The News of the Shrews

The view from the top...

Well, last night was a success.  I think.  Judging by the hideous hangovers that we have today, a good night was had over at one half of the mental asylum.  The other half does actually contain certifiable mentals (so we’ve now learnt), which makes my slightly insane babbling at them pre-xmas, and their snub of our xmas drinks a little more okay.  Advolly and Paul were lovely hosts, and although my first attempt at a pavlova was woefully lacking the requisite lashings of cream, we shall certainly be reciprocating their hospitality soon.  In fact have already got another social engagement from it – off to a private view on Thursday with Advolly (ooh, free champers…), and have agreed prices with Tilly for future babysitting – dear god, we could actually go out!  Perhaps we’ll ease ourselves in with a trip to the cinema…

Their house is currently being re-plastered, and so was not putting its best foot forward sadly.  Did obviously have a good nose round (under the guise of seeing what work they were having done), though both A and P were more than willing to show us, bless them.  Whilst it is a lovely house, both Adam and i came away thinking that in fact, we prefer the 60′s monstrosity that we’re in.  If only we had 7 bedrooms here…

Funiculars don't get steeper than this

So, after a quick call to Advolly to apologise for myself (just incase…had a realisation at 5am that somehow, for a short red-wine fuelled moment, i’d managed to convince myself that Paul was Tilly’s father, he’s not, and i know that full well, but then had a rather confused conversation…and shortly afterwards took myself home…not quite on a doing hat impressions scale, but…), anyway after the embarrassing call (where i rambled on for far too long…perhaps still a wee bit drunk), we set off for Bridgnorth, predominantly to ride the “steepest inland funicular in Britain”, but really to try and out-run our hangovers.

What i wasn’t expecting was for it to be quite such a beautiful town.  It’s two town’s really.  Posh at the top of the hill, and poor at the bottom (as you’d expect).  The funicular was put in to take over from the donkeys, who previously were ferrying all the lovely goods up to the gods, and as soon as we’d descended in it i wanted to be back at the top too.  We’ll definitely be going back there, if not for the views (which Charles I thought rightly were the best in all his kingdom), then for the food and shopping.  Not only were there lots of wonderful butchers, bakers, and tea rooms, but at the weekend there’s car boot sales galore.  What more could you ask for?

Meanwhile, wee man’s shiner is coming on a treat…

Despite the use of chocolate camouflage, the black eye's still somewhat obvious

So yesterday was a momentous day.  Our little universe’s first ever proper playmate – by that i mean a “stranger’s” child came to our house.  His friend Yousuf (and mum) came over after nursery and stayed for tea.  Twas a lovely afternoon, and a bit of an eye-opener (initially) as to how 3yr olds play, or more specifically, how wee man plays with his friends.  Alongside much laughter and screaming and running and excitement, there was also tears.  Most notably as C chased poor Yousuf into a corner, tearfully demanding that he agree to be his “best friend”.  Poor Yousuf, crying out “I said YES!” as our boy continued to harass him and not listen.  Bless.  I guess.  However, in the final furlong there was an accident with the Spinosaurus resulting in a fantastic shiner…since Yousuf had run into someone’s shoulder earlier in the day at nursery, the two of them rocked up to pre-school today looking like right little hooligans.  Perfectly matched i guess.

It was the spinosaurus what done it, honest guv

Yousuf’s mum is very sweet, quite young, and single, and we’ve a reciprocal date lined up for next week, so slowly, slowly am starting to see other people’s houses and get to know a few people.  On Friday we have much excitement as are invited over to our neighbours’ Advolly and Paul – with their daughter Tilly coming to babysit ours whilst we get drunk and eat food at theirs.  Perfect.  Looking v much forward to that as they live in half of the victorian mental asylum and am keen to have a good nose!!!  All go here i tell you…!

Well, Thurday’s yoga was somewhat disappointing.  Unless of course you like looking at septuagenarian genitals that is.  Sadly, mesmerising though they were, the hunt for the right yoga class continues.  Twas all very nice and chilled, and i will probably return, as it was very relaxing, but relaxing is only part of what i look for in a yoga class.  I like to be worked out and to feel physically challenged, and 6 positions in 2 hours does not really do it for me.

And Forest School?  Well, it was a miserable day here, and our wee man returned suitably covered from head to toe in mud and shattered, so i can only assume that it was good.  I say that, as trying to get any sense of what occurred out of him was like trying to get a surly teenager to talk about what they did at school.  The best sentence that i got from him all afternoon was “I’m angry now because I’m hungry and tea is not ready”…brilliant.

Right, off to bed early for me – little titfer has had a temperature all day, and whilst i’m desperately hoping that it’s just teething, am feeling now somewhat under the weather myself, probably due to the fact that i’ve essentially been lying down all day comforting her, which surprisingly isn’t as energising as it may seem.  Need to be on good form, as we’ve the Jackson’s turning up tomorrow and don’t imagine they’ll want to be cooking their own food…

So it’s all change here this week (well kind of…).  The hat is on the move!  In fact she’s kind of been on the move for the past few weeks, but i have been in Egypt (de Nile) about it as i really really wanted at least one of my children to crawl and since Cosmo bum shuffled til he was 18 months old, that goal lay with the youngest.  However, since she can now make her way, on carpet, across the sitting room floor, in a relatively quick time, i have to admit that she’s probably not going to crawl.  Having been perfectly happy to do ‘tummy time’ (up until about now) i had high hopes, but she’s realised that she can’t get anywhere on her tummy, but on her bum she can get practically any toy/paper/book (insert other totally inappropriate object here) that she damn well wants.  Ah well.  Maybe she’ll crawl later…no1 child can crawl now, but then he is 3.

Speaking of whom, still no movement on the loo (literally).  He has now installed his step (in theory supposed to be used to help him get onto said loo) in the pantry, so that he can inspect at closer range the toys that are awaiting him.  Not too sure that allowing that was such a good idea, as the novelty of having the actual toys appears to have worn off (and thereby the bribery power) and he’s now quite happy to imaginarily play with them.  Hmmm.  Ah well, it’ll happen i guess.  Just hope that it’s before he goes to school.  He’s got a big day on Friday, as it’s the first day of ‘Forest School’ – whereby the kids essentially have pre-school out in the woods.  Exploring, running round and just generally being at one with nature man.  Apparently it’s nothing to do with the hippy camps that we went on as kids (sadly), but i am utterly in love with the ethos.  This is what we moved to the country for – to give the kids a better quality of life.  Fingers crossed he likes it.  And doesn’t shit his pants.

And as for me, well my New Year’s resolutions are coming along modestly.  I rocked up to last Monday’s yoga class promising that i would attend faithfully every week and duly paid the discounted price, with the full intention of turning up every week.  Had to email her yesterday to explain that i would not in fact be turning up for the foreseeable future and could i possibly reimburse her the monies that i therefore owed.  Shame.  However, having searched high and low for anyone, almost anywhere, who may be able to teach some Ashtanga and therefore help me to be good, i think that i may have found a solution.  Though am somewhat dubious.  There’s a class 30 mins away on a Thursday evening (so far so good), taught by a guy who is into Tantric.  And here i become nervous.  On his website he says that he believes that yoga should be practised naked…hmmm….and a whole lot of other gumf.  Ashtanga is only one of many forms that he utilises, so it won’t be my ideal Mysore style class, but am willing to give it a go (WITH CLOTHES ON).  We shall see.

Who said January was boring?  It’s all go here.  Kind of.

So Adam’s got a new temporary extra job.  It’s practically his perfect gig – a lecturer teaching film (theory and practice) at a leading uni, one day a week on the Monday (his day off from college) – which has all come around ever so quickly through his brilliance and his old  professor’s continued admiration.  The downside is that it’s in Canterbury so he’s going to be commuting down on a Sunday and coming back late on Monday, which is harsh.  But potentially worth it, especially if it leads to something more…am trying not to get too excited about it.  Mainly this is manifesting itself in a bout of ‘justifiable’ lethargy vis a vis thinking about work, like i needed a further excuse…but hey, what’s the point in stressing until we know where we’re going to be based?  And that’s not going to be clear for a good few months.  Wehey!

There’s just no arguing with a 3 year old.  It doesn’t matter how many times i tell him, we read it, or he sees it.  He’s convinced that ‘Star Command’ is really ‘Starkled Man’.  We’re using a buzz, a dragon, a tiger, a playmobil gengis khan and a knight on a horse as pure bribery to get him to shit on the lav.  No polite way to put it really.  Having been to Toys’r'us (dear god, is there a worse place on earth? more dreary? more depressing? more reminiscent of the failures of modern day parenting?  Or is it just that it was such a verboten place when i was growing up that my childish dreams of the magnificence of the place pale somewhat when i step into essentially the merchandising arm of cbeebies and citv…i digress).  So, having been to Toys’r'us to buy the bribes – where i had to cajole him to choose gifts, as bless his cottons once he had the tiger in his sweaty palms he was satisfied – walking up and down the aisles with his innocent mind, unaware that he was standing just inches away from the characters that he plays at nursery (with his more TV literate friends…).  We now wait for the eureka moment when he finally plucks up the courage to plop, and he can finally get hold of his Starkled Man.  Please let it be soon…

Ooh, and the hat’s got her first tooth!  We’ve finally kicked her out of our room, and we’re all sleeping the better for it (well, until the next tooth…).

A few words of explanation before i proceed – this year’s xmas day was apparently sponsored by the letters ‘o’, ‘b’, ‘v’ and ‘s’, and the fruit ‘bapple’.  But whilst it’s best to gloss over the bapple incident (obvs), those little letters are mighty pervasive, i will try to hold back, but feel free to insert them in yourself in appropriate places.

God, xmas day feels like an age away now, and i guess it was.  All been a bit of a blur as we whirl winded here and there, got back to our place, then had the kids and Katie back for new year.  And suddenly it’s Tuesday.  Raining.  What a comedown.  2012.  The nicest thought i’ve mustered up today is that i hope that Danny Boyle really balls it up at the opening ceremony, cos that might make me laugh a lot in 6 months time.

So a couple of vignettes, and then to the serious business of avoiding conversations about getting a job.

1. Christmas Lunch: i am very much looking forward to the looks of amazement and adoration on relatives faces as the hat does her amazing baby led weaning eating trick and demolishes turkey potatoes ham brussels, anything that she can get in her mouth.  Instead she projectile pukes all her milk up.  And from then until 7pm (actually not that many hours away) that was me done.  Got her down just in time to make it for xmas pud…!

2. Leaving my mums: all the bags are kind of packed, or getting there.  The only job left is to get them to the car (and look after the kids, obvs).  I watch with tears of frustration and love, as my hero moves all the bags first from the sitting room to the hallway (no door nor wall to hinder this move), then outside (yea), a bit.  And then eventually into the car (which is parked immediately in front of the house).  I expect to see some kind of military ninja execution of the packing after this extravagant use of thought and time.  I wish i had a picture.  I nearly wet myself.  Mrs 1, Mr 0.  Needless to say i then locked the door, popped the keys back inside and realised that i’d forgotten a lot of highly practical and essential kit.  Mrs 1, Mr 1.  Balance restored.

One of my favourite meals is a veal milanese – veal escalope with tomato spaghetti – and so since we’ve been here i’ve been trying to hunt down some veal.  Sainsbury’s doesn’t stock it, nor do the other supermarkets and the farmer’s shop doesn’t either (who it turns out is Barbara and Peter’s – our next door neighbours – nephew).  And so i finally ventured into the butchers at the bottom of the road.  If am honest have been avoiding them as they look quite cheap, but realised that i was just being snobby.  Anyway, as soon as i asked for veal i was set upon by the butcher’s wife with a rant about how inhumane veal was (they keep ‘em in the dark and feed them milk) etc etc, i did try to explain that in fact that was illegal, and that these days it was (i thought) quite common knowledge that veal is just as humane as lamb to eat.  To no avail.  I bought a chicken breast (didn’t dare ask whether it was free range) and left.  Transpires that Shropshire hasn’t had the veal revolution yet, and am not entirely sure i’ll be welcomed back into the butchers.  Ah well.  The search continues.

We had a few of the neighbours round for mince pies this afternoon (who laughed politely at my veal escapades, but were perhaps sympathetic with the butchers wife and thought me some raving meat-aholic – probably confirmed when i started raving about suckling pig, but hey, you gotta play to your audience right?  So we had Barbara and Peter, Advolly and Paul, and Rita and Mark, with two no-shows from Steve and Nicky (next door to Advolly – whose house has just been sold, and potentially the reason for their no show) and Catherine (with the lovely woofers).  Beryl didn’t make it either, but that’s primarily because i wasn’t able to deliver her card.  I did try, but couldn’t find a postbox, honestly.  Was a lovely few hours, until the kids expressed their tiredness loudly, and our guests took their leave.

Next week we’re down in Londinium, staying at my mum’s…so until we return, Happy Christmas to all!

Yea!  Almost all presents wrapped and accounted for.  All ordered.  All neatly labelled.  At least i didn’t make the wrapping paper (though i did contemplate it…).  Hmm, maybe i do need a job…

Ooh, and it snowed today!!!  For a nano-second.  One week to go, and counting!

1. After a sleepless night (thanks Hat) on Tuesday i’ve now come down with the lurgy

2. If it’s not the cold that no2 child’s got, we will all be ill for christmas

3. Despite making 60 cards, no1 child only got 20 back

4. Which is still a whole load more than we have

5. Have finally distributed cards to neighbours inviting them round on Sunday afternoon, but they probably won’t be able to make it, all except for Beryl, who will bore us to death with her stories of her drunken brother-in-law

Sometimes life is just too predictable.