Category: Family
The Crunch in Real Life – The Great British Holiday Empties
Sitting in a campsite, that is usually busting at the seams at this time of year – I am forced to reflect on the impact of the huge cuts that all of us below the levels of the wealthy pampered have been steam rollered into.
Around us, where there should be dozens of laughing and happy children, all enjoying the Great British Holiday, there are empty spaces. There are no children playing outside in the pouring rain. We were here the last two years at the same time of year, and the site was full of laughing, happy families and their children, splashing in huge puddles of thundering torrential rain. In a circle of 17 spaces that are usually crammed full, there are only three of us who have braved the economy, and the wet and wild scottish summer.
The site may fill up once the English children are all off school, but what does it say about the Scottish economy that a camping and caravan site that is usually full, is so empty? Yes, it is likely to fill up again for the weekender crowd, but without holidaymakers, there will be fewer sites to use, and the potential for “wild camping” will come back into business.
Camping and caravanning have seen a nice boom in recent years as money has tightened, although its safe to say that it is certainly not one of the cheapest hobbies around. There is something lovely about being able to relax in comfort, and away from your main home, and the absence of fellow holidaymakers this year has totally taken me by surprise.
Are seasoned caravanners and campers really giving up on their holidays and staying at home, or are they “wild camping” and being ostracised as travellers wherever they go.
It’s obvious that the campers and caravanners won’t be staying at home, but where are they? Are they staying closer to home to save petrol / diesel money, or are they taking off as our elder generations did?
My parents and grandparents both set off on adventures across the UK with packs on their backs in the summer time. I never did that. I wouldn’t feel safe doing that, especially now with the children, but I’d love to.
- Should “wild camping” be allowed?
- Should we be able to go, as we did as children – off into the wilds, and park where we felt the scenery is beautiful?
- Are we too focussed on the “scare tactics” that seem to be evident as news in todays media that we are over cautious of where we go and what we do?
- Is it really more dangerous today than it was in our grandparents younger days?
I don’t know. I only know that I don’t do some things that I would like to, and I shelve “just in case”. About the extent of my bravery, is my tin tenting with the kids while hub stays at home to work and keep an eye on grandma.
I am sad to see such an empty campsite and I hope the business picks up for them soon. I can’t really believe that people are “wild camping” instead, so it has to be that people have less money to spend using their lovely tents or caravans. Hopefully this isn’t one of the British Traditions that sees the end of many well run and well loved sites.
Silent Sunday – Dog in Glasses
When will MEN learn to PEE IN the TOILET?
It should have been a wonderful experience. It should have been 8 hours of pampered bliss.
After months of anticipation, waiting for the 24th of June to roll around on the way to Cybermummy 11, I tentatively stepped aboard the 7.52 from Aberdeen to head down to London. I was hoping that the trip was going to be full of excited tweets, and maybe a little work along the way. I splashed out and treated myself to first class tickets, and convinced myself that I was going to have a spectacularly wonderful journey, on the way to a spectacularly fantastic conference full of bloggers.
My first impressions went really well, and the seating suited me perfectly. Being an insular blogging tweeter, my chosen single seat meant that didn’t have to make polite conversation based on get out moments of unintentional eye contact. I settled in for the 8 hour trip, and very smugly, I opened my laptop to begin a marathon tweeting session. All seemed to go well until I tried to connect to the free wi-fi. After trying on and off for 2.5 hours, the guard did eventually say that the wi-fi and the promised power in the socket was out of order. My heart sinks with the realisation that IT IS NOT GOING TO WORK AT ALL. The reason I chose first class and paid more mullah was for WiFi and POWER. AND to top it all, I didn’t have any books with me.
Faced with the prospect of 8 hours on a train with very little, and patchy mobile signal, no power and a laptop that wasn’t going to last for an hour, I could only see the endless journey ahead of me while I stared out of the window. I religiously checked and rechecked the power point to see if it had come back on again. The woman and her daughter in the quad seat at the other side of me. eyed me sideways as I plugged in and out every fifteen minutes to see if it would come back on again. I’m sure they thought I had checked out of the closest hospital for the day.
On the map when I chose my seat at the point of booked, it showed a toilet right next to the seat I had picked. I worried slightly that the door would open onto where I was sitting, and that a toilety smell would invade my long journey. I needn’t have worried, as the entrance to the toilet, was through the carriage doorway. I breathed a sign of relief and smugly smiled at my decadence.
The man across from me, who got on at the first stop past Aberdeen, asked for a cup of coffee when they were taking orders for breakfast. He obviously just wasn’t with the programme as he stared at his ALL DAY menu, but was told that there would be no coffee again until after Dundee. I secretly giggled at his long face as I reached down and extracted my secret stash of juice to see me through the journey,
I gave up hearing the guards announcements by Edinburgh, but was pleasantly surprised on the way back up again on the Sunday, to be able to hear ALL of the announcements. I think some of it is a male thing. Deep voice + loud train = mumble, garble, burble.
On the way down, I ran out of juice in my phone, my laptop, and my emergency back up phone battery. Whats a girl to do on a train that has no wi-fi, or power working, and was daft enough not to have anything installed worth reading on the phone? Yup, you’ve guessed it – she sits and refreshes the content on her screen every 30 seconds and wills the wi-fi into life – just to make sure she isn’t the only idiot on the train staring out of the window when technology is boop boop booping for everyone else.
There was no wi-fi on the way back up the road again either, so I guess it’s just me who seems to be internetty challenged on trains, and I am grateful for the lovely Kathryn Brown from Crystal Jigsaw who played a game of cat and mouse with me while she planned waving a yellow flag from her farm, while I watched from the train (yup, I missed her). (ps, if you haven’t read her new book, you should, it’s fab). Kathryn – please forgive me for mentioning you in this post.
After holding in the desperate need to pee for as long as possible, the time finally came when I had to face the dreaded toilet. The bitter disappointment I felt when I entered the cubicle, will stay with me for life. There, like a vision of misery, was a soaking wet floor, with lots of bits of someone else’s toiletry paper adorning the floor like a decorated tapestry.
Now, forgive me for being a woman with too much expectation from others, but is it really too much to ask, for men to PEE IN THE TOILET. I have to say, that the biggest no no for me would be when I put down a toilet seat, and am then confronted with PEE LINES.
NO human should be subject to PEE LINES. Am I making myself totally clear?
And if they do pee on the toilet, or miss the pot altogether is it too much to ask for them to CLEAN IT UP AFTERWARDS…………?
Being the slightly obsessive toilet freak that I am, I take toilet roll from holder, and try to squirt a healthy dose of soap from the dispenser.
THERE IS NO SOAP
My bladder is going into overdrive, and the need to pee overtakes my need to sit on a sparkling like new toilet seat, but while I am in there, another train dweller begins to batter on the toilet door, and whang at the handle, and as I get ready to venomously spew out “whats your problem”, I open the door in a rage, to look down at a smiling junior battering ram. I laugh at the silliness and I ignore the pain pressing on my bladder, walk out of the toilet, and head back to my seat. I take my hand sanitiser and march back to wait in the now queue to the loo. At this point, the man opposite with serious liquid envy seems to snigger as I pass. I straighten my back and swish my hair with a flourish to get my own back.
A healthy dose of santisier, and I once again run back to my seat to grab the make up wipes that hide in the bottom of my never ending laptop bag. When I’m done, the toilet seat ends up as shiny as a new pin.
I ignore the “water” on the floor, and try to tell myself that it’s the result of drip dry hand shakers.
The piece of sodden loo roll scrunched up with what looks suspiciously like fresh blood fills my shoes with shaking feet. I seethe as I consider the fact that somebody needs to open up a school that deals with teaching men to pee straight. Women in their millions would book their men onto it, and we’d all live happier at home, on trains, and enjoy friends coming to visit.
With hours of a train journey still to go, a new obsession takes over. Every half an hour, my body decides to make me suffer with the necessity to visit the room of a million smells. Even Mr fluidly challenged begins to think it’s funny. Every male that passes me on the way to the loo, I eye up with daggers, convinced that the possibilities will make them pee straight in the loo.
Will MEN please learn to PEE IN the TOILET !
Who will take a leap of faith with me? Make a difference.
What did I learn from the conference in London for Cybermummy 2011?
It isn’t a trick question, honestly. I learned that I am capable of doing more.
This is not an ordinary blog post, I will save that for later. I need to get this out, and I need to begin talks. I am sorry for being so cryptic, but you know how the net is, and how ideas get lifted.
I need to reach brands, and I need to have talks with people who can, and people who won’t get paid for it, and won’t mind not getting paid.
It may, or may not work, and anyone involved will be taking a huge leap of faith with me.
If it doesn’t work, I may get egg on my face and be ostracised from the blogging community for ever, but this is something I had planned locally, that I want to amend and take further.
But, it’s not about me.
I’m not one for being light and fluffy, although I can be as niave and inconsistent as any other sleep deranged mother. I didn’t attend any of the money making sessions, and decided to head for the ones that would help me stay legal as an online blogger (but I did sneak in at the end of the over-running one which had successful business ladies giving a talk on how they make money from their blogs).
I have had an idea forming for a while that I had begun to move forward with implementing locally, but hadn’t as yet rolled it out or secured any sponsors. I know what I wanted to do, and what my end goals were, and it needs people to help get us there and take this to the next level. My ideas are based around a concept which needs work, and shaped, and I would love to have it corrected, and challenged by someone who is more skilled than I at developing concepts.
The beauty of it is that I don’t know how it will look in the end, or if many people will support it, but with the joint networks of bloggers, the potential is phenomenal.
I missed seeing some people I wanted to talk to, and for that I am regretful, but hopefully a chat can be opened up very soon to amend that.
A little discussion at the flower market on Sunday was the final catalyst that had me deciding to take this leap of faith, to believe in myself, and all of us, and do something about it across the UK blogging network.
The BIGGEST impression on me was made right at the beginning. Sarah Brown affected me. I am not going to deny that. I had expected not to like her, but after listening to her speak, and a shy hello, I changed my opinions, and the possibilities of working with her, or someone like her for the future began to spin in my head and make the potential of my projects wings spin even faster.
As the PM’s wife, she could have made the choice to be a well adorned, and beautifully dressed decoration to hang on the end of her husbands arms, and just be trotted out at public functions with a frozen smile on her face, and a damp platitude on her lips. She didn’t. She chose to act.
My blog is heading more and more down the road of serious issues, yet I also want to retain a sense of freedom, and call this blog mine. I want to add some light and fluffy things and take advantage of the little luxuries that life has dealt me. I will separate this project from my personal blog and twitter once an initial brainstorming session has been arranged and covered.
This project is not FOR me, it will only be started BY me. This will be OUR project.
I have had lots of ideas running for a long time, and I am ready to find support for them. My blog is not suitable for that. As I said, this project, is NOT about me.
From cybermummy11, I took away the impression that we can pull this off together, all of us, not just those who went to cybermummy.
Our world needs the people who go out and have fun and enjoy themselves, but it also needs ALL of us to move forward with taking some social responsibility.
I NEED – help.
I NEED – support
WE NEED a room where a group of bloggers who can, and / brands / interested parties can meet, with the travel and accommodation expenses of the attendees covered.
WHAT IF – i’m talking about you?
WHAT IF – you want to work with me?
WHAT IF you want to be part of us?
WHAT IF – you contact me?
WHAT IF you take a leap of faith with me?
WHAT IF you can spare an hour a year, or a month, or a week, or a day?
WHAT IF- you volunteer ?
WHAT IF you can write press statements.
WHAT IF you can provide the space, or the sponsorship?
WHAT IF you can make a difference, and have the contacts to help make my ideas into a reality?
WHAT IF we talk?
WHAT COULD we do?
Sandals with Trousers
Are these ok to wear with black trousers and a black top. I am colourifically challenged.
Hellllppp.
Twitter answer is fine.
The Lure of the BMX Bike – Peer Pressure at Work
My eldest wanted a new bike at christmas, but it couldn’t just be any bike. It had to be a BMX. The reason for that was that he wanted the “cool” badge at school by having one. He also wanted to be able to start doing stunts, and needed a bike that you can turn the handlebars right round in a 360 degree circle without any cables getting in the way.
I think it looks ridiculous to see those big lads on those teensy bikes, but that’s what he wanted, and thanks to a sale in a toy shop, that’s what he got. He is happy as larry, and enjoys spending time with his BMX.
What it also raises is the red flag of the peer pressure and how it affects our children when they are only really very young. Right from babies, on TV there are adverts aimed at them. Cereals, sweets, toys from October onwards, and there seems little we can do to shield them from it.
Even if we self consciously ban TV channels that carry the adverts, and keep them away from films and programmes that we don’t approve of – they still ARE going to find out all about them in the most gory sense of the words, and without the benefit of censoring.
School playgrounds and parks are hotbeds of gossip, slander, and peer pressure. If you are at a non-uniform school and happen to wear the wrong trainers, the consequences can wound you past adulthood.
When my children were very young, I decided that I would not bow to peer pressure, and that my children would wear what I bought them and be done with it.
Several years on, I am glad that there are some discount sports shops and ways to get hold of sports gear and shoes at reasonable prices, or I would struggle to meet the demands that our children place on themselves, AND have placed upon them by others.
Yes, there is the argument that there are children worse off than ours, and that ours should be grateful for what they have. I have had a lot to do with disadvantaged children, and believe me, that argument won’t hold water with your children, or stand up when they are being made a fool of by the children who “have”.
Our children live in the socio economic circles of their peers (in most cases). They can no more understand the difficulties surrounding children who have little, than we can understand how our great great grandmothers cleaned and cooked and provided for families of 14 children or more in two rooms.
What we can do, is try to keep it within reason, and not try to keep up with the children who will always have everything. Most of those children who get everything will never appreciate the value of their money, or the ability to manage a budget (you know the ones, with every new product going, and a new toy nearly every day).
I have accepted that my children can not match many of those children, but I provide for some of the things that they “need” to be accepted when it fits my budget. The right trainers are do-able at the discount sports shops, as are some football kits. I buy the football boots in the sales and stock up on the next sizes. I don’t go overboard, and if my kids had their way, they would have every game console and game that is on the market (and believe me some of their friends do have that).
There are times that we have to accept the peer pressure, and work within it to give our children the self-esteem that they need to live among their peers, but also be responsible enough not to let them be the pampered brats that grow up respecting nobody.
It’s a fine line between showing off and being practical. Sadly, it is the children who always end up at the end of it, suffering at either end of the scale. The middle ground to me, has to be the right place to be.
Where do you sit in the debate?
Vlogging – My Home from Home
I don’t think I have got the hang of this properly yet. If someone has some tips for embedding the videos, please feel free to email me, or let me know. The videos that come up after my one has played are not mine. Youtube put them there.
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I88xJjZEPbU&feature=mfu_in_order&list=UL
To Bravissimo, Or Not To Bravissimo…
THIS IS NOT A SPONSORED POST
What do you know about bras and Bravissimo? Do you think they are just an expensive lingerie company?
Until recently, I was blindly ignorant, and knew very little about bras. I knew I hated all the ones I had worn over the last two decades, and I had spent a small fortune on supermarket cheap brands, and even on some not so cheap brands from some well-known department stores.
I saw bosom holders as a necessary, but evil need to hold in my growing bust. I hated the way that I looked in clothes, and hated how I always felt like I was not properly supported. Blindly, I still bought and then stuffed bras that were never going to be any use to me into my bottom drawer.
I did once have my bosom measured by a very efficient and knowledgeable woman at M&S, who supplied me with a bra that gave me backache. My next attempts were to do the measure with a tape under the bosom, then add-on for the cup size. I never, ever got that right, and every bra and brand seemed to be different.
Most of the supermarkets and shops I tried bras on seemed to either be out of stock, or they didn’t stock in my size. For years I have been blindly wearing 40C or 38DD, or just whatever I could get my hands on. I even stooped at times, to using bra extenders at the back to make a smaller bra feel more comfortable around my back.
When a friend mentioned Bravissimo to me, I almost snorted to myself, but she made a compelling argument. I tried to ignore the foreboding feeling that came over me when I walked up to the shop in Aberdeen, and climbed the stairs to the secret lair. It’s best to make an appointment, as I found out when I arrived, as it takes a little time to be fitted at Bravissimo.
I was lucky enough that there was an appointment within half an hour, and I was soon standing in the cubicle with the assistant surveying my existing excuse for a bra. I cringed as I saw myself in the mirror, but steeled myself to having to go through the fitting process. She took my current size as a gauge, and from there, the trying on and off of different back size and cup sized bras began. I was surprised to find that my back size is actually a 36 / 38 E or F, depending on the chosen bra, and there were a multitude to choose from.
In the end, my favourite one was the Panache Porcelein Bra. I ended up with it in both the Black, and Nude colours. I love the way that the nude colours totally disappear under white t-shirts. I instantly felt supported as soon as I put that one on. It also has enough moulding that our female bits won’t end up on show if it gets slightly chilly. The shape it gives me under my clothes makes me a happy girl and it seems to hide my belly, as it shapes my boobs so well.
How tight the back was for me, surprised me at first. Realising I was wearing most of my bras too loose, then totally leaving me unsupported was a revelation. Since wearing my Bravissimo bras, my backache has disappeared – totally. I wish I had found out all of that earlier. They fit you into the biggest hook of the bra, so that in natural wear and wash, if it gets slightly looser, then you can tighten it up a little. I would also imagine that would apply for losing a little weight as well.
The assistant spent a long time going through many bras with me, and I bought 4 at the time, and have since gone back to buy 2 more of the panache porcelein ones.
I have also bought a lovely black tankini with fabulous fold over briefs and I have my eyes on a few more items for over the summer. I am used to buying swimsuits for either the coverage, or the length, as I have a long body. I find most swimsuits too short, and tankinis always leave a bare midriff. I was really pleased to find the combination of tankini and fold over briefs means that I got supported swimwear without a midriff on show.
Why am I writing a review?
I hope to help other people blindly suffering along with supermarket style bras, and who con themselves into thinking 10 cheap ones are better value than one or two good ones, but who feel too self-conscious to go for a proper fitting.
I found the staff very helpful. The girl fitting me went out of the changing room each time I changed bra so that I didn’t feel uncomfortable. She offered, and I appreciated that very much. By the end of the fitting, I had forgotten to be embarrassed by my over ample assets, and settled in to the pampering of having a personal assistant to help with the shopping. It was a luxurious and indulgent fitting, but oh so well worth it.
Yes, the bras are more expensive than I am used to paying for, but in my opinion, already, they are worth every penny for the support and shape. They are also washing very well, and I can see these bras lasting far longer than my old ones.
ALL my old bottom drawer bras have been consigned to third world support, through the bra depositories that Bravissimo have in store. My old bras, that have never fitted me, might come in useful for someone from another country who cannot afford any bra at all.
Even though Bravissimo advertise as for the larger figure at over a D cup, I could understand how many B to D cups buyers could actually be wearing too big back sizes with too small cup sizes.
Don’t take my word for how good they are. Go and visit Bravissimo to see for yourself. http://www.bravissimo.com/
Thank you to Bravissimo for allowing me to use their photographs for my review.
Silent Sunday 05/07/11
Operation Overtime
It’s over. The operation is done. I am home, and not able to eat and drink much is doing wonders for the size of my backside (not fast enough though). The nose op is past, and I am looking forward to being able to breathe through both nostrils properly again. A bone spur removed, the septoplasty done, debris from past damage cleared out, and sinus flush.
I could really have been done without the surgeon coming to see me 15 minutes before the op to tell me that just under 1 in 100 of these ops go wrong, and the consequences are devastating, ie brain damage. Now that sent me into total overdrive, my face went puce, and I could feel the flush raise to my ears. I nearly bottled the op there and then, but I suspected the odds were not quite what they should have been. If I had really thought the odds were 1 in 100, I would have definitely, got up, changed out of my gown and headed for the nearest door as fast as I could run.
I pretended not to hear, went down to theatre, the surgeon apologised for causing me last-minute stress, and offered me laughing gas to get the needle in the back of my hand, which I pathetically and gratefully accepted.
Home after the op on the day, I felt fine. I watched a film, chilled out and rested. They must have given me some gooooood pain relief. Day 2 and I was floored. The failure of operation germ avoidance kicked in and added a cold with sore ears to the mix of sore nose, oozing gunge, and throat and voice gone.
The headache is awful, and the hospital don’t send you home with enough saline sniff packs, syringes to do it with, or nose bandage things, as believe me, there is a LOT of gunge comes out.
The nurse in the ward was lovely, and my kids have been strangely behaving reasonably well. I have a purple nose, only one slightly black eye, and I think I am doing not too badly.
Image: Michelle Meiklejohn / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
I would have to say though, that I once had a big open laparotomy (where they split open your belly) and that was much more pleasant in the aftermath than this is. Off to drown headache with water and prescribed drugs.
Yours Wimpishly Pathetically
Scottish Mum
Operation Germ Avoidance
I had arranged a twitter meet up with my first ever real life tweeter for last week. When that was cancelled, I decided that avoiding all crowds between then and this coming week would be sensible. I decided not to go to kids club, football, or any public places where breathing in germs was more likely.
Just to make matters worse, on Friday, middle son decided to wake up with a cold. In typical “manflu” fashion, he is walking around the house, and delving into everything and anything in his annoyance at feeling slightly out of sorts. Trying to keep my distance from him is an operation of gargantuan proportions. I keep asking him to sit across the room from me, but not having school (long story), he is used to being beside me all the time, and coming over to talk to me. He has a habit of talking right up at my face. I’m putting my hand across my face, and he thinks it’s hugely funny.
At each sneeze, I send him through to wash his hands and then chase him around the house and wipe the door handles with dettol wipes. My paranoia has reached epic proportions and I am tempted to go out and buy one of those non-helpful face masks that cover your nose and mouth.
At the supper table last night, lovely “manflu” child decided to drink out of my glass when my back was turned getting seconds for my youngest. I felt hugely relieved, and very smug that I spotted his deadly germ spreading efforts, and didn’t then go and finish my drink while ingesting the remnants of his germ filled saliva.
Why am i in operation germ avoidance?
Well, this is my second attempt to have the surgery that has been scheduled. I got a bad cold at the last attempt, and had to cancel the day before the op. The op is actually no big deal. I seemingly had a broken nose, or a big thump on it when I was young, and the damage inside my nose has meant that the nostril is closing up over time. I also have really bad sinus problems, so while they are in repairing the damage, I will be getting a sinus flush out.
I took it in my stride when I was told I was going to be operated on at first, and didn’t think much about it – UNTIL – the nurse told me it was a 2.5 – 3 hour operation. For some reason, I was expecting just a quick half hour and then back out and on with my day. I just about fell off my seat in the shock. Having an op on your face that is going to last 2.5 – 3 hours has turned me into a quaking germ avoiding wimp.
I’m dreading beginning the signs of cold, infection, flu, or anything else that might cancel the op this time round, as that means, they will either think that I am deliberately cancelling at short notice, and give up on me, or I have to do the lead up time all over again.
Which is why I have to post this, as I have just finished gargling and scrubbing like mad after my lovely son decided to come right up to my face to tell me something and delivered the biggest, most snot and germ throwing sneeze you can ever imagine right into my face.
Operation germ avoidance is a #fail.
Absolutely lovely, I made extra and will add garam masala ect to make s lovely smooth curry sauce
Nice post!
Looks delicous...thanks for sharing the wonderful receipe...