With thanks to QuiltyGal.

1. Go to Google Maps.

2. Write Japan as your start point.

3. Write China as your destination (by car).

4. Go to 43rd point on your route.

5. Did it make you giggle or smile?

Well, craft bomb defused...

... without CK being any the wiser. Even managed a bit of culling (hello school knitting club).

Now just have to write out job application and return to sweetest country school tomorrow.

Uhoh!

In an attempt to look vaguely grown-up and respectable for this afternoon's non-interview I have put together 'an outfit'. This has meant no shaggy-hemmed jeans, a shirt sans bleach spots or ripped seams and a sad adieu to my beloved lime green lined, brown gilet for at least a couple of hours.

It has also meant hunting through cupboards trying to find a set of matched clothing that says 'Not only should you accept my application form and no one else's for this job but forgo any interviews and offer it to me on the spot.' All was going well until I got to footwear. Skirts requires boots at this cold time of year and the only black boots findable were A) an ankle high pair with a wedge heel that says funky but not necessarily employable and B) heavy duty suede ones with wooly lining to stop the freezing drifts of snow penetrating through the 3/4 inch sole. My low-heeled, long black boots were nowhere in sight. There was nothing for it, cupboard searching it was.

I started at one end of the wardrobe in my room and began to excavate. As a consequence it looks like a craft bomb has exploded. Going the full length of the cupboards I pulled out everything that was below clothes height, it was only on reaching in to the very last square foot that I laid my hands on said black boots. Feeling both joyous and victorious I turned to go shine them up but stopped. There is no space to move in my room. The floor and up over the bed is under several inches of craft materials.

Who knew I had this much yarn and fabric stashed away?????

I am an embarrasment as a mother.

destructoBoy has been attending an Arsenal Training Club for the last couple of Friday nights. This is an invite only programme and undoubtedly means that one day my boy will be Captain of the England Team and lead them to the country's first Wold Cup victory since 1966.

That is if he doesn't drown first.

His first session last week took place during an the tail end of an all day downpour of very heavy, very cold, extremely wet rain. I lasted five minutes before heading back to read for an hour in the dry of the car.

This week it was cold but fortunately dry so I stood and watched. There was another mother and she and I chatted. She pointed out her sons, detailing the afterschool and Saturday clubs they attend. I commented on our lack of football knowledge and the fact that d/Boy has spent most of the Autumn choosing which Premier League club to support as neither CK nor myself have any allegiance. Or it must be said, interest.

We watched in silence for some more minutes stamping our feet and shivering politely side by side.

"So is that your younger son? The one wearing the Yeovil Town strip?" I asked knowledgeably, taking comfort in my recognition of the local football team.

"Actually, it's the Chelsea keeper's away strip."


"Oh."

We continued watching in deepening silence.

How quickly the mind forgets.

We have been shifting things around in the kitchen over the last few weeks and among the jars of aged spices, 500 trays and cobwebs I found my wedding ring.

(It isn't actually the one shown but it IS a R*E*G*A*R*D ring)

It wasn't really lost but has spent the last six or seven years sitting on the banana hook on the side of the cupboard. Every six months or so I put it on again but within a few days the dermatitis flares again and so back it goes.

CK handed it to me with a look of mild disdain (He is one who apologises if he ever has to remove his ring. Creep.) and so I slid it onto my third finger.

That was two weeks ago. It was only yesterday morning as I chatted to Baby Will's mother that I noticed how she was wearing her rings.

On her left hand.

I silently swapped mine across.

The one in which new things happen - '

So, this week we have had ...

... Princess C-W's first big school report. Seems she is quite good at PE and Maths. (Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.)

... me being left in charge of gloss painting door frames and doors.

... clear kitchen worktops for a WHOLE week.

... d/Boy's invite to an Arsenal Advanced Training Squad.

... hoovering behind the yellow couch (who knew dust bunnies could get that big!)

... a fabulous flashing neon collar for my assistant so she can be seen during Winter walks out and about.

... Christmas presents, nearly completely organised.

... discussion w Pr. C-W about reality of certain seasonal metaphysical constructs. Her response? 'Yeah, I knew.' *Sigh* Another nail in the coffin of childhood.

... And finally one of the best songs and accompanying video clips EVER. You may never get this out of your head.

The best sonnet methinks.

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.


Sonnet 29. Shakespeare.

Have you ever felt yourself deflating really slowly?

A little splash of colour

In a brave attempt to stave off the heightened emotion prevalent during the upcoming Season of Grey Gloomy Misery Festive Good Cheer lovely Missus SilverPebble has proposed a weeklong 'Splash of Colour' once a month. To keep us all perky and happy as the days begin to get dark by three'o'clock in the afternoon there is a Flickr Group filled with bright shiny images. Among my contributions is this sunflower shot taken down in The Lower 40 Summer 2009.

At this time of year when the sun is so low and even on a bright day seems a little tempered it is amazing to me the intensity of colour that exists in the height of Summer.

So ...

... nine year old boy and dumbells. Not a good mix, right?

Dorset Cold Call

Have just answered phone thinking it might be CK ringing to laugh over email just shared. Instead quivery little old lady voice tells me she is from a local 'whale righting service'.

"Would you be interested in having your whale organised?"(quiver, quiver)

Because I could send you some information." (more quivering followed by obvious determination to be a brave bear.)

It was at this point I clicked she actually meant will NOT whale. I had been concerned as hilltops 30 mile inland are not good places for stranded whales to find themselves. (Although the plethora of hippies would undoubtedly be willing to assist them using crystals, ley lines and such.)

Based on past experience I knew it was coming one day.

"I don't get it." Said d/Boy while watching the lastest Bodyform ads.



"Don't get what?" I asked (thinking please let him be referring to the rapidly changing styles of undies being flashed up on screen.)


"What those things they are advertising are actually for?"


(Bugger! Wasn't expecting to have to answer this at 4:30 on a Monday afternoon.)

So explained the whole thing to him.

"And this happens to you?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm .... 'K."