Just read someone's 'Interesting Facts About Me' (Them-me not me-me) Blog & thought I'd blatantly copy.
1) I use other people's ideas rather than my own....
Nah-not really. Here's my real list:
1) I am useless at most things on the computer. I can't upload my own photos, locate files without assistance, set & remember p4sswords or make my computer do anything at a faster pace than that of a telegram from Kenya to London during WW2. However I can make a graph on a spreadsheet with the aid of my OU 'How to' guide, very useful for any housewife...
2) I am a housewife. I don't tie my hair up in a teatowel, wear a pinny or have wash-days and bake-days as I am a housewife in name only. I tut at dust and trip over the hoover but I suppose I keep my house looking approximately tidy, keep my kitchen & bathroom clean and feed people who are in my house. The awful American term 'At-home Mum' is probably the best description as I am a Mum and I'm mostly at home...
3) I have a 2nd class Honours Degree in Science allowing me to use the letters BSc Hons (Open) after my name which as we all know is an essential credential for any self-respecting 'At-home Mum'.
4) I used to be an Aircraft Engineering Mechanic in the Royal Navy in my youth and serviced/maintained Lynx Helicopters. HRH Prince Andrew was on my squadron and despite non-officers being banned from using the officers corridoors as a through-route to the Wrens locker rooms I used to waltz boldy through, with my high ponytail swishing from side-to-side and make a deliberate point of saying a chirpy 'Morning Sir' to him as I passed. No-one tells me where I can and can't go...
5) A lot of my interesting facts might be linked. As a result of my time as an engineer, I was offered a job at my local college lecturing in Aircraft Engineering. I taught there for 18 months, well I say taught, one weekly lesson I had to cover was in a 'workshop' where the students could build anything they liked. One group built an autoclave, another a hovercraft...?! I was an aircraft engineer, I was also a fish out of water but I maintained the required blagging air of 'I'm not going to tell you how to do it, I'm only here to supervise' and when I left to have Son2 in 2001 I vowed never again to do a job which hired me for one thing but used me for another...
6) I have also worked as a teaching assistant at Primary level and hold the High Level Teaching Assistant status. There's another job that has a job description that doesn't quite feel quite the same as the work you are actually doing...
7) I use the form of punctuation known as an elipsis far too often.
8) I have three children, two sons aged 11 and 9 and a daughter aged 4. They are fab. Free-spirited and loud at times but they're great fun to be around! I won't mush on about them though-overall, to the casual onlooker, they look like any other snotty-nosed kids!
9) I am married to quite possibly the most grumpy man alive on this Earth. I have actually known him to go a whole weekend without cracking a smile. Honestly!
10) If I could live in a house with a big kitchen and a bedroom for each of my children, in the village that we live in now my life would be pretty damn complete. As it happens fact 10 could alternatively read 'I wish I could win the lottery'...
11) I love reading. I love books. I get the same feeling of anticipation when looking at my bookcases that alcoholics probably get in Threshers. I am reading a book called 'The Bolter' by Frances Osborne at the moment. It is the true story of the author's Great (Great?) Grandmother, one of the 'celebrities' of her generation and it is fascinating. I see a book as my friend but my poor memory forbids me from taking them everywhere I go. There is no more irritating moment than that where you realise, once tucked up in bed, that your book is in the car...
Note: I do not however, get much of a thrill when I see Mr T's Clive Cussler books or my son's 'Beast Quest' books-the latter of which are usually scattered throughout my house!
12) Mr T is waiting for me to go through and watch 'Hustle' with him. I must be quick now.
13) I like TV but not in the day. I rarely sit down to watch anything before 9pm and hold Sky+ largely to account for that-curse that Murdoch for making it that little bit easier for me to dither around a bit longer each evening... Marple, Poirot and Midsummer Murders are some of my faves, but I also loved Lost and ER. I also enjoy most of the one-off dramas on the Beeb and ITV and find seasonal programmes such as Big Brother *chokes back tears* and X-factor ridiculously addictive.
14) Rather than TV in the day I listen to 5live. I started listening in 1996 when my kittens chewed the ariel off the back of my clock radio preventing me from tuning into any British wavelength other than 909 or 693. I would love to be a journalist working for the station, the only thing stoppping me is their move to the North-West...oh and I suppose my lack of experience and qualification in broadcasting. Hmmm.
15) Grammar and spellling are really important to me. If I make a spelling error or miss an apostrophe I die a little on the inside.
16) I lost 3 stone in weight last year on Weight Watchers. It was easy as pie. Or Pi for those on a diet...
17) Mr T also read books by other authors too. Sorry...yes, it's supposed to be about me...
18) One of my favourite meals is Spag Bol. I'm also partial to Roast Beef, Fajitas, Tacos and Curry although the takeaway we had tonight (1st in 5 months) was utterly horrible-I shall stick to cooking my own I think...
I also love baking but it takes me a lot of time to create a masterpiece and in our kitchen with very little workspace, if baking overspills into normal-meal preparation time my kitchen feels like a not-so-fun circus tent (esp when the children come prowling & salivating like tigers) hence the desire for a bigger kitchen!
19) I am atrociously disorganised. If organisation skills were graded 1-10 with one being the worst I would give myself 1. (I could so easily be mis-quoted on that...) Part of it stems from an absolutely disastrous short-term memory-I forget children (including other people's), birthdays, to return texts/phone calls, to arrange appointments, to attend appointments, important school-trip reply slips, medication-giving, to go out for lunch with friends (yes-last year!), my own sons' birthday party (Mum of Bailey: 'What time's the party tomorrow?' Me: 'What party?' Mum of Bailey (incredulous as she can see the genuine 'I-don't-knowness' on my face): 'Billy's-your son's?!!!'). Everything. If you are my friend, you have to learn not to take offence, not to get cross and to remind me of everything. Always.
20) I talk a great deal. I go on and on and on. People foolishly come back for more...
Friday 4 February 2011
Thursday 6 January 2011
What should have happened in Eastenders...I think...
Well it has been some week in Eastenders hasn't it? I mean it must be, because I never get to watch it and yet I am more familiar with the events of Albert Square this week than I am with the strange comings and goings of my own neighbourhood...
With thousands of complaints ranging from 'She'd definitely know it wasn't her baby' to the more painful reminders which it has envoked in other people who have endured a similarly horrendous loss in their own lives, the storyline has been one of the most controversial and emotional ever shown on a primetime soap. Having not watched it I am unable to comment (you'll be relieved to hear) on the story's relevance, worth or execution but I have nonetheless given it some thought & have quite unintentionally came up with an alternative which would have had the same qualities of shock and human predicament but with a festive-friendly humourous edge, and more importantly a distinct reduction in the all-too-high Borough of Walford death rate...
One thing which I must say about the current storyline (I didn't PROMISE did I?!) though is that I believe it is plausable that some people might not recognise their own baby when it is less than a couple of days old. Babies can be quite swollen, jaundiced and unusually-coloured in the days immediately following their birth. Most have blue eyes and not-much-hair (although my own Son1 had as much hair at birth as I have now but he's another story) and are all pretty much the same size. Son2 looked really butch for the 1st few days-baldy & red-faced (a bit like Phil Mitchell actually) but seemed to turn into a really lollipop-headed soft-looking teddy bear overnight. I'm willing to bet that if anyone glances into their pram & sees a baby in there wearing the same clothes it was wearing when they put it in there they'll not question too deeply any changes that could be attributed simply to washing the crusty bits off in the baby's first bath or the venthouse-head-swell finally subsiding etc. I say this in part, because my alternative story rests it's whole 'case' on the babies looking similar!
Okay, so this is it. I can't decide whether to do this as a script, a bullet-point list or a narrative so you may be in for an uncomfortable mix of the three. Just be relieved it's written at all-if I was saying it to you you'd have to bear with wild, unpredictable hand-gestures accompanying the story so you have something to be grateful for that I live too far away from most of you to put you through that as well.
Okay (again) so Kat and Ronnie have both got new babies. Cute little boys. Ahhh. Born on the same day at roughly the same time in the same places as the original storyline. So far so good. On the same day (1/2 days later) that the real Eastenders show the cot death, my alternative is one of happiness as both Mothers proudly go for a lunchtime drink and lunch (does the QV do lunch? In my one it does!) with their new babies and the head-wetting Dads. They both laugh when they see that (I don't know who?!) has been totally unimaginative in their gift to the babies, giving each identical sleepsuits from the market, which both babies are sporting on their first big day 'out'.
The matriachs that are Mo? (Kat's Nan) and Dot are sat together (I'm not sure if they get on but in that famous-since-Eastenders Eastend way, any differences are set aside for the welcoming of the Square's latest arrivals) and they are reminiscing together about new babies in their day ('All these new-fangled prams with thermometers and cup holders-you can't beat a good bouncy Silver Cross'/'proper knitted booties are the only way to keep a baby warm not these scrappy little leather things' etc) and the new Mums decide to hand the babies over to their respective 'Granny-figure' for 'photos' (but really to enable them to get a bite to eat!) The Vic is very busy and both Mums are chatting away to friends etc for some time. In the meantime the 'Grannies' continue their chatting and with the odd interruption of people wanting a quick cuddle with the babies, they are every bit as content as a Granny with a baby should be. What they haven't noticed is that on one occasion when they have released the babies from their vice-like grips for cuddles with a couple of the regulars, they baby they take back is the wrong one. No worries viewer, you know the Mothers will come over in a minute and spot the difference with that Mother's eagle-eye.
However, these Dads want to be good Dads. Especially in front of the assembled crowd, and so when said Dads are chatting together & notice the old dears may be on their third glass of Sherry they swoop in, rescue 'their' babies and suggest that they'll take their boys off home (or upstairs in Alfie's case) while the Mums enjoy a well-earned rest/social. By the time the babies wake up for a feed in their darkened rooms, the Mums are tired, go through the motions of feeding, changing and putting back to bed, and head for an early night. By the morning, slightly more alert and in good light both Mothers observe how their babies have 'lost some of that swollen look/filled out a bit (must be making good milk eh?!)', observations backed-up by the midwives who visit that morning and tell the ladies to prepare for the baby to change massively over the next couple of weeks and dangle that oh-so-longed-for carrot of the 'first smile' and so things go on...
This story could have been played out for months or even years with tantalising references to the fact that baby A looks more like Dad B 'Anything you care to confess?!!!' being bandied about in jest until one of the families has a distant relative with a genetic illness. Routine testing of the family could reveal the awful secret...and so could begin the 'Do they swap back?' storyline, the relevance of which has been highlighted by awful IVF mix-ups of recent years.
Okay, so it's convenient, unbelievable and ludicrous, but this is Eastenders, and it would be a rare Eastenders storyline that wouldn't feature a death...
With thousands of complaints ranging from 'She'd definitely know it wasn't her baby' to the more painful reminders which it has envoked in other people who have endured a similarly horrendous loss in their own lives, the storyline has been one of the most controversial and emotional ever shown on a primetime soap. Having not watched it I am unable to comment (you'll be relieved to hear) on the story's relevance, worth or execution but I have nonetheless given it some thought & have quite unintentionally came up with an alternative which would have had the same qualities of shock and human predicament but with a festive-friendly humourous edge, and more importantly a distinct reduction in the all-too-high Borough of Walford death rate...
One thing which I must say about the current storyline (I didn't PROMISE did I?!) though is that I believe it is plausable that some people might not recognise their own baby when it is less than a couple of days old. Babies can be quite swollen, jaundiced and unusually-coloured in the days immediately following their birth. Most have blue eyes and not-much-hair (although my own Son1 had as much hair at birth as I have now but he's another story) and are all pretty much the same size. Son2 looked really butch for the 1st few days-baldy & red-faced (a bit like Phil Mitchell actually) but seemed to turn into a really lollipop-headed soft-looking teddy bear overnight. I'm willing to bet that if anyone glances into their pram & sees a baby in there wearing the same clothes it was wearing when they put it in there they'll not question too deeply any changes that could be attributed simply to washing the crusty bits off in the baby's first bath or the venthouse-head-swell finally subsiding etc. I say this in part, because my alternative story rests it's whole 'case' on the babies looking similar!
Okay, so this is it. I can't decide whether to do this as a script, a bullet-point list or a narrative so you may be in for an uncomfortable mix of the three. Just be relieved it's written at all-if I was saying it to you you'd have to bear with wild, unpredictable hand-gestures accompanying the story so you have something to be grateful for that I live too far away from most of you to put you through that as well.
Okay (again) so Kat and Ronnie have both got new babies. Cute little boys. Ahhh. Born on the same day at roughly the same time in the same places as the original storyline. So far so good. On the same day (1/2 days later) that the real Eastenders show the cot death, my alternative is one of happiness as both Mothers proudly go for a lunchtime drink and lunch (does the QV do lunch? In my one it does!) with their new babies and the head-wetting Dads. They both laugh when they see that (I don't know who?!) has been totally unimaginative in their gift to the babies, giving each identical sleepsuits from the market, which both babies are sporting on their first big day 'out'.
The matriachs that are Mo? (Kat's Nan) and Dot are sat together (I'm not sure if they get on but in that famous-since-Eastenders Eastend way, any differences are set aside for the welcoming of the Square's latest arrivals) and they are reminiscing together about new babies in their day ('All these new-fangled prams with thermometers and cup holders-you can't beat a good bouncy Silver Cross'/'proper knitted booties are the only way to keep a baby warm not these scrappy little leather things' etc) and the new Mums decide to hand the babies over to their respective 'Granny-figure' for 'photos' (but really to enable them to get a bite to eat!) The Vic is very busy and both Mums are chatting away to friends etc for some time. In the meantime the 'Grannies' continue their chatting and with the odd interruption of people wanting a quick cuddle with the babies, they are every bit as content as a Granny with a baby should be. What they haven't noticed is that on one occasion when they have released the babies from their vice-like grips for cuddles with a couple of the regulars, they baby they take back is the wrong one. No worries viewer, you know the Mothers will come over in a minute and spot the difference with that Mother's eagle-eye.
However, these Dads want to be good Dads. Especially in front of the assembled crowd, and so when said Dads are chatting together & notice the old dears may be on their third glass of Sherry they swoop in, rescue 'their' babies and suggest that they'll take their boys off home (or upstairs in Alfie's case) while the Mums enjoy a well-earned rest/social. By the time the babies wake up for a feed in their darkened rooms, the Mums are tired, go through the motions of feeding, changing and putting back to bed, and head for an early night. By the morning, slightly more alert and in good light both Mothers observe how their babies have 'lost some of that swollen look/filled out a bit (must be making good milk eh?!)', observations backed-up by the midwives who visit that morning and tell the ladies to prepare for the baby to change massively over the next couple of weeks and dangle that oh-so-longed-for carrot of the 'first smile' and so things go on...
This story could have been played out for months or even years with tantalising references to the fact that baby A looks more like Dad B 'Anything you care to confess?!!!' being bandied about in jest until one of the families has a distant relative with a genetic illness. Routine testing of the family could reveal the awful secret...and so could begin the 'Do they swap back?' storyline, the relevance of which has been highlighted by awful IVF mix-ups of recent years.
Okay, so it's convenient, unbelievable and ludicrous, but this is Eastenders, and it would be a rare Eastenders storyline that wouldn't feature a death...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)