He is dishy, of course. But that misleading title belongs to a little diatribe all about my man and his relationship with our dishwasher.
If you've ever read the first ever blog post I wrote - written back in the days when blogs hadn't been invented yet (1996), but published here on this blog in 2007 - you'll see that the washing machine and my husband don't see eye to eye. That relationship deteriorated to the point that he was banned from touching it before we were even married. I'd be surprised if he even knew where it was these days.
The washing machine might be out of the picture, but the dishwasher has struggled on, trying desperately to please. It's never been a good relationship, but he's never managed to flood a neighbour's kitchen with it, which is always a plus...
The title of this post has nothing to do with anything really. I just had a sudden visual of what might be lurking under the pile of toys and dirty sheets that need clearing up/washing in the back room. Really, it CAN'T be old pizza crusts. I don't even let them eat in there. Well, I do sometimes - but not pizza. Oh God, could there really be old pizza crusts in the laundry pile?So it's now the Easter holiday. Two weeks off school for recuperating and relaxing. That's the kids - but not the adults. I'll be needing that...
I learnt a new phrase the other day, when someone noted that they'd just learnt what a certain acronym meant. I hadn't even noticed it in use before this person mentioned it.The acronym is FML, and apparently the meaning is "Fuck my Life.". I'm sorry mum, there really was no alternative translation for that. It's not like WTF? Which has the gentler version of WTH? which still manages to convey the same spirit.(But do note that I did try and get it into the second paragraph so that you wouldn't have to see a swear word on facebook, so you...
As you may know already, I am in love with my iphone. Everything that a girl could want to do can be done on it. And when I say everything, I really mean it. But this post isn't about the "massager app".It's about controlling my children.[Segue] Oh God, don't you wish there really WAS an app for that? Like a children remote. It would be like the guy running about in "Aliens in the Attic" under the control of the alien remote which had my kids in hysterics. Left, right, straight ahead. Pick up knickers. Pick up toys. Put toys away....
I don't do resolutions. Well that's a sort of lie, what I actually do is make resolutions every month. And always the same ones. And I almost, but not quite manage to keep them.Although mostly it's closer to not.So I don't intend to make any new year's resolutions for 2010. If I can't live up to them on a monthly basis, then a whole year's worth would be far too demoralising.And by the way, how are you pronouncing that? Twenty ten, or two thousand and ten? For me the former sounds weird, but when you compare how we've vernaculised the...
Picture this... A flickering fire low in the fireplace. The glimmer reflected in the baubles swinging gently on the tree, and perched on the edge of the over stuffed armchair, glass of sherry in hand sits Santa. His ruddy face houses eyes of blue that twinkle in the firelight as he inspects a mince pie - lovingly left out for him by the children of the house. But the picture is kinda scewed. Lets try again. A flickering fire low in the fireplace. The glimmer reflected in the baubles swinging gently on the tree, and perched on the edge...
What I've loved most about driving around Sydney this christmas is the wonderful greenness of it all. There is an obvious difference between the green of Sydney, and the green of London, although it took me a while to put my finger on it. It's a subtle hue. The green shifts into a blueish (eucalyptic) hue and also a dusty khaki hue which is uniquely australian. Despite there not being enough water most of the time, the bushland around here looks vibrant and glossy. And the other thing I love, and have realised is the signature of Australia for me -...
I am finding myself in an increasingly intriguing position in life, in that I've started to feel a bit like an alien in my own land. It's my own fault, of course. It's a kind of karmetic payback for going to England and forgetting to come home. For raising pommie children, losing my accent and saying Yog-et instead of Yo-gert. It's not the people that I feel out of odds with - they are the same old generous, leathery populace that was here when I left - with the addition here and there of more sun hats and UV t-shirts...
Remembrance day has been and gone, but I don't see anything wrong with talking about it on any other day of the year, because to be honest - it's one of those things that people seem to forget until it's that one day of the year. And it's not the only thing that people forget, respect as a whole attitude seems to get the short shrift too. I was sitting in the waiting room of my chiropractor the other day, and I was leafing through the "News Shopper" - our local free rag. It's a rivetting read, but the...
Today was a day to get things done. The to-do list was almost a flow chart, and and an overflowing one at that. There were two main categories into which all others fell. The first one was "Pack bag for hospital". The second, however was far more important. And that was "Clean house to Mother-in-law standard". As you can imagine, with such a vastly important pair of activities already listed, there should be no room for anything else on the agenda. That's why I spent most of the day mucking about in nervous apprehension of what tomorrow brings, and...
Yesterday I did one of those things that betray the jumbled mess that is my mind, despite all outward appearances. Having dried and dressed two children after their swimming lessons, rolled up the towels and co-ordinated the wet stuff into the bag, I then walked out of the sports centre, across the junction and down the road with my two children, while still wearing the plastic blue overshoes from the poolside. Our sports centre has a no shoes rule in the changing rooms. You need to either discard your shoes or cover them in blue shower caps. The look is...
