keris stainton

Meme Week!

Did you remember it was Meme Week this week? Have you all been waiting with bated breath? No?

Okay, this one I nicked from Kate.

One word only answers:

1. Where is your cell phone? Desk
2. Describe your boyfriend/girlfriend? Funny
3. Your hair? Brown
4. Your mother? Deceased
5. Your father? Crackers
6. Your favourite item? Computer
7. Your dream last night? Train
8. Your favourite drink? Wine
9. Your dream car? Classic
10. The room you are in? Office
11. Your ex? Nope
12. Your fear? Death
13. What do you want to be in 10 years? Canada
14. Who did you hang out with last night? David
15. What you're not? Tall
19. The last thing you did? Shop
20. What are you wearing? Pink
22. Your favourite book? Mine
23. The last thing you ate? Chocolate
24. Your life? Lovely
25. Your mood? Ebullient
26. Your friends? Scattered
27. What are you thinking about right now? Dinner
28. Your car? Noddy
29. What are you doing at the moment? This
30. Your summer? Anticipated
31. Your relationship status? Hitched
32. What is on your TV? Dust
33. When is the last time you laughed? 32
34. Last time you cried? Earlier
35. School? Over!

Not going to tag anyone - if you want to do it, do it!

Books that make me go "Oooh..."

I don't write about books here as much now that I've got Trashionista, but lately I've noticed a cover trend that I LOVE and discovered a book that gave me butterflies, so I thought I'd share.

Broken Biscuits by Liz Kettle. Could the cover be any more perfect? And how much do I now want my name printed on a biscuit?

I read and loved Jerry Spinelli's Stargirl, but I haven't been inspired to read another of his/her (must check!) books until this one.

It's the simplicity, isn't it? Plain background + simple centred picture = Instant Love!

I absolutely would pick this book up because of the cover (how I didn't know until last week that nostalgia is my thing is a mystery to me!) but then I'd read the blurb:

"Summer at Tiffany" is a memoir of the summer of 1945, when Marjorie Jacobson and her best friend Marty traveled from the University of Iowa to New York City, hoping to land sales jobs.

Turned away from the top department stores, they made their way to 57th Street where refusing to be deterred, Marty lead Marjorie into the legendary Tiffany store, and somehow these best friends talked their way into positions as pages-the first women to ever work on the sales floor.

Their workdays found the girls dazzled by the likes of honeymooners Judy Garland and Vincent Minnelli, Marlene Dietrich in her USO uniform, and legendary playboy Jimmy Donohue. They delivered and modeled priceless jewels, nearly lost precious pearls, and encountered Old Man Tiffany himself during a rare visit.

In between getting lost in Harlem (& rescued by police!), witnessing the Eisenhower Parade, VJ Day in Times Square, and mingling with the Cafe Society-Marjorie Heart fell in love, learned lessons and made decisions that would impact the rest of her life, and leave her nostalgic for that one unforgettable "Summer at Tiffany".

New York. The forties. Tiffany. Judy Garland. Glamour! This is the kind of book I become obsessed with and can't rest until I've read it...

Kiss the cook!

Remember I said I was going to try and do more cooking? Well, I have. I've cooked dinner twice this very week, in fact.

The first thing I cooked for myself because David was out: Halibut in green tea broth from Body+Soul magazine. Because I'm a doofus, I'd bought haddock instead of halibut and I didn't have any quinoa either (I knew I didn't, but thought I had cous cous, but I didn't have that either, so I had it with noodles). Edamame are, I believe, soy beans and Birds Eye does a frozen bag. Snow peas are, I think, sugar snap peas (either that or mange tout) - didn't have those either, so I used garden peas. But apart from all that (phew!) it was just like the picture... and it was delicious!

Then, night before last, I made this for me and D and it was wonderful. D thought it was a little dry so if I was to make it again, I'd probably add the juice of the lemon instead of just the zest, but I'd highly recommend it all the same.

Stuff

Have I mentioned that David's parents are away this week and so I haven't had my two working days? Means I have to fit my work in around Harry, which is rather stressful and so I haven't been able to think of anything to write about today so here's the best scene from one of the best bad films of the 80s instead:

Also, I've pinched a couple of memes and been tagged for another, so I thought I'd make next week Meme Week so if anyone's got a meme lying around, send it my way! Thanks! And I'll finally finish my 25 TV Hubbas on Tuesday and then I've got a new weekly deely to do. There!

America's Next Top Model Finale

Lumme, it was the final. I always forget they go from three to one, rather than two to one. I can’t believe Eugena’s made it to the final three. Bo-ring! God, Melrose is so annoying, but she’s worked really hard throughout. I finally worked out thanks to Ugly Betty that Caridee looks just like Rebecca Romijn. And, yes, I know the judges have said it more than once, but it didn’t penetrate my brain...

Oh in the recaps they showed Caridee’s “insult” to Nigel “Woof!” Barker and it was quite funny actually. And how could he respond to a joke about having a stick up his ass in such a stick-up-his-ass way? Berk.

A Cover Girl lip ... shine (I think) advert first. Last cycle winner Danielle (now Dani) turned up. She looked rough, old and her diction hadn’t improved.

They’re still bitching at each other. Eugena doesn’t want Melrose to be in the final two because she tries to be too perfect. Melrose says she’s never heard Eugena say she wants it.

Tyra Mail: Only two will continue on...

At panel, how hobbit-like were the fashion designers Victorio & Luccino?

Eugena’s cover girl photo was absolutely beautiful. The judges were worried Eugena had no personality, but that Caridee had too much. They loved Melrose’s passion.

Caridee went through and the faces on Melrose and Eugena were fantastic. Eugena looked blank, Melrose looked llike she was vibrating.

Then Melrose went through and did a great fake cry thing and Caridee huffed her disappointment. Eugena and Caridee hugged tightly and Melrose did this really embarrassing latch on thing, her arms around their waists, while they both ignored her. Caridee whispered to Eugena, “I’ll win this for you, baby, I promise.” Gah.

Tyra Mail: Not every couch is a casting couch. It’s time to pick your brains and see if you have what it takes to be America’s Next Top Model.

Tyra had brought in Dr Michelle, a life coach, to see if the girls were healthy and happy. You’ve got to admire Tyra. She’s really all bull, all the way, isn’t she.

The girls did their final runway show at Park Guell, which me and D went to years ago and it’s fabulous. The theme was “ghost brides” and Dani was there too. Tyra gave them some last minute coaching (and harrassed a couple of small children).

It looked amazing and must have been an incredible thing to take part in. Caridee was just walking, rather than “doing” a walk, but she looked great. So did Melrose. When Caridee stepped on Melrose’s dress and ripped it, Melrose lost it, crying, saying “Cari ripped the dress, she ripped the f***ing dress” as if Caridee had done it on purpose and as if Melrose thought that might actually swing things in her favour. The loon.

For the penultimate walk they had to scream and be crazy, which frankly neither of them were going to have much problem with. In fact they did it a lot better than the real models who seemed a bit subdued to me.

Judging again. They much preferred Melrose’s runway and you could see Melrose getting smug. Then they went through a lot of the photos from previous episodes. Tyra asked them what the competition meant to them and Caridee blethered about her psoriasis again and Melrose didn’t say much at all except that she was happy to be there.

Announcing the winner always seems like an anti-climax after the over-the-topness of previous episodes - it was Caridee.* She completely lost it, while Melrose looked pissed off, managed to squeeze out a couple of tears and then interviewed that “no-one liked me and they called me a bitch and I don’t know what more I could’ve done...” Diddums.

Over the final photos Caridee mentioned her psoriasis twice in 30 seconds. Okay, we get it. Caridee’s final photograph with Tyra was gorgeous (above - although Tyra looks a lot slimmer on the pic than she did posing for it ... hmm?). I’m glad Caridee won. I liked her all along and she was certainly the most beautiful and seemed relatively down to earth, but it was a pretty poor haul this cycle.

After seeing next cycle’s “murder” photoshoot in the Guardian, I’ve decided to boycott it (also, it’s really rubbish) so that was the last ANTM update ... perhaps forever (mwa-ha-ha!).

* (Hey, Maureen, I remember you saying the girl you liked didn’t win - who’d you like?)

Joyful Nostalgia!

You thought I'd forgotten, didn't you? Well, no. (And I haven't seen last night's ANTM finale - it's on tape.)

I love this "Pucci-esque printed pachyderm" from A+R Store. Sadly, it costs $60, which is beyond what I'd pay for a terry-towelling elephant, even with the weak dollar...

Wha the...?

I've spent the last 45 minutes googling Britney Spears for the next What Would Britney Do? piece I'm writing for DollyMix and I spotted this on E!

The ads read:

She's a bombshell with a brain for business and the heart of a devoted mom.

He's every woman's fantasy - a chart-topping megastar and family man.

Ridiculously, fabulously, famously in love.

Every woman's fantasy? Megastar? You could do them under the Trade Descriptions Act, surely?

America's Next Top Model

I missed ANTM again last week. I set the video, but not only did it not tape, the satellite had switched itself to channel 999 ("Help! No more Top Model, please!").

I believe the other twin went home because I saw an advert for tonight's (and because I read on Ms Mac's blog who was in the final three).

So instead, here's a couple of pics of former ANTM contestants that I found when flicking through the numerous US magazines I've downloaded from Zinio.

Doesn't Kim look lovely? She was in Seventeen. And Danielle was in Elle (grown-up Elle, not Elle Girl).

Fun with biscuits

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that Harry’s lost all interest in food. Except Rice Krispies, bananas, toast and all forms of chocolate, biscuits or cake. Or any food on anyone else’s plate. Especially mine. If I sit down next to him and we’ve both got toast,  he takes my toast. Then if I take his as a replacement, he wants that, so we end up exchanging slices every bite.

A few days ago I was eating a Digestive and Harry ran over, snatched it and ran across the room, cackling. Pretending to be annoyed, I stomped over, took the biscuit, sat back down and just as I was about to take a (fake) bite, Harry snatched it and ran off again. We did this for a good 10 minutes and Harry was absolutely beside himself, in hysterics.

Yesterday, I gave Harry a Digestive and I sat down to read a book. A few minutes later, Harry showed me the biscuit. “Yes,” I said. “That’s Harry’s biscuit.” A few more minutes passed and then he put his biscuit down on the table next to me, paused for a second, then picked it up and ran off, cackling. I had to take my biscuit back, stomp across the room, take a bite, and wait for him to nick it again. Hours of fun. I do love that he knows it’s a game and he knows he’s teasing me and that I’m not really annoyed with him.

Me and D have noticed lately that if we sound like we’re arguing - and we often sound like we’re arguing even if we’re not because we’re always taking the piss out of each other - then Harry gets upset. It’s really interesting noticing him learning emotions and sensitivities to other people.

Gormless Dorky

This may shock you, but I don't actually know myself very well. Despite the fact that I spent the majority of my waking hours thinking about myself, writing about myself or thinking about writing about myself, I'm still a mystery to me. Partly that's because my stupid brain never shuts up long enough to give me a minute's peace. And partly it's because although I know what I like, I've never really thought about why I like it.

A while ago, thanks to Karen Salmansohn, I discovered Carrie & Danielle. They run a company helping people discover their "style statements" - two words that define who you are. The first word is your essence (80%) and the second word is your unique twist (20%).

It is a compass for designing a life that reflects your best self. From your wisdom to your wardrobe; from your longings to your living room, your business plan, your finances, and the parties you throw--your Style Statement is where your essence meets your expression.

Examples: Elegant Creative, Graceful Innovative, Classic Vitality, Cultivated Magic, Timeless Play

I thought I could do with a style statement of my own, but they cost CAN$500 so I decided to work it out for myself. In order to work out your style statement Carrie and Danielle ask a series of questions, some of which I found on their website. Things like

What’s your favourite colour?
What’s your favourite flower?
What outfit do you feel most comfortable in?
What would you wear to the Academy Awards?
What would you do with a million dollars?
What objects do you collect?
Where do you feel most at home?
Describe your perfect day.
If Annie Leibovitz was to take your photo, and you were in charge of art direction, what would the photo look like?

And, most importantly, why?

I knew that I wanted my first word to be "Joyful" because it's important for me and I'm constantly striving to live my life with joy (and most of the time I feel like I'm succeeding) but the second word eluded me. 

My favourite flower is lavender. Why? Because I like the smell and the colour and it reminds me of my nan. What objects do I collect? Enid Blyton books. Because they remind me of my childhood. Favourite outfit? Seventies style top. Do you see a pattern? I did. Nostalgia. And as soon as I thought of it, it felt right. Joyful Nostalgia.

I'd already made a collage of images I liked to help me work out my style statement and I think it fits perfectly:

I told David about it. He laughed (of course) so I said, "What one word would you use to describe me then?" He said, "Cute." But I'm too old for "cute", I'm going to be 36. Cute! But then on someone's blog (I'm sorry, I can't remember who it was), I saw a link to a HGTV What's Your Style quiz. I filled it in and I was happy with the result:

Nothing stark and modern for you! You're drawn to cozy interiors and a welcoming palette (think soft, sun-bleached  hues). You like our patterns whimsical and your buildings quaint. You enjoy heirlooms with sentimental value, like a rocker that once graced your grandmother's nursery.

Absolutely true. And the style described? "Sweet." Is sweet better than cute? I'm not sure. Anyway, I'm sticking with Joyful Nostalgia and, as such, I've created a new category so I can stick things in there when I find them and perhaps get to know myself a little better in the process...

What the...?

Okay. I've  literally just got out of bed and I had to come and write this down because last night I had the World's Maddest Dreams!

My in-laws paper "boy" is about 30 and is a bit odd. Let's call him Nick. I dreamt David wanted trombone lessons and discovered that Nick was a great trombonist. Nick agreed to give David lessons and they were hashing out the terms (£2 per lesson, 2 lessons a week, 77 lessons required) when David, who was shirtless, lifted his arm and Nick licked his armpit. The negotiations broke down.

I was incubating hundreds of tiny bright red ducklings in a radiator.

I was "dating" Seamus from Any Dream Will Do, but he was living on my dad's roof with his brother. My parents' neighbour who I haven't seen for years, came round to check him out then emailed me to tell me he was a "hottie".

I had befriended a load of animals who seemed to be living in a giant cage in my in-laws garden. I would go outside to chat to a tiny black (talking) pig and a (talking) chicken who would sit on my head and dangle upside down to look me in the face.

What the hell did I eat last night?

Boom de de boom boom

In the comments to the last post, Diane wrote: "The gasman?? fiats?? eagles?? We sang one about "Cross over the road my friend, ask the Lord his strength to lend, his compassion has no end, cross over the road..." Ah, those were the days."

We sang Cross Over the Road too. It was one of my favourites, I think. (And what was the one about cherubim and seraphim...?) but of course, I then had to google the others. (What - no, really, what? - did we ever do without Google?)

First of all - it is beaver! (Maureen, do you know this one? It's Canadian!)

Land of the silver birch, home of the beaver
Where still the mighty moose wanders at will
Blue lake and rocky shore
I will return once more.*

Boom de de boom boom
Boom de de boom boom
Boom de de boom boom
Bo-o-o-o-m

[Lyrics from here where you can also hear the tune]

*This is kind of weird for me since I am Canadian and am hoping to return, but I doubt it meant much to me when I was 7...

Our headmaster, Mr Martin, used to play the guitar and particularly enjoyed the following two (neither of which I can find online, so you'll have to trust my memory):

Wrapped in swaddling clothes, the baby's lying
In his mother's arms, there'll be no crying
Shepherd's from afar, they do come [nigh?] him
Rocky Road-um, heyyy, a Rocky Road-um.

Rocky Rocky Road, a Rocky Road-um
Rocky Rocky Road, a Rocky Road-um
Rocky Rocky Road, a Rocky Road-um
Rocky Road-um, heyyy, a Rocky Road-um.

We really got into those Rocky Rocky Roads, as I'm sure you can imagine, and my sister's just reminded me that we used to do a Fonz-style thumbs up to the "heyyy" bits.

Now this one's just weird:

Bom bom bom bom bom ba-dom bom
Christ is the Lord of the smallest atom
Christ is the Lord of outer space
Christ is the Lord of [something or other]
Christ is the Lord of the human race.

I wasn't sure about the rest because it sounded too mad, but my sister remembers it even better than me (despite being two years younger, what's that about?):

From the greatest star to the coffee bar
and the length of the Berlin Wall
From the Village Green to the Asian Scene
Christ is the Lord of all. 

Modern hymns, eh? Give me To Be A Pilgrim any day. Ugh, I'll be singing that all day now. Everybody! He who would valiant be, 'gainst all disaster...

Brave Topolini, vroom, vroom, va-ra!

I've probably mentioned before that I absolutely love the classic Fiat 500. I was reminded that there's a new version coming out later this year so I had a google around and now, well, I'm a happy blogger... (And I'm feeling much better, thanks. Still not 100%, but better than yesterday.)

I've loved Fiat 500s since we sang a song about them at school. I always remembered it as Hey, Topolini, vroom, vroom, va-ra!, but I've just found the lyrics (which will follow, cos they're fab) and it's Brave Topolini. They're just so cute and happy-looking and also, despite their tiny size, glamorous - look! Loving the yellow pantsuit.

Plus I discovered the Fiat 500 station wagon years ago and I so desperately want one ... but I think they're pretty rare.

So are the new ones as cute? Carry on over the cut to find out (and for the Brave Topolini lyrics).

What fresh hell is this?

Eyes much better. Computer (almost)-free weekend a great success. Except ... took Harry to roll pace eggs (a week late). Slipped on dewy grass. Banged head on ground. Have headache and sore neck and ribs*. Can you get whiplash from falling down a hill?

Normal service, etc., tomorrow. Hopefully.

*Sore ribs may be from ill-advised Sun Salutation. When I let myself go, I really let myself go...

Screen break

After a pretty full-on week this week, I've noticed my eyeballs vibrating. Now, I'm no doctor, but I don't think that can be good.

So I'm going to attempt a computer-free weekend. I probably won't manage it (can't resist those pesky emails) but I'll give it a go. So have a lovely weekend everyone! Enjoy the weather!

P.S. Thanks for your comments on my previous post. I'll come back to it next week. Assuming my eyes haven't fallen out of my head.

Honouring yourself

Partly because I’m a self-help junkie and partly because I’m writing a column about being a self-help junkie for DollyMix, I listened to a podcast by Paula Langguth Ryan. It’s about abundance, prosperity and healing your relationship with money which, as I’ve written before, I really need to do.

I’m not going to go into it in great length (I’ve got a column to write, people!), but one thing she said really (in life coach speak) resonated with me.

People get into debt because they owe themselves so much, because they’re not honouring themselves.

I absolutely accept that. I’ve been coming to realise more and more the connections between how I feel about myself, money, weight (money and weight are very similar actually - it’s amazing when you read about weight loss and debt how often the same issues come up).

The problem I have is that I have no idea how to go about honouring myself. Like a lot of women, it’s all I can do to get showered and dressed, get my work done and still have time to relax and have fun with my family. Where does the honouring fit in and how do I do it?

(Gabrielle, I’m thinking you’ll have something inspirational to say... Ha! That’s put you on the spot!)

America's Next Top Model

The girls made a booty call to one of the male models from last week. Caridee got hot and heavy with one of them on the balcony. Don’t worry, her boyfriend will never find out.

Tyra turned up to talk to them about the harsh realities of the modelling industry. Yawn. Tyra asked what was the worst thing they’d heard in the judging room. Um, why? Just to rub salt in the wounds? No, to make them strong. Eugena sucked up to Tyra, saying that her worst comment was when Tyra said she was disappointed in her, because they sure don’t want to disappoint Tyra. “I want you to be intelligent,” Tyra said. Good luck with that. She really annoyed me, Tyra. When she does her I’m here for you, I’m all about you, Think of me as your mother shtick, it gets right on my bits.

Tyra Mail: Something about who will go and who will stay.

The go-sees! They had to go and, um, see a bunch of designers and would be judged on appearance, portfolios, runway walk and ... something else that I missed. I doubt it was intelligence. And they had to be back at the agency at 6pm “and that is the most important rule,” Melrose said. So we know someone’s not going to make it. There’s always someone who doesn’t make it. You’d think they’d learn, no? Caridee and Eugena teamed up and Michelle and Amanda went together - it was a bit weird, because they’ve always gone on go-sees alone in previous cycles I’ve seen. Melrose went alone of course.

Melrose, Caridee and Eugena all got back at five to six. It took Michelle and Amanda an hour to find the first designer, so it was no surprise when they were both late and got disqualified. Melrose won the challenge and, as annoying as she is, she probably deserved it. She picked Caridee to share it with her and they got to have dinner catered by a personal chef. Eugena was glad she didn’t win because the fish smelled fishy and she wouldn’t have wanted to eat it. Particularly with sour grapes.

Baby names

You know things are bad when you find yourself googling around the internet trying to find out what Mel B's named her baby ... but then it all turns out fine when you discover Celebrity Baby Names blog and learn that someone called Penn Jillette and his wife Emily Zolten, last year named their daughter Moxie Crimefighter.

Moxie Crimefighter

Let's all take a moment, shall we?

Moxie Crimefighter

Do you know, it's stuff like this that makes me glad to be alive.

11 years of marriage...

Me: So we'll get dressed, have some breakfast, go to the park and see the animals and then go and get some lunch ... what do you think of that plan?

David: What plan?

*

Me: There was an interesting thing in this parrot book...

David: Oh god.

Me: Well excuse me for trying to start a conversation!

David: I didn't mean to say that out loud.

Blatant self-promotion

I'm reviewing Any Dream Will Do over at TV Scoop. You can read this week's here and there's a link to last week's at the end. I've also reviewed Grease Is the Word. I hated it.

I'm also writing a column or three for the new Shiny women's site, DollyMix. Read about Alanis's Humps here and why I love Roseanne here.

The Dales

Snippet of a conversation with my sister about Ugly Betty:

Me: I don't understand what's going on with Caleb ... no, not Caleb, that was his name in The O.C. Daniel's father...

Sister: Jim Robinson.

Which got me thinking about Mr Alan Dale (for that is his name) and remembering that when he made a guest appearance in ER and I saw his name on the credits, I was expecting Jim Dale, star of Carry On films and Pete's Dragon.

My mind is a weird and wonderful place, don't you think?

Besotted

I think you may have noticed by now that me and my husb' are pretty besotted with our almost-3-year-old son. Yesterday we went to Ambleside for the day and took about 60 pictures. 56 of them of Harry (1 was of Harry with me, 1 of David with Harry and the other two were of flowers ... I'm always taking pictures of flowers, which I end up deleting because my camera's not good enough to do them justice). Anyway. I made a little slide show. A couple of the pics don't fit on properly, but I loved the View-Master style...

Free MySpace slideshows, photo and video editing at onetruemedia.com

America's Next Top Model

So it was Anchal who went home last week? Oh well, she won’t be missed.

Tyra Mail: You think I act the fool? Wait til you meet my girls.

Oh god, it’s the acting episode. I HATE the acting shows. So embarrassing. Some woman - Tasha? - friend of Tyra’s and acting teacher told the girls they had to be silly ugly. And then they had to dump out everything they were feeling - “if you want to cry, cry, but whatever it is, feel it.” So they all cried and ranted and the other girls looked depressed. Except when Melrose did it - they looked scared. I was scared. Eugena said, “I think Melrose is bipolar.”

And, guess what? Jaeda cried about her hair. Her friggin’ hair! Get. Over. It. Jeez. Jaeda lost it to the point where Tasha had to comfort her. Even Caridee cried, but I didn’t believe it and then ... she said she’d tried killing herself. Puts your stupid boy-hair into perspective, eh, Jaeda? Tasha looked afraid, presumably thinking she didn’t sign on for any real emotion, and Melrose seemed genuinely upset by the whole thing. This show just keeps more twisted.

Once Caridee had recovered, they filmed their own silent movie and the winner got a guest spot on One Tree Hill. Is that still going? They had to drink prune juice and Michelle’s keppt coming back, which was rather delightful.

Blame the mother

One of my freelance jobs is to find news stories for a parenting website. I've been doing it for just over a month and do you know what I've learned? Mothers are to blame. For everything.

During pregnancy, depression causes premature birth and obesity leads to diabetes, high blood pressure, pre-eclampsia, emergency caesareans, wound infections and blood clots. And you mustn't drink because "even very small amounts of alcohol could result in foetal alcohol syndrome, which may cause low birth weight, short stature, flattened features, heart and kidney abnormalities, deafness and brain damage leading to poor hand-to-eye co-ordination and behavioural difficulties". Oh and if you eat beef you're risking damaging the future fertility of your unborn son (but only if you're American).

But it doesn't end with pregnancy, no. "From 2009, expectant mothers will be able to choose whether they go to hospital, a midwife-led unit or stay at home to have their children delivered." To have their children delivered?  We're talking about babies, not parcels. And I hate to break this to anyone, but babies do their level best to deliver themselves. You could be unconscious and the little critter would still come out. Plus I was under the impression it was already my choice where and how my own child exited my own body. No?

In fact, even before you have kids, you're wrong. The age of first-time mums has been rising steadily since the 1970s and is now over 30 for the first time ever, "which may be due to increasing numbers of women putting off having a family until they have established relationships and settled careers." The selfish bitches.

Although it annoys the hell out of me, I've kind of got used to it. But a line in the story I read today really put me over the edge:

TODDLERS who are left in nurseries for seven hours a day are more "antisocial, worried and upset" than others, government research has found.

The disturbing study, which is likely to concern Britain's 4.9 million working mothers, was condemned yesterday as unhelpful by equality campaigners.

Yes, because Britain's 4.6 million working fathers couldn't possibly give a shit, could they?

And they say the battle for equality was won in the seventies. (Some interesting info here from the Equal Opportunities Commission.)

Crazy

At the weekend, David's parents spent a full day sorting out our garden. They washed away the slime left when the drain overflowed. They repaired the fence blown down in those strong winds (um, a few months ago). They created a new flower bed. Moved a (small) tree. Trimmed the hedge. And who knows what else? (Not me, I stayed well out of it!) So the garden is now lovely and perfect for the current sunshiney days.

It being Easter half term, Harry had no preschool this morning. So I put his little slide in the garden (on an off-cut of carpet because the grass was a little bit wet). I took out a roll of wallpaper, some finger paints and his box of play dough. He's got a little rocking horse thingy already out there. Harry put his coat on and carried out a tupperware box full of biscuits (he's his mother's son alright). I felt very smug. Creative activities! In the fresh air!

Harry finger painted for approximately 30 seconds. Went down the slide once. Looked distainfully at his horse. Played with the play dough for a minute. Brought me the watering can. I filled it. He watered. Then he wandered about, looking a bit put out. I took the opportunity to fling myself into the shed and retrieve a storage box so I can pack it with stuff for a car boot.

Harry saw the storage box. His eyes lit up. He took it off me and sat in it, grinning. He got out, fetched the tupperware of biscuits and climbed back in the box with them. After about ten minutes (and I wouldn't like to think how many biscuits), he got out of the box and wandered back into the house.

Good grief.

Getting old

I've got loads to say today, but I had to post this first. I just read Caroline's musings on feeling old thanks to txt msg language. (After writing "txt" and "msg" then I couldn't think how to spell language. I almost put "langwidge".)

Well, do you remember Neneh Cherry causing a stir performing Buffalo Stance while heavily pregnant? Would it surprise you to hear that baby is now 18? And Neneh Cherry is a grandmother. How old d'ya feel now?

Give It Update

Well, negative self-talk month wasn't entirely successful, as expected. See, the thing is, it's so ingrained that I often don't even notice I'm doing it or when I have done it. Occasionally, if my mind went off on a negative rant, I'd catch on and then a simple "Shut it!" usually stopped it in its tracks. Until the next time. I suppose the only thing to do is to try and become aware of it ... but the chatter in my head is so constant ... anyway, that's another post. So I tried. I probably mostly failed. But I'm going to keep at it all the same.

Now, let's see what April has in store ... ooh, crap, newspapers. Well, I've read two sections of the Observer today (Business and Review), but I'll not bother with the rest. I don't think this is going to be hugely difficult for me. Well, hang on, maybe a bit harder than I think. I generally don't read the news portion of newspapers (which David never tires of mocking me about) and that's what I imagine I'm supposed to be giving up since I know that the news has a negative and stressful effect. I know this because I pitched an article about it and no-one was interested ... oh hang on, someone was, but now that I think about it, I haven't seen that magazine for a long time and it's probably gone bust. Anyway. Um, yeah, so missing out on actual news won't trouble me, but I do hate to miss out on information (and gossip).

Of course, I'll let you know how I get on.

Still no ANTM

You would think at my age I would have learned to work a television, but apparently not. One of the things I love about NTL Digital is that when you set the timer, it switches channel by itself, enabling you to tape more than one thing on Sky TV. What I always forget is to delete previously set reminders that I no longer want.

So when I tried to tape ANTM last Monday, it switched to Heroes. I taped it again on Friday night, forgetting that I'd set a reminder for Jonathan Ross. So just as the girls got to judging ... off it went. And it doesn't look like it's on again, so I'll have to read the update on Television Without Pity to find out who went home. Sorry about that.