Hmmm

October gave me one last kick in the ribs when I backed out of our drive only to end up in the side of a neighbour's car as she hurtled past. Only the car didn't belong to her, it belongs to her friend, a mobility car (don't get me started on that subejct!) as well, and apparently she doesn't have a licence. And she kept insisting on giving her friend's name rather than her own (6 years as neighbours and I don't know her name says it all really.) Through other neighbours it is passed on the info about her non-existant licence and well-known reckless driving. Which I guess makes sense if she never sat a licence!

First accident I have ever had and it grinds at me that I have to be made liable because I was reversing. Never mind the fact that there was no way she could have missed seeing me move out of the drive, never mind that she sped past in an effort to get by me despite the fact I was fully out of the drive and...ah what the hell, it doesn't matter. It happened and that is that and at a time when I have been squeezed financially to the point of extinction so the excess is an unwelcome burden.

One thing after another, after another, after another.

So I duly tell my insurance company that I do not have the driver's name but only that of the car owner, I give them all the information I have and they don't seem really bothered. I guess I was wrong in thinking you weren't supposed to drive without insurance or licence.

Tyger Tyger

At Edinburgh Zoo.

During a cheerier week.

Here kittie.

Family History

Eldest Hobbit is studying "When my Gran was a girl..." or "olden days" as he calls it. I scanned a few photos for him to take in, glad that they will have a full history for at least one side of their family. How important knowing your own family tree is I am not sure. Perhaps to have anecdotes to colour in the characters of people you will never know but who you are still attached to through relations. To know what was there before you, where your family came from.

I never knew my maternal grandfather. Yet despite his death when I was only a few months old I look at his kind face in these old photographs and I do feel as though I know him. I've pieced together who he was from stories and memories from other family members, the things he went through during the war and after, his brothers who nearly all died in one battle during the war that went before (which luckily both my grandfathers were only just too young to be sent into but both of them had brothers who went - miraculously all survived although not without scars, one example; my father's uncle returned without sight or hearing and with severe lung problems.)

In fact the Hobbits' own grandfather was in the RAF during WW2 as a teenager seeing things that no teen should see. They will one day be able to place that history with him, they will be able to see him as a young man on a cool motorbike (a motorbike that once nearly wiped out this linage they are part of) and know the background that made him into the Grandpa they love.

I have the photographs, I will pass them on. And the stories will go on to another generation.

When I Grow Up I Want To Be...Part 2 With Photos

A Day At The Museum

Forging ahead in my attempt to keep the Hobbits happy with as normal a life as possible under these circumstances I took them on a trip to the Royal Museum in Edinburgh.

A long time favourite there is enough in there, and the attached Museum of Scotland, to keep them busy for hours. Even if they are not yet tall enough for their feet to reach the peddles so they can have a go on the racing car. (Eldest Hobbit: But Mummy *brother* can do the peddles and I'll steer!)

And a good day was had by all without a shadow cast over us by evil-X as he will from now on be known. (Him to me: Technically we are still married. Me to him: Yes, technically, that is all.)

Also planned for this week, the October holidays, are a trip to the zoo (because Mummy wants to see the Koalas dammit!) and a trip to Glasgow to satisfy the Hobbits' desire to go on the underground aka the Clockwork Orange. Normal life is resuming no matter what evil-X tries.

The Sweetest Sting

I knew I wasn't going to get through this week without hurting myself. The first sign was a couple of days ago when for the first time in my life I managed to set fire to the frying pan, I was cooking some mushrooms, not flambe unfortunately. Was it luck or stupidity that the cooker is near enough the back door for me to pick up the flaming pan and throw it unceremoniously into the garden. Bet that frightened the local birds who are more used to offerings of crumbs than that. I am well aware of what you are supposed to do in those situations however knowledge is nothing when faced with flames, thinking was not an option!

After that little fiasco, which has left me without a frying pan, not such a bad thing after all, I went through a succession of little accidents. None of which caused much more than an annoyance at my resemblance to Norman Wisdom at times. Elegant I ain't.

Until today. When I decided to enjoy the sunshine of an October day with a trip to the local country park, Muiravonside. Now at this park, lining the river Avon (you would never have guessed that, hmm?) is what the Hobbits call the "Troll Bridge." A little wooden bridge leading over a stream that feeds into the larger river. After visiting the farm, Hobbits delighting in the fact that every time we go the huge Tamworth pigs are always sleeping and snoring, we took a walk down to the Troll Bridge.

Once safely across, no trolls having shown their faces, we decided to continue the walk so the Hobbits could try out their wellies in the river. Only it turns out that a little boy had stood on a wasps nests. Picture three adults, four children aged between 3ish and 9ish and one small Spaniel dog running and flapping as the wasps enjoyed a stinging frenzy. Poor youngest Hobbit came off worse of our family, although it was more the thought that was terrifying him, wasps clung to his clothes. Eldest Hobbit wasn't stung once. Something he proceeded to tell everyone he met on the rest of the walk and at the play park we eventually ended up in.

While picking them off youngest Hobbits clothes I felt a pain on my calf, looked down and sure enough one of the little f***ers was stinging away.

Of the other family only the little boy (the one who was about 3ish) wasn't stung, and he was the one who had started it off in the first place! He looked fairly bemused at his parents hopping around picking wasps off his elder brother and sister and their dog who seemed to be the wasps' favourite.

The rest of the day went well though. But my leg is agony, little bugger packed a decent sting.

On The Upside Though

I got my OU coursework.

I went to the tutorial at Napier University on Saturday (having to leave the Hobbits in daddy and the girlfriends care again but that is another story.)

I have no doubt that I am in no way as good as any of the others who attended but I will try my best. Really made a prize fool of myself by not reading out what I had written because I was so embarrassed. The others must have wondered why I bothered going if I wasn't going to enter into the spirit of things wholeheartedly. But they are a nice group of people so said nothing.

So the week wasn't a complete disaster.

There is a postal strike, seems to be going on forever and I am sure the only people to suffer will be those of us waiting for important documents. Wait, wasn't I in this exact same position in July? Ah, good old posties.

This week will be for recovering and for sending the scribblings I was to ashamed to read out in class to the tutor under the proviso of a dummy eTMA. See what he thinks of them.

(Annoyingly I made another grand prat of myself by saying I did not like reading "Chic-lit." I only said that to generalise about what I wasn't too keen on but had a couple of the other women in the group act like I said the books should be burned. One stated she liked Marian Keyes, who I don't consider chic-lit. I must remember that next time I am faced with that I should grow a backbone and explain that I mean the London-set, professional female character who aims for nothing higher than shoes and a love affair kind. And I should state why I don't like them. But I hate speaking out. The whole world will one day figure me out as an idiot.)

History Repeating Itself

Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday.

Now lets see, how did his grand job go? Well poor youngest hobbit was sick again, all over dear daddy's car and no I did not pay him to do so. Rather than phone me, at which point I would have turned back because regardless for my wish to change the situation my sons come first, he tries to send the poor lad into school covered in sick!

Luckily the deputy head persuaded him to take youngest hobbit with him. But of course, dear daddy counts on things going exactly to plan. Not for him the chaos of children or ever changing plans. He needs to go to work and nothing will stop him. So he takes youngest hobbit over to the new-girlfriend-who-wasn't-but-is in their house. Now it isn't so much that he has a girlfriend I am bothered about, or that they moved in together so quickly (plus the whole story of her living with her boyfriend who he worked with which turns out to be half truth.) It is the fact I know nothing about her. Yet he leaves youngest hobbit in her care.

And she takes him to the park and subsequently he gets ill again so she then carries him back home throwing her back out in the process. (Yet she is well enough to once again tag along on Saturday when he has the boys for a few hours.) Oh this just gets better.

He is angry at me because youngest Hobbit got sick. I am angry at him that the one time since they were born that I ask him to do something he f*cks it up so grandly that he feels the need to blame me - as usual. He is also angry that his new girlfriend is injured, saying I should buy her a box of chocolates for her troubles. Well sometimes it is a wonder that he doesn't get a smack in the face for his comments yet I am so used to it. They are a real eye-opener for me now that I can view them from outside the marriage.

The more important thing is, youngest Hobbit remained off school for the rest of the week, diagnosed by the doctor as having gastroenteritis, eldest Hobbit got off much lighter but was off at the end of the week. Both are fine and back at school today. And I got the job. And I don't really want it so now I feel guilty.

A life less complicated please.

Tuesday

Tuesday, the day the ex has to prove himself by taking over a little of the childcare I have done on my own, completely on my own since he left. The day I have to prove myself to a panel of esteemed professionals (DON'T snigger) that I am worth considering. The day where I take a step back into the world of working and all that it entails.

I should be glad the triple score of bad luck is over, right? I can't help that I am turning into Private Frazer.

So This Thing About Bad Luck

It comes in threes, right?

As this morning started with a flat tyre can we say that the hatrick has been achieved and get on with it?

Please.

Because I am bone weary, truly worn out, I have found where the end of my tether is.

And one more thing going tits up will have me crawling under my duvet and staying put. Hibernation is highly under-rated. This from someone who enjoys the snap of cold in the morning and the crispness in the air, the icing of frost on the ground and foliage.

Big sigh. Here comes the weekend.

Still don't have my OU stuff although they seem to have sorted out the registration forms and I know when my materials will be posted for my course beginning in February. Not much good for the one starting, oh let me see, yes that would be TODAY.

Sometimes I have a hard time believing that it isn't me. That this happens to everyone. But it doesn't does it? I am sliding into the theme of my other blog here so I better change tact.

If I think good thoughts then good things will happen. Give me a bloody break, fate or destiny or whatever dishes this out.

Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life

Even when the days seem like an endless struggle there is always something to make one smile.

Keep saying that until I believe it...

OU Oh No For Definite This Time

So in a few days time my next OU course begins.

I haven't had any coursework, I haven't had any acknowledgement of starting the course although it shows on my student homepage. I have emailed the OU in Edinburgh and it sounds as though they are having major problems at the moment.

I handed in the forms for this course and my next course (due to start in February) several weeks ago. Both showed on my homepage with the later course stating that I hadn't sent in my registration. An email from the OU today stated that it would be sorted out.

Now the later course has disappeared from my homepage.

Oh hell.

Another email duly sent. This doesn't look good for the start of my new course if I am going to have no time to prepare. I really didn't need this just now.

The Kissy Girl

Youngest Hobbit is having the time of his life in his new school year. Which is a relief considering events of recent months.

Every day, on our way home, we discuss what they did at school this year. Normally I get stories of playtime and lunchtime and occasionally tales of playing in class (I am positive they are being taught, they can read and write quite well for their age!) The other day youngest Hobbit entertained his brother and I with his encounter with The Kissy Girl.

Youngest Hobbit -"E**** is The Kissy Girl!"
Me -"Really, which E**** and why is she The Kissy Girl?"
(There are 4 girls with this name in the Hobbits classes alone, this E**** is pointed out the next day, a very pretty girl, blonde curls.)
Youngest Hobbit - "She was catching us and giving us kisses. She caught M***** all the time!"
Me - "Right, so did she catch you?"
Youngest Hobbit, proudly - "No I ran fast."

He will learn, as M***** obviously has, not to run too fast from the pretty girls. And then today the end of The Kissy Girl was announced.

"Mrs B**** said E**** wasn't to kiss us anymore because it was annoying."

Ah well.

A Word To Employers

Out of politeness wouldn't it be nice to acknowledge all applicants for vacancies? Even just an eency weency email fired off to let the person know they had been unsuccessful?

Would it be too much?

Truth

You see, once you pull off a sticky plaster it only hurts for a while. Then you get over it.

So West Lothian has this weird set up where there is no school on Friday afternoons. Certainly makes looking for a job interesting anyway. This means, of course, that after a quick morning the rest of the day is ours.

And with recent events in mind I decided that perhaps making an event of Friday afternoons would be a good idea. Sometimes in the past when the sun is shining okay, if it isn't raining...heavily...we have gone for lunch and then a walk along the harbour at South Queensferry watching the little sightseeing ferries and yachts sailing on the forth. Situated between the two bridges it is a lovely little town, or at least that part is, I have heard certain areas are a bit rough but lets not ruin the fantasy!

I should make a list of local places to visit, there are plenty we can get into free with our Historic Scotland pass. Including Blackness Castle where this photo was taken. The boys love the castle which is very unusual in that despite the name it was actually a prison amongst other things. Again Blackness is a lovely little village but I haven't heard if there are any "rough" areas there! I don't think there are enough houses to have a rough area.

Do people who live near the sea or large areas of water realise how lucky they are?

When I Grow Up I Want To Be...

This is not going to be a post all about how we have grown and learned through this peculiar summer, although we have. Instead I have been wondering, as I am oft to do, about the future, what the future holds and for myself in particular, what I thought the future would hold.

And we were watching Child Of Our Time, which featured a small part on what the children (now 7) wanted to be when they grew up. Naturally I turned to my own two, or rather shuffled around as we were all sprawled across the sofa, lazy as we are. I posed the question, one which has always, up until now, resulted in the same answers.

Eldest Hobbit - Pilot
Youngest Hobbit - Spaceman

Now whether or not they were influenced by watching the programme full of older children (well nearly two years older anyway) doing interesting things I don't know but this time we had a variation on the theme. Eldest Hobbit has not changed his plans, he will he states "fly all the planes in the world." Which should take a while, but now he has added to that. He now also would like to be "boss of the school like Mr. Simpson." So pilot and Headteacher of a primary school, well, he won't be bored for sure.

Youngest Hobbit however gave a great deal of thought, then decided he would like to "fix things." What kind of things I asked. "Important things," he said mysteriously without venturing further explanation. As you wish.

I never wanted to be one of those mothers who were overly ambitious for their children. I just want them to do what they are happy in doing and will encourage them and support them the best I can. For I know that without encouragement, without a belief that they will accomplish things they will not reach their full potential and spend the rest of their lives regreting decisions made because no one expected them to do anything of any great worth.

I know of what I speak. I know what it is like to have people expect you to fail. And with that lack of support you succeed their low expections of you. It is such a waste of life.

The End Of Summer

And so the countdown to return to school begins (next Tuesday - hooray!) The most difficult summer ever is soon going to be officially over and we have come through it somewhat intact. Of course life is never that easy or straightforward but yet there it is, we have survived.

Having spent the time rushing from here to there with the Hobbits in tow, trying to entertain them while getting all the necessary things done I can say I now need a holiday. But what I need more is work, and it will happen. I had never expected that this would be my position at the grand old age of 35 1/2 but there you go, you never can tell.

A woman from East Kilbride won £35million on the EuroMillions, now wouldn't that be nice and handy to have. Good on her, I hope she has fun spending it.

We apologise for this break in service...

Normal service shall resume shortly.

It isn't the summer holidays that have scuppered this blog. It is the husband leaving the family.

Life sometimes doesn't work out the way you wish and painful as it is for the sake of two little boys who didn't deserve this I have to carry on alone.

Nemo RIP

I had been aware that all was not well for some time, the fish called Nemo (with the fine looking fins to the left) has passed away. After only 2 1/2 years as well, my childhood fishy friends lasted 9 years. I think it may have been the stress of living with a fat, cat with attitude and a tendency to sleep nearby the tank.

Well, Nemo lasted longer than the other fish, Dory (do you see where the naming was going there? We have a dog named Alex due to the Madagascar film, this is what happens when you let Hobbits name animals.) Dory was a bit of a bully, always chasing Nemo around the tank, until one morning we entered the living room to find Dory floating belly up. Nemo was very cheery that day.

Now the other day we had gone to the local pet superstore to look at the rabbits. I have promised that when the Hobbits are old enough they may have either a rabbit or a guinea pig each. I am hoping they will want guinea pigs as fond memories of Brownie, my own guinea pig, and the torture he put my mother through has me favour the pig to the bunny! Brownie was a lovable little chap, all squeaks and cuddles but my mother hated him.

While I gave Nemo the grand send off and youngest Hobbit pondered life and death and all the grand schemes of things I noted that eldest Hobbit was eyeing the tank. Possibly wondering if a rabbit would fit. I give it one day before I am asked about replacing Nemo with something furry.