Ok let’s dance!! volume on MAX please:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_eVD53uKgsc
Road workers have bling on their STOP GO signs, where have I been? (er, OK 7 years abroad). I just passed a small gang with diggies by the forest and the workmen were holding one of these up like a kind of giant diamante lollipop, flashing lights in the form of STOP. It was plugged into his quad thingy. Well well. Now I can see how this would be useful at night..but they don’t work at this sort of thing at night…..so….perplexed. Men at work in modern Britain. In contrast the Pakistani workmen on Jeddah’s building sites wore flip-flops sometimes.
‘Ealth and safety sandals mate innit.
I get surprised all the time I find. Like when the council workers were out trimming the verges in the autumn when the grass was already sporting a short back and sides, or when I received the most enormous encyclopaedic well-meaning tome about having a child from my midwife even though friends had given me almost a library already. Unable to balance book on bump or knees before the birth and on four hours sleep after, any time or energy for light reading was reserved for the fabulous Baby Centre. On my mobile, succinct, tiny and able to operate with one hand free.
Yey, light is right.
All this talk of recycling…can’t we get around giving out unnecessary forests in the form of books? Funny thing was too, I was quite chilled out about the birth in Saudi Arabia, it was only when I got back here that people started freaking me out with warnings of this and that. Well I did look particularly fetching, legs like Nelson’s column, after the flight back. Just glimpsed hubbie sliding some latex gloves into the hand baggage and discretely swotting up on obstetrics the night before. Mopping brow with relief after touching down in Manchester, apart from observing whale-type expansion in wifely bi-ped, nothing to get soaped up for.
Which brings me neatly onto the subject of wind. It’s kind of blowing wild enough to be a blizzard, but no snow just wind, so please can I call it a wizzard? I’ve pulled up in a layby so BB can snore in peace and the car is rocking from side to side in quite an alarming way. I guess there’s not a lot between us and Ireland, except some really mammoth waves today.
The sheep in front of me are facing it with their bottoms (if you get my meaning), as am I with the boot of the Renault, and they’re not rocking at all – the sheep that is. I guess hooves are more cling-on than wheels. I may be a general idiot but I’m very glad I wasn’t born a sheep. What long tails they’ve got, and they’re swinging in the wind like bell-pulls. Realise I sound like the wolf in Red Riding Hood.
Moving on.
The new Miss Romania arrived yesterday so nights out as parents beckon in the near future, which is groovy. Stayed up too late Twittering again and think I’m beginning to get the hang of it. Though still can’t work out why I don’t get all replies to my tweets, as I accidentally discovered them on the writer’s page…hmmm. Works a lot better for me if I forget about being serious, so decided to throw in my hat and be a committed moron in this domain. Teaching was better when you could be a creative idiot in the classroom (in an intelligent way, naturally), but not often possible unfortunately, even with stealth operatic clownings dispersed amongst the collage materials.
BTW why do they always say “gloopy glue” on CBeebies?
The mist is coming in now. Awake at 5.00am again. Feel my brain turning into sponge.
BB put the potatoes in the washing machine yesterday, exploring new ways to make mash. Just one of his adorable qualities is his desire to help.
Dirty clothes meet
The veggies ooh, meet the veggies! Lala lalala lalala!
