Hullaballoo

I got this great meme from I am the Diva. Give it a go, if you want.


1. My partner...provides me with all of his/my socks.

2. Maybe I should... sing a song and dance around a bit.

3. I love...my life.

4. People would say that...I am a great friend who remembers to keep in touch.

5. I don't understand...and don't always feel the need to understand.

6. When I wake up in the morning...I often feel anxious about doing all that needs done.

7. I lost... my keys, my hairbrush, my mobi, my wallet etc etc etc.

8. Life is full of... opportunity and richness.

9. My past has taught me... that it's most fun to stay in the present.

10. I get annoyed when... my cakes never rise. Ever. Grrr.

11. Parties are...a thing of the past, although I wish that were different.

12. I wish... I could totally relax at the press of a button.

13. Dogs...are friendly, loyal and kind.

14. Cats... are a bit scary when they scratch.

15. Tomorrow...I am taking my first bodyjam exercise class - exciting.

16. I have a low tolerance for... alcohol, which is just as well, in the main.

17. If I had a million dollars...I would give out a thousand grants for projects to make Scotland a more rewarding place to live in.

18. I'm totally terrified of...the dark. The other night I screamed when I saw my reflection in the hall mirror during the night. Yes, I know these things shouldn't happen at my age, but they do.

19. I'd rather be... more easygoing about money. It really gets my goat when I am not paid.

20. My vice is......given how long I had to think about this one, I am not sure if I have any but no that can't be true.....

Nowadays you can buy lollipops that whistle.
Why didn't they have them when I was a kid?
I feel robbed.
And deafened by OS's whistling lolly.

So...... going to the gym has made my libido rocket. There's a benefit that is a bonus. The army man personal trainer has turned out to be a teddy bear, not a grizzly bear, which is a help.

Ever since becoming a mother, I have used gyms to get fit and get some peace. When the boys were babies, I would pay to book them into the creche, and sometimes be so exhausted, all I could do was go for a sleep next to the pool. Times have changed and I have now joined the kids up for the easter holidays. They are keener than keen to go swimming each day and take part in the varied kiddy activities - we chose it because it is a family club.

The running (ahem, rather chat running) didn't work
I cycle everywhere, but only on the flat
I walk when I don't cycle, but stop regularly for recouperative coffee and cake.

I want to have more to talk about than (in no particular order) nits, clients, low mood, kiddy activities, and (super yawn) the credit crunch.

So, this morning, in tears, staring at my every more wobbly belly, I decided to join a gym, for the first time in 2 years. YS has been putting pressure on me to run, and I realise that I am getting less and less fit and my beliefs about my ability to exercise are becoming less and less expansive.

Tonight I took the plunge and sat waiting for the membership lady in the comfy cafe drinking mocha and reading the Guardian, staring at the pool. I like that way of exercising, not much looking forward to the out of breath and sweaty stuff.

I told her I was a psychotherapist, that my business was motivation and that my motivation to exercise was zilch, zero, nil, so she would have her work cut out with me. Ha!

I checked out the personal trainers in the profile book and discarded the army one, the rugby boy, the over enthuisastic netball one and the slightly psychotic baldy guy. I opted instead for the lady who also teaches pilates. I reckon she would have a core understanding of positive psychology for wobbly tum tums.

Well, it's not really a crisis, just a mega blip. Bobo and I are flying to a 4 day conference (woo hoo). Being Scotterish, I refuse to pay to check our luggage into the hold. My solution is to wear all our clothes at once, including my ball dress. That should make airport security fun. Anyone else got any ideas?

My mother's day began with two breakfasts, a homemade card of tissue paper daffodils with a loving message inside then a treasure hunt to find a pencil cartoon strip, featuring me in grave danger, being rescued by a super hero.

I lolled around playing computer games, reading trashy newspapers and magazines and snoozing while waiting for my smoothie and vegatarian sausage second breakfast to appear.

The afternoon was spent cuddled up baking with very enthusiastic YS, who got to lick the bowl for each stage of the mother's day cake. I loved being so nestled with him, stiring the mixture together, watching him get more and more of it on his clothes, seeing his delight at having ginger beer with roast chicken for tea.

What a beautiful day.

At lunchtime, I was enjoying the rich fullsome hedonism of eating my soup and sandwich whilst spread out on a park bench. A couple approached. Just as they were about to sit down, I jumped up, 'inadvertantly' jerked my elbow and hurled lentil soup over the patch they were about to sit on.

Being very British, he apologised.

Bloody right, I thought, you are meant to ask before you sit down next to a premenstrual woman with hot soup on a bench.

Being very British, I said, "oh please don't apologise, it's not your fault," (lie lie lie, he KNEW very well what he had done lol.

Has anyone else read about a Brighton woman who bought her baby daughter a toy parrot. Unexpectedly, as she put it in her pram it said, "Oi! What're you looking at, a***hole." Then when she pulled the cord it said, "I'm going to rip your head off and shit down your neck." Apparently the toy had been erroneously placed in the kiddies' section of the 99p store. Yes, there are adult sections in 99p stores, although I cannot immgine what worthwhile objects they might stock.

It's all true!
Unbelievable eh?

The best part was that the man in front of them thought the comments were directed at him lol.

I wore my new top today, it's the fresh dotty one in the picture. It reminds me of the fresh summer dresses we wor for school, there is something reassuringly innocent about this top. All day long, I expected someone to ask me if I had just baked some apple pie and no one did. Not even one wry remark. How disappointing, that was a remark just waiting to be made.

After school, I treated the boys to ice lollies at the park and I watched a yummy mummy blowing the biggest bubbles I had ever seen for an excited group of toddlers as they played amongst the purple flowers. The boys sommersaulted around the park, did scary tricks and played football with their friends. How easy it is to socialise your children when the sun shines.

After a testing day yesterday, I wasn't looking to going back to a stressful working week. Today has been surprising and delightful

Beauty: I noticed the beauty of the gleaming purple flowers that line the canal bank next to the school and remembered how I longed for them to appear.
Grace under pressure: I juggled so many tasks today, wearing so many different hats, yet at the end of today, I feel calm and settled, not churned or anxious.

Peace: YS was singing as he settled into bed tonight, none of the habitual stressing and carrying on about bedtime

Gratitude: For spirited boys, a devoted partner a warm and bright living space and an interesting and varied job.

It took me two and half hours today to do the weekly food shop, yawn. I had a thumping headache and so ended up having a traditional Scotterish cooked breakfast in the cafe and reading the papers. Being psychologically aware, I did debate for maybe one minute as to whether such a breakfast was a guaranteed headache cure, but failed to reach any logical conclusion to my thinking. I really need to take Working Woman's advice and get the food delivered.

Actually doing the shopping was plan B ie,'stop farting about and just do it.' Plan A was to go back to bed and read a book about getting things done, have a wee snooze and then see what I felt like doing. Trouble is, plan A is fatally flawed, because I never 'feel' like cleaning the bathroom, doing my accounts or finding out whether the smudginess on the kitchen window is on the inside or the outside.

Aha, you say, just break down the nasties into bitesize chunks, then reward yourself for achieving them. Great idea. I have now picked up 5 of the more dubious items of the boys' bedroom floor, hung 5 items of laundry, put away 5 plates and have been rewarded by a 5 times stronger headache.

Time to give up and go back to bed. It is Sunday, so why am I so hard on myself?

Now being a healthy size 16, I decided today that I needed to re-vamp my wardrobe or risk feeling really rubbish about myself.

I have saved up and indulged in my very first pair of designer Kookai jeans. Last week, I saw a fashion expert on tv suggesting that women in their 30s should consider better fitting jeans. OMG! What an experience for one who always shops in charity shops. They fit like jean gloves, they cling at all the flattering parts and don't sag at the parts I would rather not mention.

Yum. Being size 16 is a whole lot sassier and sexier now.

Okay, Opal Fruits are so yesterday. We have just had the best meal out. Mussels with pine nuts and bacon in a white wine and cream sauce. I may have made a minor tactical error by enthusiastically chomping all the garnish as soon as it arrived, as it turned out to be a clump of zingy basil and not the lettuce I had imagined. I am, however, made up. The side dishes of roasted carrots and parsnips, the sun dried tomato bread and the delicious Argentian Shiraz we washed it all down with were spot on. And, it's only Friday. What more can the weekend bring? Must go, as Bobo is enthusiastically playing his favourite collection of inside outside, weirdy music in the lounge. I feel a hullabobo club night coming on.

Yesterday, I counselled people all day, then went to bed with a book all afternoon and contentedly ate Opal Fruits.

Today, I am sporting a long, swishy black dress whilst cycling and enjoying the freedom to go home at lunch and cook myself disastrous chilli pittatta frittatta.

And sometimes I wonder whether other peole's lives are quite as weird as mine.

Check out this website, it's both witty and poignant: www.onesentence.org. On it people tell stories about their life, in one sentence.

This one made me laugh this morning. It is someone's childhood memory:
"Nothing is more embarassing than having to tell the doctors that the stab to my eye that was causing me to get the stitches in my eyelid was all because my sister was trying to write 'loser' on my forehead."

I had a complimentary consultation with a well known naturopath today. He had just openened a new health shop and the place was full of people making polite small talk with each other. Well heeled ladies in wide, unflattering skirts jumped a few centimetres in the air (strangely they did this from the bum) when someone approached them, were chatting excitedly about the healing powers of herbs. "These people think nothing of forking out 8 squid for a tub of 10% manuka honey, whatever that is," I thought uncharitably.

I felt stressed, cynical and jumpy, not helped by being approached by two slimey charmers at the buffet. Being well brought up, I politely asked them how they were and they replied, "all the better for seeing you darling." Ewwww, time for a sharp exit from the buffet area, before they attempted inappropriate intimacy behind the onion bhaji.

I waited nervously next to the £20 a bag organic nappies and wipes section, pretending to be interested in carrot and papaya baby mash (yuck) so I wouldn't lose my place in the queue. All around, I was bombarded with the wonder healing effects of sea kelp, aloe vera, funny honey and the distilled essence of the awaka waka tree.

When I finally saw the man himself, I had less than 5 minutes with him. I explained that I was feeling stressed and jumpy. After examining my eyes with what looked to me like a sellotape dispenser, he confirmed that I was indeed stressed - and jumpy. It has taken him years to amass such expertise.

"Never mind," he said in a thick continental accent, "you are young and pretty, you have a good job and a fine life ahead of you. Take these (rip off tincture drops costing 8 squid) twice a day and you will soon feel better. Then he kissed me on the cheek and said, "come and see me any time my darling, and I will give you a consultation for free."

Having sat on any counter transferential desire to kiss, cuddle or otherwise exchange bodily fluids with attractive clients of mine, even after many months of intimate work, I left the consultation feeling a little confused. Was he just being European and friendly, or was he a tad charming and manipulative per chance? Will this tincture melt my cold cynicism and make me light and fluffy again? I think not, but happily the couple of glasses of Sauvignon Blanc I have just consumed are having the desired effect at half the price.

I came across these photos this morning and they reminded me of the day Bobo and I went to the sculpture park near Guildford.




It was hot, sunny and magical. The sculptures were so spectacular. I remember being really nervous and hungover on the way as it was the day I was going to meet Bobo's extended family for the first time. We couldn't find anyhwere to stop and get me some water, because we were in the middle of the countryside. Eventually, I put my foot down and said I would climb out and drink the water from the car radiator if we didn't stop soon. Suitably chastened, I guilt tripped him into paying over the odds for bottled water at a village pub before we settled to enjoy the park. Actually, I suggested to the landlady that he should pay double. How cruel am I?


Bobo looking slightly peeved at paying nearly £5 for a tiny bottle of water lol.

This is me mucking about, wearing a zebra skin sun hat at the airport shops.

I am not bothered about fancy transportation, my Raleigh Bob bike does the trick. I don't mind about bike fashion, my 12 year old fluorescent jacket still does the job, even if I do get a bit teased for it. However, there is one accessory which has never yet let me down. Until today. You see, I left my helmit padlocked to my bike and it became unlidded in the rain. Looking inside, I found it was held together with sellotape. How very naff. Now I know how to wear an unlidded helmit home - with great care, especially in the wind lol.

Now, the boys have a great mothers day gift idea, a spanking new funky helmit. I have already floated the idea with OS, but he was more interested in giggling about the fact that someone had written 'vagiva' on the boat in the school playground. Kids er!

Added later: Here is a picture of my unlidded helmet.

We have just returned from a bracing family outing to the local city farm. Brrrrr, cold ears, cold hands and a soggy camera. It's the first time we have taken Bobo there - I kept telling him how much better it was in the sunshine.

Happy boys running along trading tic tacs for Galaxy chocolate between them, racing along secret passage ways and doing laps of the park. We had to retreat from the sheep enclosure as YS was a bit traumatised by the noise.

As we huddled in Jemima's Pantry (the wee cafe) afterwards, nursing our frost bite, I reflected on how uninspiring it was to still be so cold and wintry outside. It's so cold, I made boxing day muffins and have had to resort back to thick cladding. It's not fair, that's all.

I have just read in Spirit and Soul or Spirit and Destiny or Spirit and Trash mag that......

Caprice believes in reincarnation.
Phew! That's one mystery solved.
Now we are all have the chance of coming back as her surgical implants.
I am vastly reassured to know that stars can be dead spiritual too. Or should I say, spritual when they are dead?

On my weekly trawl through trashy mags, I discovered something shocking in Love it/Closer/Ok/Grazia/Take a Break.

Posh thinks Jordan is trashy.
What a b i t c h!
Now it's going to take me several Moscow mules and a few dances to ibiza space to recover.
Trashy?
How very dare she.

Last night I watched my new pilates video for the first time. Wearing massive headphones and wedged between the coffee table, the rest of the family and the tv, I contorted myself into ridiculous poses and nearly knocked over Bobo's wine. The kids were fascinated and kept coming to walk over me and see what I was doing.

This morning, OS said he was glad I was doing Pepperoni, because it was obviously good for me. Bless. I slept better too, although that was probably exhaustion.

Ever wondered who you might be underneath all the different hats you wear? What if there is nothing at all beyond the exterior? How would you make sense of it?

Many professionals I know, including myself, live in fear of being 'found out.' It's not that they are unqualified or in experienced, just a nagging twinge of vulnerability. Do you ever experience this? What do you do to feel better when this happens - apart from reaching for junk food and wine?

In order to re-wire some of my old neurons, I have decided to label this 'the week of doing it differntly.' It begun with going to a music gig (something I have only done once before) and taking more than a passing interest in computer games (I tried out a Wii and insisted on pronouncing it Waay, much to Bobo's amusement). On Sunday, I read the sports pages, including all accounts of unfolding regional football matches.

Today, as YS is off sick, I have indulged in hper-laundry (contrary to the usual hypo-laundry I engage in). This has included finishing all that I start and putting things away properly, instead of almost shutting drawers.

All this has led me to my final realisation: Maths is good for you, and helpful too. Consider the following problem:

Bobo and Hulla have been together for 21 months.
During that time Bobo has made no new purchase of man underpants.
Currently, he owns 20 pairs which are in mint condition (I counted them how very un-me!)
How many times has he worn each pair?

31.5 times by my reckoning. This means that man pants can be worn at least 30 times before they show any signs of sagging or unsighly wearing. That's way more than woman pants, which need special girl laundry bags to be washed in. See how useful even a rudimentary knowledge of maths can be?

Carol from Not Only in Thailand (http://notonlyinthailand.blogspot.com/) has a close relation who is about to go into a hospice and has asked for healing thoughts to be sent their way. I have decided to post a healing meditation, taken from Shakti Gawain's book, Creative Visualisation in response to her request. I have posted the roses because when someone dear to me was having a melanoma removed, my therapist encouraged me to think of them surrounded by abundant roses and good health. I don't know whether it worked or not, it certainly wasn't magic, but it was soothing to me and gave me a way of focusing my thoughts. Keep an open mind and, if you feel like it, give it a go. If you question it, that's okay too.

Sit or lie down comfortably, close your eyes and breathe deeply, slowly, and naturally. Gradually relax deeper and deeper.

Imagine something that you would like to manifest. Imagine that it has already happened. Picture it as clearly as possible in your mind.

Now in your mind's eye surround your fantasy with a pink bubble; pour your goal inside the bubble. Pink is the colour associated with the heart, and if this colour vibration surrounds whatever you visualise, it will bring you only that which is in perfect affinity with your being.

The third step is to let go of the bubble and imagine it floating off into the universe, still containing your vision. This symbilises that you are emotionally "letting go" of it. Now it is free to float around the universe, attracting and gathering energy for its manifestation.

There is nothing more you need to do.



I have found this short meditation really useful over the years. The more I want something to be a certain way, the greater the relief at being able to let go of the end result.