Cringe City

I seem to be morphing more and more into Miranda Hart. Not in a "is she a man or a woman" kind of way (I hope), but in a "it could only ever happen to me" kind of way. I seem to cringe my way through the week.

Yesterday was the latest of my "embarrassing moments". I'd left my course (I'm training to be a breastfeeding peer supporter for new mums) and headed to my new favourite charity shop.

It's six units rolled into one. Huge. It has furniture, clothes, accessories, knitting and crochet bits and bobs, it's basically divine.

As I walked in, I noticed the staff were laying out a table with sausage rolls and other, what I call, party titbits (see, there I go again with Miranda-isms). And jugs of drink and fancy flutes.

I carried on minding my own business, purchasing two gorgeous babygros for my sister's new baby (William Stanton was born two days ago and is a total peach) and seeking out vintage Ladybird books (none).

Suddenly a cake was brought out to the party titbit table. A rather swish cake. And a crowd of men in suits suddenly gathered along with lots of charity shop volunteers and a newspaper photographer. And I happened to accidentally find myself in the centre of said crowd...

 It then dawned on me that all the other customers had vanished from the shop and this party had become a more private affair.

One of the suited men walked up to me and handed me a glass of fizz and offered me some pretzels from his bowl. Obviously I accepted both graciously (free nosh/drink, never one to turn it down).

"Oooh, fab, you are a waiter for the occasion (*what occasion?*). How lovely!" I enthused with a shrill voice, laughing foolishly.

Turns out he wasn't the waiter. But of course the Chief Executive (and a rather handsome at that) of the entire charity. Who had visited the shop to celebrate its 15 years of being open.

And the party was to thank all the volunteers for all their hard work over the years.

And there I was, hobnobbing in the middle of it all in a bemused fashion, with the Chief Executive, glugging fizz, shovelling crisps and cocktail sausages down me, and panicking inwardly when I realised my error.

"So, how long have you worked here?" he asked me, with seemingly great interest.

Oh dear god. I knew the question would come. I started to sweat and suddenly felt faint.

I choked down my handful of pretzels and said, in a ridiculously high pitched voice: "Oh, well, I don't actually work here YET! Ha ha but I hope to be a volunteer soon. It's such a fab team."

All the while thinking to myself "how could I ever fit the time in? I am 80 per cent on my own with the kids, I have no cleaner, or dishwasher, no support network and have just started a course....there are barely any hours in my day to have a wee."

He commended me for offering to volunteer and excused himself to make a celebration speech to the gathering crowd. Meanwhile he'd had a brief word with the manager who came dashing over and showed her gratitude at my offering to volunteer. I have to go in next week to fill in the forms and work out when to start.......

Why does it always happen to me?

Still, looking on the bright side, I managed to spot this lush book before making a hasty retreat.

Other moments of cringe: Last week I did the school run with my dress tucked in my pants and no one told me. I passed builders, male joggers, school dads.......I could die at the thought of it.

Then last Saturday I met friends (including Kerry) in London and I made a fool of myself there too.

I overzealously took my coat off in an art exhibition and hit someone, so turned around to apologise profusely....only to discover  I was actually talking to a pillar. So embarrassing. What a doofus.

 I then ordered a "mo-jeeeeeeto" (so uncool).

The shame. Mo-jeeeeeto. No kidding.

In my defence, this was because I was distracted and not concentrating (OK because I fancied the barman).

I had earlier ordered a coffee and, thinking my friends were still standing behind me, turned round and did a silly impression of a coffee slurp and an "oooooooooh lovely" in a ridiculous accent and then realised they'd moved away to a distant table and I was talking to a total stranger who looked at me like I was nuts.

And then (and I haven't told the others this yet, as am mortified) on the way home, a lady got on the train and was doing a really crazy smile at me so I did one back, thinking we'd shared some silly joke or something.

Then I realised to my utter horror that her facial expression didn't change. And that close up, the poor woman either had had a stroke or some surgery and her face stayed in that position. I felt dreadful as would have hated her to think I'd mocked her. I spent the rest of the journey looking into my empty crisp packet (which I'd taken a hour to empty as the train was painfully quiet and my crisps were the noisiest in the world so as soon as the train driver made an announcement, I'd ram a handful in my mouth and chew them as fast as I could, until the next opportunity).

And then I nearly ended up in Eastbourne but I have no energy left to talk about it.

In other news, the Prince got himself a hair cut. He didn't move an inch for the 25 minute chop. I am so besotted with him and his gentle nature. He is placid. Unlike the Princess and I.

Oh and on a final note, who's hungry?

May I tempt you? Spotted in the window of a shop on my way to toddler group this morning.

Packed with flavour no doubt

Next week, I shall be cringe-free, it's my mission.

Fiddler

I bought this slightly odd top/dress/kaftan from Scope for a fiver this week. I knew its 70s look would either make me look hot or not.

Sadly it made me look like Mama Cass from the Mamas and the Papas. Not ideal, really.

Mind you, chubbiness aside, my legs have brought immense pleasure to someone this week. But not in a good way......

I took the kids to the library on Wednesday as I needed to get some books to help with a breastfeeding course I have started, where I'm training to be a Milk peer supporter. As I was engrossed in the books, I suddenly became aware of a little old man sitting and reading in a chair to the right of me.

I then noticed he'd stopped reading his book and was staring at my legs. How desperate, was my first thought. Then I was embarrassed at my vanity. Of course he wasn't looking at my legs. Dear god, why would he?

Then I realised he seriously WAS.

I then noticed his hand rubbing rhythmically over his crotch, under his book. He was discreet, but definitely fiddling with himself.

I shopped him to the librarian and she grabbed the manager. By this point, the man had shuffled over to the teenage girls fiction area, where two teens were innocently reading. I grabbed my kids and left by this point.

I raced home to tell the husband.

"Well, it shows you've still got it, love" came the dry response.

Maybe I should have gone in dressed like Mama Cass.

Anyway, I am excited as seeing my sister this weekend. I am leaving the husband with the kids until Sunday afternoon and cannot wait! A two hour train journey on my own! Imagine!

I am so broody and she is nearly at the end of her pregnancy. I spent Wednesday afternoon (before the library incident) cuddling my friend's new baby, who is the dearest little girl. Ah I was in heaven!

I also went to a beach a few times in the better weather this week. Had such a great time and LOVE people watching. This foursome were cute!

Loving the glittery sea

My peace is now shattered. Both kids have stormed in demanding a thousand things, so I shall leave it there, dear readers, until the next mad episode in my life.

Diggers, trucks, chips and wee........

The Prince is toilet trained but still wears a nappy at night because he can't be bothered to get up and go for a wazz. And tonight I ran out of bedtime nappies. There is no man in the house to go  and get some, just me and the kidlings so I am going to have to 'fess up.

Tonight, my poor boy has gone to bed in a swimming nappy (that offers zilch protection) and three sanitary towels. Poor devil. He may be scarred by this in future years.

He will end up waking tomorrow in his own pond of piddle, bless him.

Here he is recently with his Auntie Anna. She is due to give birth in three weeks. I am beyond excited! She looks incredible, not at all whale like (I literally was Free Willy...actually let's not talk about that, that's what got me in the whale-like state in the first place...)

Auntie Anna and her favourite nephew

Right, I am zonked tonight, but I have cherry tree treasures to show and tell, so here we go pronto, keep up if you will.

I also bought these for the Prince. £7.50 for the three when I went shopping with the ever so lovely Sarah and they were brand new in the packaging. I got home and googled them and they usually sell for £27.50 so I am very chuffed.

We hung out in Hove recently but didn't get chance to look at the charity shops. Next time, always a next time.

We hung out in the chippy though!

Never happier than when I have a greasy lap

Shame it's blurred but loving the stripes

I also picked up this for £1.50. My family and I played it when we were kids, and this is a proper vintage version.

Righty, I best get me up them stairs to see if the Prince will wee on the loo. I've already tried twice. I'm getting nervous about the state of him in the moro..................

This blog post is utter pants

So there I was this morning. In my pilates class. Enjoying an hour of peaceful serenity. When I came face to face with a skimpy thong, underneath the see-through leggings of woman in front of me.

The woman who was 70-years-old, if she was a day...

You see, I go to an OAP pilates class. It's the only one I can make in the day. I am the youngest. And the least supple, ironically. But it would now seem, not only am I the youngest (by at least 30 years) and the least supple, but I am also the proud wearer of the most unsexy pants known to humanity compared to the old dears.

While the woman in front of me was bending and stretching, her miniscule VPL began to trouble me. It was putting me off my chill time. She had one of those old lady hair styles, you know, like a brassy, blondey grey colour which she'd obviously put rollers in over night. Other than her kecks, she was like your gran, bless her.

I didn't want to think about pensioner pants. They had a saucy lacy look (I KNOW!!! I shouldn't have looked further but I was in shock). It's made me rethink about wearing my apple catchers. Perhaps women are changing and the older ones are having all the fun now. The older we get, the foxier we feel? The younger we are, the more we crochet and drink tea? Who knows. But all I know is that for the whole hour, all I was thinking about was the granny g-string and it wasn't ideal.

On my way to pilates, my fave charity shop was shut, oddly. There was a sign saying it would open at 1pm. I looked through the door and scanned the shelves and rails. I could see something poking out in the distance which looked like pretty fabric and I knew it needed further investigation.

So at 1pm the Prince and I legged it in, on our way to the library, and there in all its glory was what I'd glimpsed:

For just £3. I couldn't believe it! I was thrilled. I find Cath Kidston gorgeous but overpriced, so I felt pretty pleased with my find.

Today has been a gorgeous day. I took the kids to the beach after school.

A little caffeine hit

 Yesterday was lovely too. We stumbled across a gorgeous country pub so had a Sunday lunch in the beer garden.  It involved many calories.

I look tired here. End of the hols!

Last blow out before being good
 (ah! that's why I don't wear a thong... it would get lost)

I also drove the kids to stay with "Cuckoo" (as she is known in Blogland and Instagram) this week. We had fun, although there was drama en route when the Prince got a virus and a high temp, so I took him to an out of hours doc.

After 6.5 hours, we arrived at Cuckoo's.  We missed lunch but had a great cream tea shortly after we arrived.

L-R Bee, "Cuckoo", Kerry and moi.

We had fun although it all went way too fast.

The next day I stopped in Bath to meet my mum and sister, before heading home.

Royal Crescent (5 mins from where I used to live!)

The Princess lived in the garden flat on that high pavement behind her
(white front door) when she was born. Happy memories.

 Now I have to keep this short and sweet. I am too busy wondering who else may wear Victoria's Secret style pants once they draw their pension.

(goes off to throw out her grey saggy drawers)...

Annual loving

Come on, 'fess up. I am surely not the only person to have read Bunty comics in secret aged 16. Really? Oh. That's awkward.

All the other girls were lost in the world of Mizz and Just 17. And those Problem Pages. Involving sex, kissing with tongues and fancying your best friend's older brother, to name just a few. I seem to remember one of my friends reading a particular Just 17 problem page which featured a rude mishap with a Biro, but let's not go there.

So while just about every girl I knew was reading something in a teen mag to prepare them for future shenanigans (by the way, I  pronounce this "Shen-on-eee-gon" as if I was French and posh), I was lost in the depths of Bunty. Cut out wardrobes and tales from the Four Marys. Get in.

It became an embarrassing habit but I couldn't give it up. Every week my dad would go to the corner shop, pick up his paper, my Bunty and my brother's Beano. And I would lock myself in my room to read it and didn't tell a soul outside the family.

So imagine my pleasure when I spotted this in the Scope cherry tree shop this week.

I tell you what, I always look out for Bunty annuals and never see them. This is the only one I've ever come across.

Please someone confess to also reading it, so I don't feel like a loon.

In other news, the husband and I have been having some pleasant times together while the kids are at school and pre-school. Good chats by the sea really do wonders for the soul.

Oh and I grabbed this from another cherry tree shop this week, 50p for another cute Peter and Jane Ladybird book to add to my collection.

Here is my friend and I, in the interval of our children's choir concert. We sang along (sometimes a bit too loud) and were gushing with pride at it all. She is a diamond and we are dragging our husbands out for a curry next week. They live a few streets away from us and apparently the curry house round the corner is amazing so I am really looking forward to a laugh and a quick stroll home!

So the kids have broken up for the Easter hols and on Sunday I can trough chocolate again after 6 weeks on Lent. Never again though, same weight as when I started!

To kickstart a lovely Easter, the ever so beautiful Ashley, she of the Country Rose blog fame, came over for lunch today. I got to squidge baby Arthur and the Prince got to romance Rose.

We first meet exactly a year ago with the two delightful Sarahs or Annaboo and Shabby, as they are better know. We normally all get together but this time I am seeing them all individually and then we shall reunite with chips and a coke on the beach.

12 months ago. FLOWN BY!

Ashley's two beauties and my clingy boy.

We had such a lovely afternoon, I got masses of Arthur cuddles and now I am clucking. A lot.

My parents are arriving tomorrow for four days. On Saturday they are babysitting as the husband and I are going to celebrate 17 years together. SEVENTEEN. I can't quite believe it. We celebrate our Snogging Anniversary properly, like we celebrate our wedding anniversary. I love him more than Bunty and Bon Jovi (ish with the latter).

Dressing up a few years ago

My heart still skips a beat when he returns from work - although that's probably because I often mistake him for a burglar when I hear him crash through the door at 2am from his night shift .......

Wibble Wobble

No No No. The title of this blog post does NOT relate to the sound of my thighs as they sashay along the promenade.

How very dare you.

Indeed not. Although they probably do make some sort of sound but let's not dwell on the dulcet tones of my pins. Let's concentrate on Treasures from the Cherry Tree. You with me? Goody. Thanking you muchly.

I have bought some gorgeous glass jelly moulds and I secretly love them more than I should.

They were sitting in the cherry tree shop window and I had to have them both. It would have felt wrong to separate.

£8 for so much pleasure. The kids LOVE the wobbly goodness.

It reminds me of a joke my lovely Bampy told me as a child: "One day a little boy went to a birthday party and the host asked him what he would like to eat, once they'd sat down for the party tea. The little boy said: 'I would like a plate of that wobbly stuff please.' The host said: 'Don't call it wobbly stuff, that's rude.' And the little boy replied: 'I'd like a plate of rude please.'

Boom boom. But I seriously laughed my guts up every time he told me it. Bless that lovely man, how I miss him and his funny ways (ie calling a dinosaur a "dinner sour" as that's how he pronounced it. Oh and a "hi-fi" was pronounced differently too. Yep, he was always listening to music on his "hee fee").

So my lovely jelly moulds. I love them both dearly.

I get very attached to certain (ok, all) inanimate objects. My sister is the same and we crack up at our weird little foibles. Sometimes, if I've eaten an apple, I can't throw the core in a bin if we are in an undesirable area. I prefer to keep it and throw it in a field. Where it will be....errr... happy.

Hmmmmm. Wonder how many readers I just lost. The Husband thinks I am nuts, but my sister agrees with me (she does the same). We are just caring. And how do we all know apples DON'T have feelings? We don't know for sure.

Moving on......unless you're gagging to see more jelly mould pics. There are more. Believe me.

This time last week I had two of my neighbours over for a quiet drink or two - we had such a blast. Suddenly it was 2.15am and we were all absolutely blottoed. Felt a bit bad when the Princess came down at 1am, scolding us and telling us to be quiet!

This was after about 80 takes..........

The Husband came in from work at 1am and we turned out all the lights and kept quiet. When he walked into the living room, we shrieked with mirth and I actually thought he'd gone into shock. Never seen him look so stunned. At the sight of three wild women with mad hair, he quickly made his excuses and exited to bed. Oh the hilarity. #childish

Wrecked. Spesh her in the middle. Ha!

Mind you, I went to bed already hungover, which didn't bode well for the morning. And indeed, last Saturday was a wipe out. Mother of all Headaches chose me as her victim! So this weekend is going to be calm and cleansing.

In other news, the Prince took part in his Easter bonnet parade today. Just brilliant.


He sauntered around like some catwalk male model, hand casually in pocket, sweeping his way across the floor, working it totally. GAGGING to put the pic on but I can't because other kids are right next to him and the pre school policy doesn't allow it. Fair enough.

But I can post this one. A pic for his 18th party me thinks. How he will love me. His eye is healing after the shenanigans of crashing into furniture and being rushed to A&E, by the way. Can't remember if I mentioned it in my last blog. Think I did.

Mind you, we bumped into my next door neighbour in Lidl this week (not one of the drunken girls above, but another one who stayed into the early hours when we hosted dinner) and he climbed onto the side of her trolley (I was choosing something so my back was turned...I will obviously never learn). The next thing I heard was a giant crashing sound. He'd pulled the trolley over, it tipped on top of him and ALL the food fell out (also on top of him).

 You literally couldn't make it up. Much screaming, Lidl staff racing over mildly panicking that we may sue over a broken leg. Bruised and battered but fine. Need to wrap an extra layer of cotton wool around him I think.

A man came up to me, moments after, and said: "That was bad. But it could have been worse. I have been through worse. I've travelled to seven countries. I've seen a gun."

I was like "Byeeeeee" and exited swiftly.

Been busy on the work front. Lots of new job offers too which is brilliant. I just need more hours in my day. And on that front I am heading for a bath with a lovely new magazine.

Tis the simple pleasures.

Ladybird Ladybird Fly to My Home

I've done four weeks of Lent. Lent Schment. Not lost any weight at all. At all. Not an ounce. Yet not one biscuit, cake, chocolate or sweet has touched my lips in a month. In fact the only pounds I've lost are in the cherry tree shops.

It's been a good week on that front. I found SEVEN Ladybird books in one shop yesterday on the way to toddler group. I practically squealed when I walked past and saw them in a box in the window. (Tell a lie, I actually DID squeal but didn't want you to think I am barmy...)

I raced in, all breathless (can Ladybird books actually bring on an asthma attack?)

"Sandra!" I gasped, as I know the staff in Scope now and they see probably me more than they see their own families.

I reminded her of my leetle obsession and she grabbed me the box, in case someone beat me to it. I had all the other books in there already but I am over the moon with the seven I found.

Didn't feel like the best mum in the world yesterday #shoutyshouty

I even bought the Princess and the Frog, which I'd actually bought a couple of months ago while shopping with Sarah but the cover was slightly different and the one I found yesterday is the one I really wanted although the cover is battered and drawn over by its previous owner.

Bad boy Dominic......

Then my heart broke.

Sandra said: "Course there were masses more Ladybird books in there, but someone came in ten minutes ago and bought a load."

Imagine. It's the equivalent of someone buying all the shoes in some bargainous sale and leaving you with the last few they didn't want.

I started thinking about all the ones that could have been mine. But since then, I have manned up and moved on.

I have also bought a couple of other things which I will blog about another time. I am running out of blogging minutes as have two neighbour friends coming over tonight for some glasses of pink fizz and want to get the house straight (which always takes longer than I think).

We are fortunate to have brilliant neighbours who we get on well with (we weren't so lucky in the past). We have dinner with the ones next door and then I'm friends with two girls around the corner so tonight should be a giggle.

The Prince and Princess have Sweetie Friday each week. We spend an age in Tesco while they panic over what to choose and then opt for the same choice each week. The Princess ALWAYS has Fruit Pastilles or Shoe Strings and the Prince loves Skittles. I also treat the Princess to a magazine of her choice once a month (makes her behave well!).

Moshi Monsters mag.

I believe these things should be an indulgence and not a habit, otherwise things aren't appreciated. I try to live by the same rules (unless it involves Ladybird books).

And so tonight we can watch Comic Relief and guffaw and cry all rolled into one. The Princess had to wear red to school today and looked cute and very much like Annie, much to her disgust, when it was pointed out!

"Tooooooomorrow, tomorrow...."

Looking forward to a quiet weekend. We are usually so busy and often have people staying (our families aren't local) so this weekend will be en famille, just us four.

Other things: here are some of my Mother's Day roses still going strong. They have a very delicate scent. I love roses - can you tell?!

The other exciting thing to happen is that we got snowed in on Tuesday. The snow came down thick and fast. All the schools shut and we played in the snow and had snowball fights with our neighbours.

The kids in their cherry tree shop hats behind a REAL snowdrift!

Very confusing for the poor daffs!

And that's it for tonight. I shall return soon with other nice cherry tree treasures!