Food for Thought

If we are depressed when we suffer from depression, does it mean we are recessed when we suffer from recession?

DAY TWO IN THE BIG BROTHER, LITTLE BROTHER, INSANE MOTHER, HOUSE

Day 2. It is still snowing and the housemates are becoming restless. The resident artist is finding it hard to concentrate and his mood is becoming erratic and rather grumpy. Insane Mother is planning some silent tasks to keep housemates' spirits up: Silent eating tasks, Silent watching back-to-back dvd's for 6 hours, Silent writing thank you letters for Christmas presents, and finally, as a special treat, Silent going to the supermarket with Insane Mother. New housemates may be brought in at any time, but Insane Mother will not confirm rumours that Katie Price aka Jordan is one of them. Blizzarding now ............................................................ Tune in later for regular updates.

I Take It All Back

I take it all back - teachers are angels and deserve their 12 weeks off, and more besides. I know I have had a slight turnaround on my previous views, but with good reason. Last week I graciously offered my services as Classroom Assistant in my 5 year old's class, thinking it would be a pleasant change from my normal daily grind - oh, how wrong could I be!
If I thought it was hard enough coping with one five year old, I was little prepared for a whole class of them, all talking and asking me questions and wanting my attention and being irritating - all at once. The apparently 12 year old teacher just breezed through it all, while I was left wondering at what point I thought being a primary school teacher was comparable with being a food-taster for Marks and Spencers. The idea of getting paid for something so easy, such fun! But now I know better, and I am a big enough person to admit when I am wrong (just ask my partner - actually, don't). I know when my opinions are misguided or slightly off balance. And so I take it all back. They deserve their holidays and their training days - they deserve them all. They are saints, they really are. And I expect the valium helps too.....

Enough Already

That’s it! I’ve had enough, I’m downing tools and going on strike. Why? Well why not?
Ok, if you want a reason, I’ll give you a reason.
It’s the teachers; well perhaps not necessarily the teachers themselves as such, but the unions, the government or whoever the bloody hell decided that 12 weeks paid holiday is just not enough. I know I’m ranting and not being my usual clear and concise self, but I’m just so angry. I can hardly string my pumpkin lights up, let alone a sentence.

Oh those poor overworked and undervalued teachers. Six week summer holidays are not enough, give them another week off to recover from the last six weeks. Oh, but hang on, we need to train them so they’ll able to teach our offspring even better. Give them another day off and add it on to the half-term holiday – no-one will notice. Oh and while we’re at it, give them another few weeks off in December and a day or two in January – we’ll call it the Christmas holiday – we’ll all be too busy watching telly and shopping and cooking and eating and looking after our kids to catch on. Tag another day on for good measure, they can call it a special team-building/ training/ educational/ new government initiative. We’re bound to swallow it. What? What’s that I hear them say? You want us have our staff parties during the holidays? Stop it right now. How dare you imply that we’re onto a good thing, that we’re taking the proverbial? Don’t we deserve a little bit of time off? To recharge our batteries so we can give our ‘all’, to your precious darlings? Surely you don’t begrudge us that? Too bloody right, I do.

Enough’s enough, I say. Parents unite, I urge you all. It’s time to say no. Let them have their 12 week holidays if they must, but that’s all they’re getting, that is more than enough. I, for one am exhausted with it all. I think I’ll go on strike for a day, just so I can put my feet up. Perhaps I’ll sit by the computer and pretend to look busy while I google rug clearance sales in the Outer Hebrides? Or perhaps I’ll just have a training day – now that does sound like a plan …..

Diary of A Desperate Mother of A Teenage Son

Yes, I have adopted a new title this week. Sounds a little over the top? A bit dramatic? Perhaps. And yet true. So true ..... I just don't understand how my lovely, sweet and caring little boy has turned into a glaring, moody, overly sensitive, snotty, rude, obnoxious teenager overnight. Did I blink and miss something? Certainly there was nothing about this developmental stage in the "What to expect when you're expecting" book. I'm sure I would have remembered if there was. No, this stage was definitely not mentioned in any books I read. So what do I do? As a jewish mother my natural instinct is to feed him. And perhaps this will show him that in spite of his hormonal mood swings and muttering complaints that I am 'the bitch-mother from hell for not letting him spend 6 hours a day flitting between Play Station and MSN', that I still love him and know that deep down, buried beneath the raging hormones and witch hazel spot treatement, is that lovely, sweet and caring man/boy who is yet to emerge, like the butterfly who emerges from its chrysalis, no longer the repugnant, hairy caterpillar .... but something magnificent and magical (who makes it's own bed, smiles without being told to and doesn't leave rotting bananas in it's school bag with any luck)

Diary of A Norfolk Broad (or Chow Mein and Chappatis)

Inspired by "Julie and Julia", the new film in which Julie Powell sets herself the challenge to cook all 524 recipes from the French cookery book by Julia Child in just one year, I have decided to go one step further.
Whilst perusing my chinese takeaway menu last night, I was thrilled to discover that including the chef's specials, there are 169 dishes. However, add the 260 on the indian takeaway menu which do not include the recommended Chef's special set meals, nor the lamb tikka passanda which I found very disappointing, but does allow for the sundries, and my goodness, we are up to 429!
Therefore, it would be possible to have one takeaway dish per day for an entire year, plus 64 to spare unless its a Leap Year, which is good, because, let's face it, a dish of crispy seaweed (which technically isn't seaweed at all but deep-fried shredded cabbage) is not going to make a very substantial meal at all. So with those 64 spare dishes to choose from to supplement numbers 1-17 in the appetisers section particularly (I do hope you are still following, or have you given up the will to live yet?) I should be alright. Phew.
You can see where all this is going, can't you? Absolutely - right on my already ample buttocks. Now, I wonder who's going to want to make a film about that?......

The New 'Man' In My Life Part Two

Of course, like any new relationship it wasn’t all plain sailing. He clearly felt that he wasn’t getting all the attention he deserved, and would peck my ear to tell me so, and in return I wasn’t altogether comfortable with him pooing on my shoulder, but after several weeks we reached that point where we were just happy in each other’s company, albeit in the confines of the garden shed. But in spite of our mutual affection, I knew that it was just a summer romance and inevitably could never be anything more than just that.
Jack was a free spirit, and as much as I could see the affection in his little beady eyes, I loved him too much to keep him a prisoner. It was never going to be easy, letting go, but in the end it was the right thing to do.
There will always be a special place in my heart for Jack, but he is now with a new woman; Diane. It is her shoulder on which Jack will poo for the next few months, her ear he will nibble affectionately, and from her aviary that he will eventually fly to freedom, and live the life of the magnificent Jackdaw that he surely is.

The End