Further evidence

Tippler asked if I'd found my marbles, well no. And this morning I realised there is sod all chance of ever getting them back.

I like black clothes. For all the usual reasons. This morning while getting dressed I decided to wear a black skirt and black long-sleeved t-shirt. I got dressed and then managed to dribble on my t-shirt. So I went upstairs to change my top.

I decided to stick with the long-sleeved black t-shirt thing and pulled another one out of my wardrobe. It was identical to the one I'd just put in the wash. So I put that back and remembered I had a new long-sleeved black t-shirt, so I thought I'd wear that for a change.

It was bloody identical too. Same make, size, colour. I'm nothing if not consistent.

Now I certainly didn't intend, or even know, I'd bought three the same. So I'd obviously gone in the shop seen the t-shirt, and thought, that's ok, I'll have that. Three times. I'd better start being nice to my kids.

They'll be choosing my old people's home sooner rather than later.

LOST: marbles - reward for return

Every night I have a shower. Every night I have (at least) a glass of wine.

Occasionally I have a bath. When I have a bath, I have a glass of wine while I'm soaking.

But please explain why tonight I had a shower and a glass of wine - at the same time. Well at least I tried to, but not intentionally. I stepped in the shower while holding my wine and I ended up covered in watered down rose. Hmmm.

And yes, sadly, I did drink the watered down remnants that were still in my glass.

In case you think I have run out of birthdays I haven't, but have got bored with that line of blogging, so for those that may feel left out here are the birthdays for the next 2 weeks:

Matthew (Andrea-the-Viking's 'little' boy - he's 6'2") - 15 today (19/2)
Katie (my God-daughter) - 6 on 24/2
My mummy (sorry, you won't get away with 39 any more) - 72 on 24/2
Anthony (I went to his 40th last year) - 35 on 5/3 (yes, I'm lying)

and for those I missed in January

Sarah (my very gifted opera-singing sister) - 38 on 3/1
Caspar (my cute as a button nephew) - newly arrived on 3/1
Hateful Harry (Jonathan's 'father') - 487 on 16/1 (well he looks it)

Oh, and I missed the rather magnificently named Hendrik le Roux's birthday which was 1/2, and he's 20 something and currently on holiday in Lanzarote, which makes me jealous (both being 20 something AND being on holiday). I then have a birthday 'holiday' until Sophie's on May 29th.

Hooo-bloody-ray.

Happy birthday Ysabella

It's my little girl's birthday today. She's 12. I can't believe how fast the time has flown. I can remember so many things about the day she was born so clearly.

I didn't want to know the sex of either of my babies but found out both times before they were born, by accident.

I was just about to have my first baby dragged out of my guts when the doctor, who had his hands groping around in my stomach, said something like 'He's very big'. To which the senior doctor, with a cross face, said 'The mother didn't want to know the sex of her child before the birth'. Ok, it was literally seconds before he emerged, so that wasn't too bad, but it was a bit careless on the junior doctor's part.

After my emergency caesarian with Theo, I had a planned c. section with Ysabella. There was another lady in the bed next to me as we waited to go into theatre. We were both strapped up having our babies' heartbeats monitored. She knew she was having a girl. I knew that in the 'olden days' one way they told the sex of a baby was it's heart rate. I don't know which way round it is but one sex has a significantly higher heart rate than the other. Our babies' heart rates were identical, therefore I knew I was having a girl about 4 or 5 hours before she was born.

My sister wanted to know so she could decorate the nursery accordingly - and because she doesn't like surprises. (Although she was quite surprised to find out she was pregnant in the first place!) So, knowing she was having a boy she decorated the nursery pale green with a giraffe theme to accommodate her massive giraffe collection. Erm, wouldn't that have been suitable for a girl too?

A friend of mine wanted to know the sex of her baby as soon as possible. She was having a boy, and within days they had chosen a name, Mark. She used to say things like 'When Mark comes' and When Mark arrives' and it sounded more like she was expecting a visitor than having a baby. And it was that that really put me off wanting to know.

I'd have preferred to have know more useful stuff like 'Will my baby be a total prat when he's 15' or 'Will my daughter expect to be waited on hand and foot all her life'.

And then I could have planned accordingly.

Happy birthday Val

- cheating a bit here cos her birthday isn't until tomorrow. Yes that's right, her birthday is Valentine's Day and her name is Valentine. How imaginative of her parents.

Haven't seen her for ages, not since I worked in Southend (now that WAS a bizarre experience for a Yorkshire lass) as she was living in Romford. I used to go over on Wednesday for dinner and a chat.

I met Val when I was at school and worked at Littlewoods on a Saturday. In the Food Hall. It was horrible. She started one week and I was asked to look after her and show her the ropes (actually, I had to show her the bacon). She'd recently moved to Leeds from Worksop and amazingly we had mutual friends (from Worksop College). We hit it off straight away. We both liked getting pissed and boys. Not necessarily in that order.

She was at Leeds College of Music and eventually got round to another boyfriend called John. They eventually married and went on to have 4 lovely girls.

They became very churchified after they got married and John became pretty much holier than thou. It made me chuckle inside when he used to tell me off for swearing, taking the Lord's name in vain and talking about 'inappropriate' things in general. This really made me laugh cos he obviously had a very short memory. But I don't.

I remember what they used to get up to in the practice rooms!!

Happy birthday Lynda

Today is the fallen-Lynda-with-the-big-boobies birthday. She's now as old as me. Ha! This puts an end to the 5 month window of gloating she has about me being a year older than her.

Theo has managed to squeeze us into his busy schedule and tonight we've been out for dinner to belatedly celebrate his birthday. He was actually quite chatty and pleasant, so that was nice, but Ysabella was put out by competition so she upped her volume and shouted us all down, so that was quite irritating. And then when she butted in for the umpteenth time and I told her to wait until Theo had finished speaking, she sulked and didn't say anything for the rest of the meal. Hmmm, should have told her off at the beginning.

Back into the swing at uni now. It's ok, not too taxing at the moment. We really are on a lovely campus and these lovely spring/winter/whatever-season-it-is-at-the-moment days with clear blues skies and sunshine really show it off beautifully. Mind you, it is best appreciated from inside cos it's so bloody cold.

Jonathan made the beds today. Don't know why he bothers. I mean my domestic standards are pretty low, but he comes nowhere near. Theo's bed was still so lumpy I thought Theo was still in it! But I can't say anything cos he'll never do it again and once every 2-3 years isn't very much as it is. Still, his cooking is improving, and you can just about see the food through the grease, so that's good.

I suppose my biggest news today is that I bought some fruit yesterday (hold the front page). Peaches, plums, blackberries, a pomegranate and a pineapple. And a plum and a peach disappeared. This really confused me cos the rest of the family are not known for their fruit eating (or anything healthy for that matter). I asked Jonathan - no, not him. I asked Ysabella - no, not her. So then I thought I'd either gone mad or eaten them myself and not noticed. But then Theo said he'd had them.

And that really unnerved me.

Happy birthday Dad

It's my dad's birthday today.

I love my dad. He's a splendid, kind, clever and loving man. I'm very lucky.

He used to be a sales rep and travelled a lot over all 3 Yorkshires and a bit further up, lower down and to the side (I'm counting Hull, Grimsby etc in the Yorskhire bit). When I was young I used to go with him on his calls during the school holidays. While he visited his customers I'd sit in the car and read. We'd take sandwiches and go somewhere picturesque and have our lunch while he read the paper and I'd read my book again.

When I was very young I'd often fall asleep on the way home - especially when we had the Zephyr 6 that had a leather bench seat in the front - and a weird column gear stick.

My dad isn't anti-social but he doesn't talk that much when he's driving, but that didn't matter. I was alone with my dad. I can remember him enjoying Woman's Hour on the radio. This was my favourite way to spend my school holidays.

Well he's 73 now, and his rep-ing days are long gone, but I'm back to having 'school' holidays so I think it would only be fair if he took me out for a day again. His driving is fine but maybe this time I could drive him, and he can read one of his many books, and I'll read the paper while we have our picnic.

And then he can fall asleep on the way home.