Considering the amount of coverage that Michael Jackson’s death has received on both the TV and the radio, I’m surprised that it took so long for B to ask me questions.

This conversation took place the day after Micheal Jackson died and I was watching the news.

B ~ “Mummy, who is Michael Jackson?

Me ~ He was a singer and a very good dancer.

B ~ But he’s dead now?

Me ~ Yes, he is.

B ~ How did he die?

Me ~ I think he was poorly.

B ~ Did he take poison?

B is rather obsessed with poison at the moment.  Not sure why or where it’s come from , but we’re hoping that it’s a phase that won’t last long.

Me ~ No, I don’t think so. Although I think he may have taken some medicine.

B ~ But medicine makes you better!

Me ~ Yes, but if you’re really, really poorly it doesn’t always work.

B ~ Like when I was sick after I had that medicine for my cough?

Me ~ Yes. Just like that. But you got better soon afterwards, didn’t you!

B ~ I suppose.      Was he married?

Me ~ Ummm, he was, but I don’t think he was when he died.

B ~ Maybe it’s his Mum then.

Me ~ Maybe who is his mum?

B ~ The lady that they always show on the news, when they talk about him.

Me ~ I haven’t seen a lady.

B ~  Yes. They always show the picture.

Me ~ Ok. I’ll keep an eye out for it.

A few moment later.

B ~ There she is. That’s the lady.

Me ~ No sweetheart, that was how Michael Jackson looked just before he died.

B ~ Freak!

I just let that one go.

So, the countdown is on.

In just 10 days time I will be completing my final stint as an After School Club organiser at B’s school. Seriously, I can’t wait to hand in my bleeper when I finish.

In 12 days, my buddy, Emma and I are driving 341 miles up to Edinburgh to see Duran Duran play at Edinburgh Castle. I’m so excited about this that I may well pop.

And when I come back, B will have finished school for the summer and we’ll be faced with hoping that the weather stays good so that we can find stuff to fill those 7 weeks with.

Then, come September, B will be starting year 4 of primary school, he’ll have had his 8th birthday and I will have freaked out at how he got so old, so quickly.

I’ve been helping the run the After School Club at B’s school for over a year now.  When I first started doing it, it was just me and the woman (who was weird as fuck) who had been doing it for five years.   She had plans on moving up from the AS Club to becoming a TA, but B’s school is tiny and the two TA’s who were already there weren’t leaving for love nor money.   She was also desperate for a baby. Her words not mine, and I think that working at the school was a way for her to surround herself with kids as she had no luck in concieving.  These are all things that she told me within the first hour of me meeting her.  Why she felt the need to share such things with me, I’ll never know.

Then, out of the blue, last September she handed in her notice. She’d had a huge tax rebate, her husband was going to be having major surgery so she decided to nurse him back to health and then start looking, in earnest for a TA job.  Bravo I thought. Somebody who is actualy going out for what they want. There aren’t enough people like that, in my opinion.

So then the search for another person to join the AS club began.  The main person who would be running it as well as doing all of the crappy jobs that go with it, was eventually given to a lovely girl, of about 20.  Let’s call her Rebecca. And then another position was created and another Mum got that job. Let’s call her Cindy.

Cindy is, in short, a shit stirrer.  She caused so much trouble with her lies and stirring that I actually considered moving B to another school. Thankfully, I came to my senses and had a nice long chat with B’s teacher, who put everything into perspective for me and I’m once again very happy with the school that B goes to.

She’s also one of the reason’s that I have handed in my notice at the AS club and won’t be doing it anymore after this month.

Last week, or it may have been the week before I had my appraisel at the school. Although I’m leaving, it’s one of those things that just has to be done.

The Head even said as much as the success of the after school club was down to me.
And they asked if there was anything they could do to stop me from leaving. But I said no and was perfectly straight with them about some of the things that Cindy had told me about the way that B had been treated by the teachers at the school and that I was just sick and tired of all of the backstabbing, the gossip and the lies.

The Head and the Secretary told me that they had already had complaints about Cindy and her behaviour and that they had suspected for a while that she was the reason that I was leaving.
The following day, Cindy had her appraisal.
Cindy did not have such a good one.  She sent me a text the  afternoon after her appraisal saying that the Head had ripped into her.
The Head had had complaints that Cindy was talking (gossipping) with her friends about some of the kids at school, and some other parents had overheard and told the head.
Cindy came out of the office after the meeting and just burst into tears. She’s been told that the only reason that she wasn’t sacked was because none of the other parents were willing to sign anything, and that the school are keeping a very close eye on her. She was also made to re~sign her confidentiality agreement.

The thing is, that I know the above to be true. She does gossip with her little group of shitstirrers about the kids and their parents, and I’m not surprised that it’s got back to the Head, as our school is so small, so it was bound to happen sooner or later.
Cindy and the Head don’t like each other either, and this really hasn’t helped matters. Cindy is always bitching to me about the Head and isn’t discreet at all.
Her son goes up into the final year in September, which the Head teaches and her son is in a complete frenzy about it because Cindy keeps telling him (and anyone else who will listen) that the Head is a bully and that she doesn’t like boys unless they’re the weird little creepy good boys. So now Cindy’s son is all at the thought of being taught only by her next year.
I’ve asked her why she doesn’t just move her son to another school and have it over and done with, but she says that she doesn’t want to move him again (this is his 2nd school) and she doesn’t want him to miss out on the fun in the final year.
But. If he’s so worried about the Head he’s not going to have a good final year is he?
But, if it was your child and you truly believed this, wouldn’t you move him?

Everyday I walk Gemma.  And almost every day we walk in this field. The exception being if I’m in a major hurry to do something or go somewhere and on those days, we have a walk around the park, but 9 times out of 10, we walk around this field.

There is a tree in the field which we imaginatively have named the “lonely tree”.  Because it stands alone in the middle of the field. In the summer it’s somewhere to get a bit of shade, and in the winter it’s somewhere for the horses to shelter from the wind, rain, sleet and snow.   As you can see in this photo which was taken on a cold and windy day.

One day last week, I made my way up to the lonely tree with Gemma. As I got closer I could see that there was something on the trunk of the tree.   It turned out to be a couple of pieces of paper.   The bottom piece says “Rest in Peace Curly. Sleep tight” and then on top of that was a pink heart shape.    The photo isn’t great. I only had my camera-phone with me and Gemma kept pouncing on me as I wasn’t throwing her toy nearly enough.

Today, I returned to the field, and to the lonely tree, where the message above had been taken away and replaced with this:

It’s a nice piece of A4 paper, telling a few more details about the person who has obviously passed away and a small bunch of flowers.

I’ve no idea of who this chap is. I’ve searched the local newspapers online but it’s not throwing up any information, so all I can assume is that he loved this field, the hill that it leads to , or maybe the village that I live in and his family have decided that it’s as good a place as any to remember him by.

Back in January, I made a half arsed New Years Resolution to start wearing make~up on a regular basis.  I can look back now and say with conviction that it was a half arsed resolution, because it didn’t last long and I didn’t really believe it when I said, wrote, typed it.

But. Since becoming a regular reader of a certain blog, I have realised that I really ought to crack on and try again.  I’ve always known that I feel better, perhaps more confident, when wearing Make Up and have managed to nick a couple of ideas, hints and tricks from PJB in the meantime.

Last month, I took stock of my make up.  And believe me, for some reason, I have loads. 1 vanity case and 2 reasonably sized bags. All of them full of crap, that I just don’t use.  I threw out everything that had been opened, made a list of the things that I simply had to have ~ which thankfully only consisted of 3 items ~ and trundled off to town.

I started off well. I wore make up for at least a week, but once again I have since become rather lazy about it.

The thing is. I don’t mind putting it on.  In fact, it gives me a pretty much guaranteed few minutes to sit down in the morning, when I’m usually running around sorting out B’s breakfast, lunch, feeding the bloody cat who meows as though she’s not been fed for a month and trying not to trip over the dog-bot.

The thing that I’ve always hated ~ and yes, I really do resent having to do it ~ is the removal of the bloody stuff.

I’ve always been more of a “quick wash of the face, moisturise, bed” kind of bedtime routine girl, and that just doesn’t seem possible when you’ve been wearing mascara.  Or maybe it’s the way that I put mascara on or the crap that I use to take it off again.  I seem to need industrial strength remover and even with that, I still end up with it flaked beneath my eyes in the morning. And there’s nothing better to see first thing in the morning than that ever attractive Bride of Frankenstein look.

So, basically, I think what I’m saying, is that, the reason that I don’t really wear make up is that I’m just too damn lazy to take the stuff off again. But. I already knew that.  So, I’m not actually saying anything that will come as a surprise to me.

But, I’m also going to persevere. I may give up again, for a while, but as long as I pick myself up again, I don’t see that it matters.

Plus, I think I’m getting to that age where I can’t shouldn’t really been seen in public without at least a little help.

I have, at last, told the school that I will no longer be doing the After~school club after next month. As much as I would like to just walk away without so much as a backward glance, I wouldn’t just leave them in the lurch.

Well, no. That’s not quite true. I would do that, if they had pissed me about, but they haven’t so that would just be a shitty thing to do. Mainly to the kids, as they’d be lumbered with one of the teachers, or God forbid, the Headmistress in my place ~ and that just woudn’t be any fun for anyone ~ except perhaps me, who would be laughing from the sidelines.

I’ve been working there for over a year now, and have never really enjoyed it. Mainly because on the nights that I work there, the children that I despise the most are always there. And because I’m so fucking unlucky, they’re always booked in for the full 2 hours.  It’s got to the point where I hate these kids so much, that when they misbehave ~ which they always do ~ I can’t tell them off. I have to get one of the other staff members to do it, because I would just go too far and end up banning them from the club.

As you can see. When I dislike someone, I go the whole hog but thankfully, I am aware of this and manage to work around it.

Another reason is that one of the other people that run the club with me is another mum from the school and I’ve never particularly trusted her but now I just can’t bear to speak to her.  This woman has a real bee in her bonnet about the Headmistress at B’s school and is doing her best to go round all the other mums and spread the hate.  In fact there’s actually a little group of mum’s who are doing this, all without any actual reason and of course, without proof and to be honest, the sooner I get away from them, the better, because after every conversation that I have with them, I just end up walking away feeling drained. No matter what we start the conversation talking about, within a minute (and I have tested this out) we she turns the subject around to the Head.

Seriously, if she has such an issue, why the fuck doesn’t she just get her son and move him to another school?   Especially since in September he’ll be in his final year at our school and he will be taught exclusively by the Head.  It’s not rocket science, is it?

Look at what I bought today.

Check out the packaging! It’s the good old fashioned packet that we had back in the day.

I wish I’d bought more than one packet now though.

So, last Saturday I travelled up to Manchester for a forum meet. The lovely Karen had very kindly invited those of us who wanted to attend to her home for a BBQ.  Something that you would never catch me doing.

Unfortunutley the weather sucked so the Barbie was moved indoors, but since Karen has a huge house, and Karaoke in her conservatory, this wasn’t too much of a problem.

I’m not sure how many people turned up, but I’m guessing about 12 ~ 15, many of us had already met before, one way or another.

Lots of fun was had. Lovely food was eaten and a shocking ammount of alcohol was drank. I did want to get a lovely big group photo of us all before we got too drunk or before anyone began to slink off, but I forgot. I got carried away chatting, eating, singing and drinking.

But this photo is one of my favourites. It was snapped while the girls in question were singing “My heart will go on” and about 5 seconds before the blonde at the top of the photo fell off the basket into a giggling heap in the corner.  I should have taken a photo of her on the floor, but I was thankfully filming it on my cameraphone ~ so it all worked out.

I was very sensible though and hardly drank at all. Well, that’s not strictly true. I did have two pints of Tia Maria and Coke, but I spent so long chatting to everyone that everytime I started to get tiddly I would soon sober up.

I also got to have my first taste of a Krispy Kreme doughnut. I had mentioned to Tatty a week or so earlier that I’d never had one, and she very kindly bought a load before the left London.  I’m not really big on sweet things, but they were really lovely.

All in all, a lovely time was had and on Saturday I’m out on the razz again. But this time for a very different reason.

Shan’t Can’t say anything about it right now, as I can’t afford for the surprise to be let out of the bag, but I can’t wait.

M was working today. Somewhere miles away. He did tell me where, but, you know, I either forgot or didn’t listen. You can decide which.

I recalled seeing something, somewhere advertising the fact that the Tall Ships Festival was back on at the Gloucester Docks, so B and I hopped in the car and drove off. Made even better by the fact that it was a gorgeously hot day, which always helps when you’re going to be hanging around docks.

Today though was amazing. B and I both had a wonderful time. We did loads. When we first arrived at the Docks, we looked over the railings and saw three little boats in the water. In two of the boats were “convicts” rowing for their lives, and in the final boat were “guards” who were rowing like nutters trying to catch up with the convicts. It was so funny to watch.

For the past couple of weeks there has also been a kind of “Gloucester Eye” type thing there. Last time we were there it was a horrid windly overcast kind of day and I promised B that we’d go on it when the weather was a little better. Today, the weather was perfect, so off we went for a spin around the Gloucester Eye.

It was actually better than I had expected and we went around three times, the first time was really slow and gave you a really good chance of looking all around and taking in the view. Including the Cathedral which looked lovely with the gorgeous blue sky behind.

We then went into the city centre where the festival spirit continued. There were peasants wandering all over the place, as well as people dressed up as Tudors (we saw Henry VIII and one of his wives) and soldiers in their Red Coats marching all over the place as well as other soldiers.

Ever since I  was a little girl, there has been a huge glass viewing platform “thing” outside Boots. You look down through the glass to some Roman Ruins that were excavated in the 1970’s.   Just to the right hand side of Boots, there is a little door which leads down into the actual ruins. But I’ve never seen it open to the public. But today, B spotted a Roman Centurian standing guard outside the door. The door, which was open!

B and I couldn’t get across to it fast enough.  We went down the stairs, which was fantastic as it was lovely to be out of the scorching heat, and took a seat and listened to a lady, who was dressed up in olden days clothes, tell us olde worlde stories and tales. This in itself was wonderful, but once the lady had finished telling her stories (we heard three) a man who had been sat at the back, stood up and announced that he was about to give a guided tour of Roman Gloucester.

There were 5 of us who took up this man’s very kind offer and he took us around the 2 “gate” streets of Gloucester, telling us stories, facts and pointing out all kinds of things that I must have walked past hundreds of times and never given a second thought to. The tour lasted about 45 minutes and was fascinating. Even B, who hasn’t the greatest attention span in the world, was rivetted and hung on the guide’s every word. After the tour, I decided to treat B to a Happy Meal which we took to the Cathedral grounds to eat, picnic stylee.

This was an event in itself as loads of soldiers and civilians had set up camp in the grounds. There were campfires burning, a blacksmith giving a demonstration on how to make swords and daggers and B and I sat in the middle of both camps, keeping it real by munching on a McDonalds. Honestly, this was a fantastic day and I can’t wait for the Tall Ships Festival next year.

Today B and I went swimming, to the local leisure centre.

Four hours!

Four. Fucking. Hours.

That’s how long we were in there.

I’m knackered. My eyes are burning, but I’m not yet sure if it’s from the chlorine, the fact that almost every dad in there seemed to have the entire top half of their bodies covered in tattoo’s or the sheer amount of creole earrings that the chavtastic teenage girls were wearing.

Seriously girls. They were tacky the first time around ~ what makes you think they look any better now?

So, anyway, as we arrived I was informed that Wet n Wild would be starting at 2pm. This means nothing to me, as the only time we go to this pool is during the school holidays but I didn’t bother to ask as I thought that I’d figure it out soon enough.

It turns out that it’s something along the lines of this, but ours had a Dragon’s head on it.

First though, the floor of the pool needed to be made shallower, so we all swam over to the side of the pool to sit and wait while the floor was raised.  I’d never seen this done before so sat there for all of two minutes peering down into the water. Obviously I couldn’t see anything, but I was thrilled.

B managed to have two goes.  Both times, however, he fell off, and then the bloody thing was deflated again and put away. Hardly worth the time and effort it took to blow the damn thing up.

Then I overheard one of the Lifeguards saying that they were going to get the balls out. This again meant nothing to me, but I noticed how excited the kids were and that they were all scrabbling to line up at the side of the pool, so off I sent B.  Ignoring his questions of ” But what am I lining up for mum?” and my reply of “I don’t know, but it looks like it’s going to be cool”

Then when B saw the balls (above) being unwrapped he was chuffed to bits.  The queue however, was huge. He waited for a good 40 minutes for his turn, which of course took just 2 minutes. But I have to say that those 2 minutes of watching B run around in a giant hamster ball was well worth the wait.