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fj_warren [userpic]

An Instinct Short.

November 29th, 2016 (12:26 pm)

There's an article in the news about parents having to pay to go to see their child's nativity play so that the school can use the money to purchase education equipment. The parents are in uproar! Casting my mind back to the horrors of school nativity plays I would have cheerfully stumped up the money not to have to sit through one (or any of them)!

When the beloved Sproglet was made the Virgin Mary for one of those plays her mother had to make her costume!!! Ok - not that difficult. Some other parent supplied the doll for the Baby Jesus. Not only did said doll look like something Popeye had sired but its anatomy had taken a bit of a battering. Subsequently, the Virgin Mary shuffled on to the stage in an outfit that was at least two sizes too big for her (I never said I was a good dressmaker)!! and slumped onto a chair whilst hanging on to the doll for dear life. At this point Baby Jesus lost his head. There was a loud thump as his head hit the stage followed by more thumps as it rolled off it and then proceeded to roll across the floor. One member of the audience corpsed - I won't say who but I imagine you can guess which parent let the side down! Joseph, poor lamb, had one helluva speech impediment and . . . none of us laughed. We just sat there waiting for him to get: "is there any room in the inn?" out. When the shepherds arrived the small one on the end was almost in the wings and off the stage. He scratched continuously and not only that the poor thing had a . . . bit of an aroma shall we say! So you had two other shepherds, three kings, one angel and a distraught husband all trying to speak and/or holding their noses or trying not to breathe. I'm proud to say small Sproglet took all this in her stride and gamely continued giving the impression of a small child hanging on to a doll ((and its head) as if it was a rugby ball and turning a blind eye (and nose) to the third shepherd! The play finished with a rendition of 'Away in a Manger' sung by a motley crew of unmusical children. It brought tears to my eyes . . . for all the wrong reasons.

There were so many concerts - I've tried to forget the agony of most of them but in my latter years I've come to the conclusion that my maternal instinct is decidedly off kilter or, possibly, missing altogether! Most parents would have been pleased as punch to see their little lambs providing entertainment for them where as I hated these events with a passion.

fj_warren [userpic]

I'm still used to it!

October 27th, 2016 (03:36 pm)

current mood: relieved

Just spent the last half an hour pushing a large truck around the yard with Mr W. The last bit I had to do on my own as Mr W was in the driver's seat so he could steer the vehicle where he wanted it to go! Normal day really!

I'm not nicknamed Popeye for nothing you know! Mr W, dear of him, did ask if I was alright after I pushed him and the vehicle over some rough ground and into its parking slot. Perhaps the sight of me almost on my knees and puffing and panting a bit gave him a clue as to how I was feeling!

fj_warren [userpic]

I'm used to it!

October 27th, 2016 (12:27 pm)

current mood: calm

Earlier this morning and the door to the house flies open and Mr W announces (again): "I've cut myself! Only some skin missing and it's bleeding quite badly but you can fix that up." I sigh but . . . I can, I do and I did. The trouble is Mr W is a mechanic and you get presented with a bloodied hand (usually it's the hand) which is also covered in oil and dirt. Those lovely adverts where they swab a tiny cut which is enviably clean and miniscule pales into insignificance when presented with whatever Mr W manages to do to himself! I think the worst (look away now if you have squeamish sensibilities) was when he managed to cut himself so thoroughly that he exposed the bone and was bleeding profusely at the same time. Oil, dirt, blood and bits of jagged skin everywhere and me trying to (1) clean the wound (2) re-apply bits of hanging skin (3) apply antiseptic cream plus plaster and bandage. I succeeded but my suggestion of getting some stitches in it was laughed to scorn so he was back at work before the plaster had a chance to stick.

I must be good at this nursing lark because I've been called in to assist my neighbour, my sister's husband drove her all the way here because she needed me to repair her cut and bloodied hand and Mr W manages to cut himself on a regular basis so I seems to be always patching somebody or other up so they can (a) go back to work (Mr W) (b) have a cup of tea (neighbour) or (c) faint (sister).

Why is it then if I cut myself I'm expected to sort myself out? Mr W's face resembles someone watching a horror film if he catches sight of the smallest of cuts on my hand, the neighbour coughs polity and disappears and my sister . . . well she faints at the sight of blood!

Mr W has just demolished a plate of food so is obviously suffering no ill effects from his injuries from this morning!

fj_warren [userpic]

Where are my snow boots?

October 27th, 2016 (10:23 am)

current mood: excited

Everyone I meet is telling me it's going to be a cold winter! I love cold winters - the really dry and frosty ones for the simple reason my joints don't ache so much! Yay! When it's damp and dismal I have been known to creak when I walk but ice and snow are brilliant. The bonus is I get to wear all the crafty stuff I've spent the damp and wet rest of the year making. Of course, slipping on the ice and falling on your rear is not up there with the not to be missed seasonal joy moments! Hence the search for the snow boots!

fj_warren [userpic]

Slowly sinking!

October 19th, 2016 (11:12 am)

current mood: contemplative

It's that time of year again so I'm making goodies like mad. The latest adventure involves turning bracelets into Christmas ornaments. I got the idea over a cup of coffee at 5.00 a.m. about a month ago. It's a funny thing but my brain goes into overdrive during the early hours and that's when I get my best ideas for patterns and designs. Hence the three baby cot blankets and the twenty baby beanies that I've made using a pattern I made up whilst listening to the early morning news on the radio. The only trouble is . . . I'm too lazy to write the patterns down so have to re-read my stitches to work out what I did to make the original item. Idiot!

A friend of mine, who is also a knitaholic turned up at my sister's with a pair of gloves - one unfinished. Her problem was that she had added bits of a ball of wool to produce different coloured fingers to aforementioned gloves and had run out. Having no idea what the wool was that she had run out of she tracked me down because, loud trumpet blowing, she said I was the only person she knew who would be able to identify the wool. Not only did I identify it but I managed to find the same wool from amongst the vast amounts of wool I have!! Isn't that frightening?

Before you all write me off as a complete moppet I would like to point out that at one stage in my life I spoke and wrote very good French, managed to read a book a day and could do crossword puzzles with ease. Sad isn't it? Sometimes I wonder if I've turned myself into a vegetable . . . but with fluffy edges (crochet and knitted ones of course)!

fj_warren [userpic]

Gaggled again!

October 17th, 2016 (02:49 pm)

current mood: blah

I've been away and when I got back Mr W had very kindly gone around with the waste oil can and applied copious amounts of the aforementioned liquid to various items that I come into contact with on a regular basis! Not only do bolts and handles now move with ease, if not to say supersonic speed, but they are extremely oily and the oil gets on to me and my clothes. I've learned not to say anything because applying waste oil to all sorts of places and implements is up there with the joy of winning the lottery for Mr W.

fj_warren [userpic]


September 16th, 2016 (04:50 pm)

current mood: frustrated

Busy making baby beanies hats last week. Two of them ended up with a first time mum but the baby is very small so the new born size hats are too big. My sister, who wanted the hats for a friend's daughter, visits every Friday morning and told me they were too big then - she's had them for over a week and knew they were too big about three days ago! Out with the baby doll pattern books, altered the design as I was knitting and in one and a quarter hours had produced another hat which my sister took home with her. No doubt I'll find out if it is the right size next Friday!

"You're a fast knitter so I knew you could do it," my sister remarked smugly! Yes I can knit quickly but I didn't expect to spend my Friday morning having to knit like the clappers because - "It would be nice if you could knock one out for me to take back to her to try for size." The reaction to my suggestion that they measured the baby's crown seemed on a par with Herod's slaughter of the innocents!

Then she had some of balls of my wool (double knitting and four ply) to crochet a pixie hat pattern for the dear child (she only knows two crochet patterns as she doesn't do a lot of craft work and can't read a printed pattern).

"How many chain will I need to start it off?" she asked.

"How big is the crochet hook and how thick is the wool you will be using?" I enquired.

"I don't know yet?"


fj_warren [userpic]

Mirror, mirror . . .

September 6th, 2016 (03:52 pm)

In my teenage years I was developing into a typical well built farmer's daughter. At the age of 16 something happened to knock me out of kilter and I went from almost 10 stone to 6 stone 8 pounds in less than three months. From then on it was an uphill battle to put back the weight and I managed to get to just over 7 stones and stayed like that for years. However, the menopause came and I bulged all over the place and put on a lot more weight. The strange thing that happened to my mind set that made me lose all that weight in the first place is still with me though.

I don't look in full length mirrors if I can avoid them as (although people tell me I'm not that big) the image I see reflected is that of a hippopotamus after an all night session in a fried food emporium! If I watch programmes about people with eating disorders to me their stick thin bodies look fat even if their bones are almost poking through their skin. Yes, I know they are seriously underweight but my mind won't let me believe it even though I can remember how painful it was to have to sit on a bony backside!

Today I read an article about models being too thin and they gave a measurement table. In my eating disorder days I measured less than what is called a size 6 today and, back then, I still thought I was fat because I had a 21 inch waist and not a 20 inch one! Bust and hips came in at 33 inches and I had to make my own clothes if I wanted to look fashionable as clothes shops sent you to the children's department as no adult sizes would fit! The really, really horrible thing is that you can't look at the human body in the same way and so my poor daughter, who was a skinny looking so and so and looked like she had never been fed, has now put on some weight and relatives and friends all tell her and me how lovely she looks these days because of it. I tell my daughter (I can't help it but it's how I see it) that she's fat!! That's how she looks to me but she's a size 10 for goodness sake so how can't I get my head around the fact that she is not this huge monster which my brain/mind/neurosis is telling me she is?!!

fj_warren [userpic]

I don't!

September 5th, 2016 (01:25 pm)

A news item stated that 'A fifth of parents regretted their baby name choices'. Well I don't because I named my Sproglet after the day she was born and the month she was born in. Simples! Er . . . not quite because although her dad could spell her second name he came a cropper over her first name. He went to the bank to open an account for her and I had to have it corrected because he and the bank teller were stumped so used the boy's spelling for her name. Felt a bit flat when we discovered that her paternal great grandmother had the same second name and consequently nearly all my partner's female cousins had this name as their second name too but it did seem to make her more special in a way so it worked out fine.

For years she used her second name because she wasn't very fond of her first name - possibly because I used to sing a French song with the name in it at the drop of a hat! - or she just preferred the simplicity of her second name. However, once people started telling her how 'posh' her first name was the second name was dropped in preference for the first name so possibly, seeing she gave and is giving both names good exposure, she is quite happy with them.

I still use her nickname tho' so 'Mickymickmay' if you are reading this feel free to have a moan!

fj_warren [userpic]

Did the Earth move for you?!

August 1st, 2016 (05:29 pm)

I don't drive so I bus everywhere. Coming home I was sitting next to the woman who I sat next to on the way to town.

"Did you get your shopping done?" I asked conversationally.

"Oh yes," she said "and I even managed twenty minutes on my wobbler."

Just for fun I'm not going to explain it!