*Dons Oscar Dress, falls over Jen Lawrence style and grabs a tissue to do a Gwyneth* It seems you lot are bloody epic and ace actually, and I want to say a Massive mammoth THANK YOU to all you guys who kindly voted for me in this years Brilliance in Blogging awards. As a result of you all being Legends, I am shortlisted in the “Social” Category. Which now means next time Elder moans about me giving my opinions (wanted or otherwise) on Twitter, Facebook and the like, I can go all fingers in ears and Nah Nah Nah at him and point to the shortlist. See, its worth being a moany old rant fueled biatch sometimes! And Instagramming everything I eat, see and do.
Of course, I am over the moon and shocked to be in the Shortlist, but if you would like to see me in the Final, possibly slightly tipsy and laughing like a nutter, then I need you to do your thing again! I am up against some fantastic fellow folk so I don’t expect to win at all, just to be mentioned is lovely, and makes it all worthwhile, but if you would like to vote for me some more I will love you forever and ever and buy you a large G&T at Britmums Live. You can vote here for me and for some amazingly great other people too, so feel free to go on over and see who else is through, the voting bit is a click through at the bottom. Well done to my fellow shortlisters, I am in some excellent company so Good luck, and thank you all loads 🙂
Yes, readers, that is quite the title for a blog post isn’t it? However, this was a point of view which I relayed to Elder yesterday on returning from a Bootfair in Windsor. I have to own up here and admit that I don’t hold a licence to drive. I wish I did, but in Kent I never got around to it, and here, well, I actually think you deserve danger money paid to you rather than paying Road Tax, such is the nuttiness of a large percentage of drivers in the Berks and Bucks region (or those we have visited). I am simply too scared. Without fail, at least twice a day, and more on weekends, some utter twonk near on takes our car out. Its almost like the population of my area and the surrounding play GTA and forget that, once they’ve put down the X Box, and gotten in a real life car that GTA rules do not apply. Take for instance the dual carriageway we happened to be driving calmly along when I made my comment regards the standard of driving. Now I’m no expert, but if you see vehicles coming at you, and you are cycling towards them, you are going the wrong bloody way, and should, at your soonest convenience, get your bike on the right side of the road. After all, crappy bike, plus cars coming at 40mph with no where to swerve to avoid you will not end well. And a hoodie does not count as suitable head gear for this type of fool hardy endeavor.
Another Berks Ignorant Driver favorite is the ability to not know that a white line at a junction before a turning or roundabout means to stop until it is safe to proceed, or until oncoming traffic with right of way ceases to be an issue. Not so in Berkshire (and Slough- Slough is ridiculously dangerous to drive in). It simply means that, should your car be bigger than anyone else’s, or should you decide you can’t be arsed to wait until its safe, the white line magically disappears and you can pull out like its a scene from Wacky Races. (This also happened yesterday on the other side of the same dual carriageway on the way to the Bootfair). As for parking, that’s the ultimate in fun/danger for all involved in more ways than one. There’s not many places in town, so parking is a premium, and it shows. Just this weekend on Saturday, we waited patiently (you know, like a normal person) to park in a space that another driver was leaving. She was making a faff of it so we sat for about 2 minutes. With the indicator flashing. It was pretty obvious to most what Elder was doing. Or so you’d have thought. Except just as the driver was moving off and Elder was moving to go into the space, a flipping oxygen stealing middle classer with sunglasses on (on a rainy day) decided to try and ram us off the road, and slotted straight into the space we’d waited for. Dear reader, I was livid, and my inner Chatham Injustice person came out. I remonstrated with this ignorant tart- after all, it was justified seen as she nearly drove into my back passenger side where Littlest was sitting, scaring the pants off the boy, and she did not look amused. Or not as amused as Mini who found Mummy winding a window down and calling this bitch my full arsenal of colourful and choice names highly amusing. Or there is the time when we were happily driving in the at the time new Mini through Slough, when suddenly out of nowhere a van decided to pull out and nearly rammed us over into on coming traffic (we were stuck in a traffic jam, so clearly he was so busy he didn’t feel we should stop like everyone else who was unable to do anything other than crawl along the road he wanted to join). We also had the time when Elder was just getting back in the car in a space in a local carpark (the one I got run over in), and from nowhere a woman managed to drive into him. When he was stationary, with the engine off, in a space. The school run is an education in why everyone of every race should be required to hold a British Licence and renew it every 10 years. I know there are alot of tired parents on the road of a morning, but it doesn’t excuse the kind of twattish behavior that is rife at our school. Parking on a corner into the road? Speeding? Pulling up in the middle of the road for ten minutes rather than parking? Pulling up onto the actual kerb with the front of your car in front of two Mums and buggies at speed with no warning whilst the back juts into the road? All there to be observed and remarked on with spluttering disbelief.
Yes, that really did happen, in front of us
As for Cash for smash? I don’t even think that started as a money making, fraudulent scheme, just a case that so many prangs happened and so much cash was forthcoming that it became an artform to be a lazy, reprehensibly bad driver, kind of like winning the lottery without buying a ticket. I could go on, but just take it from me, driving in Berkshire will get you carted off to the funny farm, swearing in shock and disbelief or simply giving up the idea of driving full stop. I’m off to buy a Train Pass for the duration.
Of course, the Easter Break started last Friday (hence the quiet on the page here) and it brings two weeks of trying to work out what on earth to do with two fussy Brats when the weather is crap, you are looking for a new house to move to and are skint (or not skint, more saving furiously to pay for aforementioned move).
On Monday, I spotted a thread on a local Gossip group regards Queen Elizabeth and a State Visit. Despite living in Maidenhead for 6 years now, and Windsor being about 10 minutes away, we have never been over during a State Visit or a Changing of the Guard. I’ve been Charity Shop scouring but that’s it.
However, Mini is now an avid reader- including reading over my shoulder when I’m on the PC. This is not good in most cases. Anyone who has written me on Facebook or Twitter knows I like a good curse word like the Celt I am (partly. Cough) and I do subscribe to some quite sarcastic and adult of humor groups on Facebook too.
This time was fine though.
Mini loves the Royals even more than your friendly neighbourhood pensioner, she fell in love the second she saw Kate in her wedding dress and has not stopped since. On seeing that the Queen herself was riding through Windsor, on a day when she was off school well, that could only be seconded by the slim chance of her finding out Harry Styles was in our local Waitrose- she needed to be there.
I was told that the Queen, Charles, Camilla and Phillip (who as an aside, Elder swears blind once gave him a lift to get petrol when he ran out in Windsor Great park one early morning many moons ago) would go past at 11am, so we should definitely get there before 10am to avoid being lost in the crush.
We were all going to go, but as he seems to be doing more of recently, Littlest decided he didn’t want to get dressed, get his teeth washed, or do a thing he was told, so Mini and I left at 9.45 to get the train. Cutting it fine but I thought most of it is the atmosphere and I’d either hoist her onto my shoulders or we’d make use of her angelic face to get to the front.
We had to change at Slough, and eventually ran from Windsor station to the High Street at 10.45. I was quite surprised that one side of the road was packed, but the other, on the side of the Castle, was pretty fine for space, so we hopped across the road and took up position between a couple from Maidenhead, and a group of Americans.
By 11am, we were looking around for signs of activity, but there were none. It was also getting pretty overcast too, and we had dresses on- it was boiling in Maidenhead but flipping freezing in Windsor.
At 11.15, I was getting more concerned, Mini was getting bored, and she was shivering. The Maidenhead lady remarked that this was an error she made the first time she had come over to watch the Queen (from the comfort of her stool and her blanket), as its like a wind tunnel. She also said the Queen wasn’t late but was passing through at 12.30.
At this point, with Mini getting colder and colder, and thus bored, I thought, as we had over an hour, we’d run across to H&M and grab a pair of jeans and a jumper for her.
Except the Police had closed the barrier. We were trapped.
At about 11.30, we were treated to a marching band, which cheered Mini up a little, but she was o cold bless her.
By the time the Queen went past (twice- once in her car, then in her carriage), Mini was lying on a bench, cold, miserable, tired and having borrowed a blanket from a kind OAP.
Luckily, a lovely Police officer walked past and saw her, asking how long we’d waited, and on hearing what had happened, he opened the barrier for us, giving us an escort into McDonalds for hot chocolate. He told Mini if anyone moaned, as she as pretty, he’d tell them she was a relative of Kate, which cheered her up no end.
With a hot chocolate inside, she was much happier, so we had a wander round the shops, then off home.
Yesterday was her seventh Birthday, which she has been excited about. We have things planned for the weekend so it was spent with us at home, (we’re off to London on Sunday), but she did very well.
She was lucky enough to receive a scooter (she outgrew her last one at the end of the summer, and this time we had to buy one for age 9-12 as she’s so tall), a RoboPuppy (annoying thing but teaches her maths on the sly) and a Badge It set (instant utter love as she adores crafty things). We went into town and had a coffee shop lemonade, and, after asking what she’d like as a little present, she bought herself a magazine with nil polish in it, and bought a lovely small bunch of flowers.
We had a home made cake (which she helped Ice) and a birthday tea of her fave foods.
A lovely quiet day but she was very happy and snuggled on the sofa in the evening.
I shall report back on our jaunt to London (her first outside of a buggy) and our thoughts on the Museum of Childhood on Monday.
Did you see the much hyped second debate between Lib Dem/Conservative Tea Boy Nick “Fame Seeker” Clegg and Nigel “Friendly Face of Racism and Sexism” Farage? Those in the know are suggesting that Farage basically walked it, making Clegg look silly and lacking in any knowledge of what us, the electorate, want from Europe, and our continued place within it. There was much of the expected usual fayre, with both men resembling two toddlers having a ruck- accusations of lying being the main point from both. The thing is, I don’t particularly like any of them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m even less of a fan of Smugron and his Tory Eton Old Boys Club party, but I can’t help think that it wasn’t so much a win for Farage, but a case of most sensible, and former Lib Dem supporters, hating Clegg with a passion. Why? If you ask me, Clegg kind of resembles the kind of act you see on X Factor. You know the one, it happens every year. You get a band of spotty oiks, who have limited talent jump on stage, fronted by someone who is actually quite good (especially when backed by the less talented ones). They sit outside talking to Dermot, about how they have been through so much together, how they are like family and no chance of fame and fortune will ever rip them apart. They are tight, they believe in each other and all they stand for. Then, they walked out on stage, and of course, the quite talented one gets told to ditch their scruples and go out on their own to seek fame. They may even get told to join a bunch of other, supposedly talented folk. It then all goes wrong and they go out in week 3 as they weren’t that talented after all, to be shunned by their mates. How is Clegg like this, I hear you ask? Well, think about it. The Lib Dems have long been the third party. They had definite policies of being the party of the student, the disillusioned. My own parents voted for them. We always had a Lib Dem sign in our window come election time. Then, Clegg got a bit bored of being in this party of losers, and on being told by Smugron that together they could lead the country, he jumped in with a party who are their polar opposite. Straight away, all his promises, to support students against plans to bring in Fees went out the window. He chased fame and gave up everything he believed in. Now, it’s all going wrong, and whilst most of us are not fans of Smugron, he’s just performing to type- greedy Tory who is only interested in his rich buddies and what they want- all of us who used to seek refuge with the Lib Dems are jumping ship. Farage and his UKIP (BNP Lite for the Middle Classes) party of EU haters are no doubt going to hold the power if we get a hung parliament again. As for the Lib Dems, well, they’re losing seats left right and Middle England to even wacky independent parties, such is the drive to ditch them. Who will end up worse off as a result of the ConDem experiment? Without doubt the Lib Dems and Clegg. Even Smugron is distancing himself from Clegg- when asked on BBC Breakfast who he thought had won the debate his answer was not to support Clegg but to remark he didn’t have anyone in the race. Clegg is about to find out what happens when you ditch your mates in favour of fame. Its a very lonely place out there Nick.
Mini, as most know by now, is a bit of a diva. Kind of like an X Factor wannabe mixed with a theatre school kid, but with added confidence to boot. So, being given a good part in the schools year 2 play was a dream come true, which could only ever be seconded by the possibility of snogging the girly looking one from One Direction. Mini was chosen to play the Rainbow in a play called The Wonderful World of Weather, and had a couple of lines at the end of the play, along with, as we thought, singing “I Can Sing a Rainbow” with her class. We went to see the performance on Monday afternoon, Mini had a rotten sore throat all weekend and Monday morning, so she was a bit nervy that her voice might go but she went to school regardless and we had told her to do her best, as always.
Mini on the left with her bestie friend “O”
Well, the play was great, every kid in the entire class had a part to play, the scenery had been made by one of classroom assistants and her family, and the costumes by another (although Mini made her own out of a stripey Monsoon dress and raiding my bangles box for colourful bead bracelets), and they were all weather related and very convincing. It has to be said, I’ve watched her class grow from timid, tiny 4 year olds to the confident, funny 7 year olds they are now, and every one of them got their lines spot on. Special mention has to go to two lads who danced to “Hot, Hot, Hot” and “Ice, Ice Baby” as they were utterly hilarious and seemed to dance in a more exaggerated fashion the more us adults laughed. The use of songs met with Elder’s approval too, with Bob Dylan, Johnny Nash and songs from Mary Poppins and Singing in the Rain featuring. Soon, it was he finale, with Mini front and centre on the stage. She nailed it (yes, I’m biased of course, but there was barely a hint of nerves or croaky throat to hear), and we got a surprise as the first bit of her song she sang on her own. She lapped up the applause, bowing as she went back to her seat. She sang so clear and despite sometimes singing a bit too high pitched (I’m forever telling her to sing low enough that adults and not just dogs can hear her), she was bang on pitch. She even managed to critique herself, watching the video back, that she was slightly ahead of the backing tape. All in all, it was emotional, and I’m very pleased that this year she wasn’t hidden at the back. I think we may have to find out about drama clubs in the area as she seems to have no fear when it comes to singing and dancing like a loon. She has far more confidence than I ever did at that age (or after) and I do think its something she wants to pursue herself. I am one very proud Mummy, that’s for sure.
The Lazy Girl's Guide to Life 