basis and to those that are always available via Facebook Messsenger. To those that apologise for not being able to do more and to those who do whatever they can.

Will I continue in role? Possibly... Probably... 

Depends whether the school and parents still want me. Or whether a slightly hormonal, heavily pregnant, over-eager mum turns up to the AGM. See you there!

Moving On...

You've probably gathered now that I'm firmly in the Remain camp. Two days on and I'm still angry, confused and upset over the decision. But the majority have spoken.

If I put aside for the moment concerns about the economy, about jobs, about political stability and so on, what has really worried me over the past 24 hours is the way people are treating each other.

There have been some messages on Facebook which I've found genuinely upsetting. Members of the Leave camp telling others to grow up, to get over themselves, to stop being hysterical. Members of the Remain camp making personal and insulting comments about those that have voted to Leave.

These kind of comments show a basic lack of understanding and compassion for what other people are going through. The irony being that the people making these kind of comments are banging on about democracy in action and then want to deny people their freedom of speech.

And let's face it. If the vote had gone the other way we would be seeing exactly the same kind of uproar on social media, just the other way round. 

I've seen debates go on for weeks in the media about the winner of the Great British Bake Off, about dogs cheating on Britain's Got Talent, about controversial voting in X Factor and yet only 24 hours after a vote which could potentially change every aspect of our lives we're supposed to just accept and it move on!

The real cause of anxiety for many people is the fear of the unknown. No-one really knows what's going to happen and there will probably be winners and losers. But I do believe that this will impact people's lives.

What about the Brit living and working in continental Europe who is paid in sterling and suddenly has no idea how much money they have to live on?

What about the Europeans living in the UK, or the Brits living abroad who suddenly have no idea what their future holds?

What about those working for companies based in the UK who may see their job shifted to the continent?

Only 2 days on and we're already hearing that the House of Commons is in turmoil. 

One of the shadow cabinet is sacked and approximately half have threatened to leave. 

The Prime Minister has stepped down and somewhat churlishly refused to action Article 50 until his successor is in place. 

The Conservative party are fighting over who will be the next PM and are already backtracking and saying there is no need to rush to invoke Article 50 while the EU are telling us to get out already! 

The Lib Dems wade in by saying they will rejoin the EU if elected, but I think you'll find they don't want us after this! 

Some organisations and countries around the world must be rubbing their hands together in glee at the fact that we've pressed the 'Self-Destruct' button,

A petition demanding another referendum has reached over 2 million signatories and will therefore have to be debated in Parliament. Personally I think this is a backwards step. After all the pain the referendum has caused why the hell would we want to go through all that again? And where does it end? If the vote went the other way on the second attempt would the Leave campaign demand another referendum. 

We have to accept the decision and plan for the future but we also need to understand that some people will find this difficult. 

The irony is that at the moment we've chosen to break free we actually need to show unity. We need to stand together to make the best of what we have. And the first thing we can do is show compassion towards our friends who might feel differently to us. 

People are upset. Let them scream. Let them shout. Freedom of speech is one of the important pillars of our society. Let's not lose that as well.