Friday, 30 October 2009

packing it in

I have been packing for several days with various friends popping into help. Thank god for that for after 7 days intensive packing I ache all over and dare I say it ....feel my age. During this period of cardboard and brown tape hell I decided that half term had to at least involve my kids, well one anyway. She-ra and I headed to town, me for a hair cut and she for a fleecing ( of me .) Actually she was quite restrained having already serviced her need to shop with a quick foray into Primark and New look before meeting me at my hairdressers. When looking for a suitable place for lunch we walked past McDonald's. Ah the memories. Pre kids this was my hangover cure - a quarter pounder with fries and coke. I can remember driving through and grabbing the food with my mates before gorging ourselves in the car park and then belching so loud i sounded like a truckers car alarm.When the kids were little we often went for a happy meal ( a misnomer if ever I heard one ) sometimes with other mums. It was a frentic session fuelled by additives and a lot of tomato sauce. Now it is given a wide berth. She-ra took one look at it and said "McFatties more like"
Box 500 packed. Phone calls to solicitors - lost count. Move date set. Exchange of documents yet to take place. Thanks to Royal Mail. Free cycle -1 ebay - 0 ( thanks to vanishing winning bidder with more items yet to be sold). Trips to charity shops - 7 trip to dump ( or the household recycling waste site ) -6

Thursday, 22 October 2009

no time to spare

I have realised that of late I am not getting the time to blog at all. Lunchtimes used to suit me just fine as it would be a quick half hour of light relief before back to the grind stone but everything is by the seat of the pants at the moment. If I am not trudging into town on a mission to buy say replacement pencil case because heman glued shera's together, or checking billions of emails about rubbish then I am either scouring the rental columns to find suitable house, arranging to view multiple houses and fending off phonecalls from Hemans school. Added to this the fact that I am trying to avoid having to pay ex husbands bad debts, organise a complicated house move, hold down job, pack, sell numerous unwanted ( and wanted ) items on ebay which I detest all whilst trying to keep sane seems to be helped by Messrs Cabernet & Sauvignon at the moment. So you can imagine my joy having had 3 long phone calls with one solicitor another 3 with estate agents and another 3 with letting agents, when I receive this call from shera...." mum what do you do when you have been bitten bya squirrel?"

you can find me in the box on the left

Saturday, 17 October 2009

Running Water Riding Bicycles

I have a new nickname- Running Water. It's not some reference to the fact my pelvic floor ain't what it used to be or that I can quaff wine like water. No it is in fact my pub singer name. Whilst away with the girlies ( alright middle aged womenies ) we had much hilarity one night after a fantastic deli dinner spread chez nous. Chez nous by the way was a fantastic Dutch house, canal side just off prisengracht ). At some point during the evening it was suggested that we play pub singer a la Vic Reeves stylee. This was a well received suggestion until we had to decide who went first. Ever the shrinking violet I opted to go first with my rendition of Call me by Blondie. It was at this that we discovered that I sounded less pub singer and more Native American. I have to say it was the most funniest thing I have seen and heard in a long time, one sounded like a cleft palated mute, another Frank Spencer on speed, another a frenetic chicken. We all agreed that what happened that night had to stay in the room but as always at lunch the next day we couldn't help ourselves but to re-enact it.

In addition to the pub singer we discovered stroopwaffeln which are deceptively heavy biscuits, quite tasty, but something we found hysterically funny. I actually think this was less to do with the biscuit and more to do with the fact that we had been up since 4am. We played the old stand by game celebrity lookalikee with always contentious results. One friend of well endowedness got her boobs stuck under a table whilst running buddy 1 was presented by the staff with a banana complete with quickly fashioned foreskin and pubes much to the amusement of the restaurant staff( Sama Sebo best Indonesian in Amsterdam, you wont find it in any guide books ). The allocation of bedrooms was done pre arrival but was quickly rearranged once the highly sought after loft room was discovered to have near vertical steps for access and no toilet. This is not good for middle aged women who have poor bladder control and the need for midnight piddling. Never before has the phrase "a pot to piss in" been more appropriate as one party member missed out on the luxury level below complete with 2 toilets thus finding herself scouring the apartment for suitable receptacles to hold a middle of the night wee. Unfortunately this first night the said pot was not big enough and we spent much of the rest of the holiday pointing out suitable vessels.

We packed a lot into a short stay but the cycling had to be my fave. Particularly as we scooted round the warm autumn sun in the Vondel park with mum of three displaying her speedy prowess whilst others clearly had forgotten how to ride a bike. This culminated in taking in a beer at the Film museum sat in the warm sun and a rather attractive 40 something wealthy Amsterdammer offering to take several group photos. By the end of the afternoon we had all secretly plotted to leave the UK get a job in a coffee shop and ride a bicycle. Now how do we tell out families.

Monday, 5 October 2009

Queer as folk

Sometimes the strangeness of people is just over whelming funny. First we clocked up yet another house viewing. I think we must be on about 100th now and still no joy. We arrived at houseviewing 99 - the home to an oriental family. She was most annoyed with her husband that he had taken the key to the garage and therefore I could not view the inside of this magnificent building. Fook that! the rest of the house looked like something a tsunami had spat out. In fact I am sure that her husband was hidden under the duvet as I had never quite seen a bed made like that before. The living room was a quanrtine zone for a very swine flu looking a girl and there was a strange child running about in a vest. The best we could say about the house was that her cooking smelt really nice.

Who could have thought that a a quick trip to Big Tescos could have brought so much amusement. The woman on the check out had more hair clips in her hair then a branch of Claire's accessories. I was fascinated and couldn't stop staring. She-ra picked up on this and no eye contact was vital to make it away without laughing. Then there was was nice but dim security guard who had to apprehend us because the hair clip demonstration model had forgotten to take off the security tag. He wrote some very important numbers of the back of his hand which he then smudged when he went to wipe his nose with the same back of hand. He ould have easlily been related to Forrest Gump. Finally - completing the setting there was the broken down car. This was actually blocking our car and having just bought my own body weight in ice cream - various flavours - then this was not a good situation to be in. There was a youngish couple trying to push the car out of the way but with no result. Shit, I thought selfishly to myself, I'm going to have to help here - where is my son when you need him he could move this easily. The couple continued to try and push the car out of the way as we approached when the guy flounced to the front of the car where there was a rather large man sat in the driver seat. Ah that's why it isn't moving. But no there was more. With much arm waving there then appeared a rather large lady from the back seat most indignant that she had been asked to out of the car. You could almost hear her saying, as she shifted the weight of her humongous breasts from one arm to another " I'm a size 6 yah know...." Cluck cluck

Thursday, 1 October 2009

News alert! frantic house hunter spotted!

The house hunting is reaching a hiatus. My offers have been rejected by the divorcing couple who are clearly not ready to move on. This half of a divorced couple is definitely ready to move on and fast. But where are the houses? There is nothing out there and the pickings are slim. Then we have to factor in huge sized teenagers whose trainers are big enough to sleep in. My need for a garden that is south facing - I'm not talking acres here but big enough for a BBQ table and chairs only in the sun. Then there is the number of beds and sizes of said bedrooms. The burning question for the kids is who gets the smallest room. Many a time it has been suggested that I, mater, should be the recipient given that I am now the smallest member of the family. However I think He-man should have it. He uses his room only for sleeping and PS3'ing with sleep overs conducted downstairs. Whereas She-ra has girlies over and much time nutty tuttying goes on en chambre. Location Location Location is of prime importance though and bedroom sizes have been renegotiated in favour of getting the location right. Teenagers and friends are attached at the hip and suggestions of moving further away results in an allergic reaction. So far I have looked at houses with only one child, and never the same one, having never managed to get both together at the same time. However they realise that this is serious now and we have to be out in approximately 6 weeks time and have yet to find somewhere to live. Renting does really appeal and guess what ? there aren't many suitable rentals out there either. I didn't expect it to be this bad. But despite the prospect of being homeless, that we have way too much furniture to fit into any of the homes and that I am amassing cardboard boxes at a rapid rate it is not stressful as everyone seems to think it should be. Besides the cardboard city in my garage could soon be a comfortable abode for 3 and a dog.