Today I realised that I had been driving for sixteen years!
I was so desperate to pass that I booked my test five months after my birthday. I was so excited, I had passed my theory previously and all I had to do was get through half hour driving test. It was horrendous, I had five majors. I was distraught, I remember coming in through the front door and my mum and dad asking how it went and I said I had failed, and they thought I was pulling their leg. No, I had really failed and it felt like the end of the world.
My driving instructor was James Bond, well his name was Alan, he thought he was James Bond, I’m not kidding. His telephone number ended 007, he was obsessed, which made me want to pass even more. My second test was booked for November 25th 1999, I was more nervous than before, pressure was building, I needed to pass, what could I do? I had heard that if I wore a short skirt, some make up and a low cut top the driving instructor would be so distracted by my beauty and my legs he would pass me regardless if I had wrapped his car around a tree.
The day of the test, I slather myself in makeup, I borrow my sister’s short skirt, find the lowest cut top I could find and most weirdly decide to wear my black leather driving gloves but only one, I couldn’t find the other. I dread to think what I looked like, but it worked! I passed!
So all you people out there yet to pass, take note!
This weekend I went to a festival with my two sons. In the past, my main priority was how much alcohol I needed to take and that was it. This year was a little bit different to say the least.
Would I have a good time without taking a drop of alcohol? Little did I know that I would have the best festival I have ever had. ( And I have had some corkers!)
Driving to Cheltenham racecourse was horrendous, it was lashing down, flash floods, howling wind, I almost turned around and went home. There was no way I was going to be able to have a good time in the rain.
The moment I parked up, the rain eased off, and the fun started. Rudi was a natural festival goer, with the help of Perla dressing him in a multi coloured tutu, and a bubble gun he was away. Retiring to the tent at 9pm on Friday night, I was happy and ready to sleep..
Just because I was completely sober, it didn’t mean that everyone else was, I spent the next SIX AND A HALF hours listening to mainly my brother in law and a family friend talking outside the tent by the fire. In any other situation, I would be livid, but it was comedy gold. At one point, I was genuinely holding in my laughter so I didn’t wake the kids, and I could hear Martha laughing from her tent too at their conversations.
Regardless of having zero sleep, the weather was kind, the kids were so happy, the festival was brilliant. Seeing Rudi’s face watching Mr. Tumble on stage was the highlight of the weekend. It goes to show you don’t need a rucksack full of booze to enjoy yourself! I would definitely recommend this family festival for anyone with children.
Come join us all next year? ( I might take a few beers next time though and join in the conversation)
Since I became a mum 2 years, 4 months, & 15 days ago, my spine must be the strongest in the West Country with the amount of ‘Rods’ I’ve created for it.
I cannot recall ever hearing these words before I became a mum, I might have muttered them to other mothers when they picked up a crying baby ? Maybe I said it to my sister when after 3 solid hours of whinging she gave in and handed my niece her ‘DD?’. Was there a time when my sleep deprived friend went upstairs to soothe a scared child I raised my eyebrows, stopped sipping my red wine and told her in no uncertain terms that this ‘Rod’ was being created for her back ?
What does it literally even mean anyway? After all these rods one has created, does this mean awful times ahead? If I dare pick my child up when he asks for a cwtch, will that mean a lifetime of cuddles? A 37 year old man hanging onto my leg whilst I am frantically trying to remove the rod that I created 35 years ago? How can you tell if the rod is being created or whether you should comfort your child? is there a formula for it? I’m confused, I don’t know.
What I do know, is that I haven’t heard the last of the saying, I am not sure what age my children have to be until this rod for my back stops growing and that I will definitely never use the saying to another human being ever! I have to go, my back needs a new rod..
Griff was headhunted recently and asked to go for a photo shoot for ‘Gro’. We were picked up in a stretch limo* and taken to the studio. Griff smiled and smiled and I suddenly acquired an American accent and started shouting ‘work it baby!’ ‘Work it babbbby’ which weirdly worked and he smiled throughout. I was so proud of my little guy and here he is on the gro website ..
*details might have exaggerated a little.. Due to a proud mum
I love food so much, I could write a blog solely dedicated to food, I am sure I have in the past blogged about it but just in case I am wrong, here is another.
Every time I walk up town, I cannot help myself from walking into ‘Thorntons’, I am sure they have a magnetic field surrounding their store and if you walk within 30 yards, the top half of your body turns and your legs follow straight into the shop to the Vienese Truffles.
We have decided in our house once a week to make something from scratch, this week was pizza. Yesterday, me, Rudi and Griff spent 3.5 hours making a simple Jamie Oliver Pizza. We bought all the ingredients and started kneading the pizza base. Forty five minutes later, I was still kneading until I realised we were missing 0.6L of water. Still, we didn’t give up and it was the tastiest pizza we have ever had.
Breastfeeding is a great excuse to eat whatever I want, I was initially giving up at 6 months but the way I am eating, I am going to have to continue until Griff is 30, or maybe have another..
I am the proud owner of a second ‘Mad Mike’ painting. I have never had the pleasure of meeting the artist behind this masterpiece but I have heard a lot about him.
My uncle Gareth has met him lots of times, he sells his very reasonably priced paintings on a market stall in a small town, its all a bit of a mystery. I have heard stories that he lives on a boat, has long grey hair, wears cowboy boots, long fingernails and a tweed holey waistcoat. ( I made some of them up ) What I do know is that he is very talented and his paintings are amazing.
To be the proud owner of a custom painting doesn’t come easy, but its well worth the wait.
Oh, and its ‘Art Mike’ not ‘Mad Mike’