Trendolyn Wendolyn

10:09:06 o'clock BST
Feeling Embarrassed
Hearing Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Dear self

Don't blog when you're tipsy. Ever. If you do it again, don't edit the entry. Let the public typos be a lesson to you.

Regards
Me




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23:02:43 o'clock BST
Feeling Chillin'
Hearing The hum of the PC

I feel like a sad loser because noone's commented in my blog - except lovely Mark who liked the look of my recipe. It's an ego thing, and I'll get over it. But - if you are out there, let me know. If you don't want to leave a public comment, an email will do! Or maybe a casual  "hey, read your blog last night! You're a hoot!" in the corridor.

Anyway, I wanted to update you on some stuff.

- Phil's ex-mother in law died at 1.30am this morning.

- My dad's operation revealed that the infection in his arm went right the way down to the metal that had been put in there to replace the shattered bones. He's going to be in hospital for another week, and there's a strong possibility that the metal will be removed. I don't know if that means his bones have healed properly, or that it would be replaced with something else - neither does he. The metal was supposed to stay in there, so I can't imagine that the bones would have healed properly - would they? Wouldn't that mean he had, like, 2 bones (1 metal, 1 real) where there was only supposed to be 1? Answers on a postcard. He said, "I only tripped over a bloody kerb, Wen".

- My aunt (the one who looks after my grandad) punched my uncle (her brother, and my mum's) on Friday. Really lamped him one, apparently. There's a whole heap of background there that I won't go into for my mother's sake, but ask me in the pub one day. Mine's a red wine.

Note to mum, if she you ever find out about this blog - I won't spill the beans, even after the wine

Note to friend-in-pub - I will.

Believe what you like.

So, blended families are complicated. You knew that, right? Well, for us, complicated blended families mean complicated sleeping arrangements. We've got 3 bedrooms in our house, which is fine when it's just Phil, Jake and I. It was fine when Michael was here too.

It gets complicated, however, when my 3 stepchildren - Alice (12), Josh (9)  and Adam (9) come to stay, especially if they're visiting at the same time as Michael (12). It was alright when Alice and Michael were both 5 - we didn't mind them sharing the same room, or even the same bed.  Jake's room is tiny, and he's got a little toddler-sized bed, so really there's 2 bedrooms for us and the other 4 kids. We've tried various sleeping arrangements, the most regular of which has been the following:

Bedroom 1: Phil and I.

Bedroom 2: Michael, Adam and Josh

Bedroom  3: Jake

Sofa-bed in living room: Alice

The downside of this arrangement is that us and the big kids have to go to bed at the same time (because Alice sleeps in the living rooms), therefore, no adult alone-time in the evening. That's okay for a weekend visit, but for a longer visit (like the one we're having now), that gets a bit wearing after a couple of nights.

Phil came up with a new plan, which we're trying for this visit.

Bedroom 1: Jake and me

Bedroom 2: Alice, Michael and Adam

Bedroom 3: Josh

Living room: Phil

There are 2 obvious flaws, here. First,  Michael and Alice end up in the same room. However,  Michael's currently devoted to Lucy (who I'm sure will rear her head in a future entry), and they're chaperoned by Adam. The other is that Phil and I end up sleeping apart.  On the upside, of course, we can send the kids to bed long before we  have to go.  It's not that we don't like spending time with them, but they do need lots of sleep, and we need to be able to swear without feeling guilty.

We ran this arrangement for the first time last night, and we're doing it again tonight. It's sweet, sleeping with Jake. He doesn't snore, and he looks thrilled to see me in the morning.  I hadn't expected, though, that I'd miss Phil quite so much. Maybe it's that he got the call about Margaret in the middle of the night last night, and I feel bad that there was noone around to cuddle him. I wish he'd woken me - and I can't believe the phone didn't.

Christ, this must be dull for you! No wonder the comments box is empty!

Sleep well.

W xx

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22:35:51 o'clock BST
Feeling Chillin'
Hearing QI

Some toddler chat is fairly straightforward.

Mum (Wenders): Time for bed, Jakey. Say night night to Daddy.

Dad (Phil): Night Jakey. Jakey? I love you.

Jake (after a long pause): I love crisps. And sweeties. Night Daddy.

See? Fairly straightforward stuff. I imagine Jake's internal monologue went something like...

"Daddy said love. Love means things I really really like. Mmmm crisps. Mmmm sweeties".

I'm at a loss as to how to explain these from our journey home from Grandad Mac's yesterday, though...

"I SAID cars don't go in mouths!"

and

"Lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights  lights  lights lights lights lights  lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights lights"

Answers on  a postcard, please!

During the same journey, Michael wanted to keep playing Breaking Benjamin's Diary of Jane on the iPod, which we've got rigged up to play through the car stereo's speakers. Finanlly convinced that he liked it too, Jake started asking for the "diahorrea song". It'll never sound the same now.

"I'm still trying to find my place in the diahorrea Jane". Nice!

Night!

PS have you noticed that when you type the same word over and over again, it stops looking like a real  word?

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17:01:13 o'clock BST
Feeling Quiet
Hearing Breaking Benjamin, Diary of Jane

Okay, so I talked in my last entry about blog types. I think this is going to turn out like a diary entry, so look away now if you're not interested (or if you plan to watch the match later and don't want to know the score just yet).

I think all readers know that I'm in a choir. Scratch that - it's not a choir, it's a chorus. I just say choir because more people know what I mean. It's a ladies' barbershop chorus. I joined this time last year, and had to pass an audition to get in. To get to the next stage in the process - to become a full member - I'd have had to pass 6 more songs in 6 months. I didn't do that, because I took a break that lasted quite a new months due to work commitments. I joined the chorus again about a month ago, and they wanted me to try out for a new part - tenor - which is the high pitched harmony part. I had to retake my audition on Wednesday in my new part, and as part of a quartet. I passed, yay! Go me!

This entry isn't about that, however. I went to visit my grandad yesterday - pictured above with my youngest son, Jake. It struck me afterwards that both the oldest and youngest member of my family were together in the room, and I'm glad I took a picture. My grandad looks very ill in that picture  - that belies his real appearance. He had a pretty serious stroke last year. He's made a fantastic recovery - he's a fighter. He's nearly 90, you know. He spent most of the 2nd world war as a prisoner in Germany. He doesn't like to talk about it, which I understand. I'd be fascinated to hear more - maybe I'll get the old duffer pissed one day and press the issue.

Anyway, that STILL isn't what this entry is supposed to be about. It struck me this morning that hospitals have played a huge part in my life in the past couple of weeks, despite the fact that I haven't been near one. Listen to this...

- my sister and 2 of her kids were due to visit me for a couple of days last week. The night before she was due to fly down, she was very ill with what turned out to be food poisoning. She kept fainting and doing something that I don't really want to go into here for reasons specified in an earlier entry (parent might read). It involved something beginning with "p" coming out of somewhere beginning with "a". Anyway, she ended up having to ask her husband to call an ambulance. Luckily, she made a superfast recorvery, and was still able to visit.

- my mum, who's staying with my grandad for a couple of weeks, had a sudden, inexplicable pain in her leg last Saturday night. She ended up falling over in the middle of the night (trying to get painkillers)  and was unable to move. She ended up there - on the floor - from 1am to 8.30am because she didn't want to wake my granded. He called an ambulance, and off to hospital she went.

- my aunt - who normally looks after my grandad - had to go to hospital yesterday for a pre-operation meeting. She doesn't want the op, because she's worried about not being able to care for him. Therefore, she didn't show up for the appt. Argh.  My mum's wishing she didn't live so far away.

- my dad - who had a fall in July and smashed his shoulder - is currently having an operation to clear out an infection in his arm. He might have to get all the metal they put in there to hold his arm together taken out. I don't like it. **Update** Since writing the original entry, I've spoken to my dad post-op. He's doing okay.

- my partner, Phil, is currently on his way to Liverpool to visit his ex mother-in-law in hospital. She's likely to die today, and he wants to see her one last time. They haven't kept in close contact since he split up with her daughter, but at one time, she was like a mother to him. His own mum died when he was 10, and Margaret rescued him a few years later. He still calls her mum. I've only met her a couple of times, but I've heard enough about her (from Phil and his daughters)  to know that she's a good woman, and this is a sad day for many people. She's a woman of faith, and firmly believes there's a place in heaven for her. I hope that's as much comfort for the people she leaves behind as it has been for her. I'm not a woman of faith.

So - hospitals, hospitals, everywhere hospitals. None of it's about me directly, but all this hospitalness in the space of just over a week strikes me as a bit weird. I guess I'm the lucky one of the family!

Ta-ra.

Wenders :)

 

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14:06:37 o'clock BST
Feeling Chillin'
Hearing Michael practicing guitar (see picture)

Well, let's get this out of the way. Call me slack Alice. It's been a week and a half since I updated this thing. Urgh. For the first few days I was all "ooo, I could put that in my blog, if only I had my computer with me", but I must admit that in the past week or so, the inclination to commit my thoughts to text has eluded me.

Which leads me to talk about what all bloggers (am I one??) seem to at some stage in their 'career'. What's this blogging thing all about? I don't know what mine is yet, but having been a reader of other people's blogs for some time, I'd break them down to the following loose categories:

- Online diaries - simple accounts of what the writer's been up to
- Collections of interesting observations or funny stuff
- Vehicles for slagging things or people off
- Opportunities to show the world how clever you are (more about cleverness in a future entry, I suspect)
- A meeting point for friends and families - lots of comments and links to each other's blogs/web pages/profiles
- Passion blogs - people who love a particular thing (band, cars, whatever) and want to write about it on a daily basis

Oh, there are many more, I'm sure - but I'm boring myself. The blogs I most enjoy reading are a combination of the above - without too much of the final item, unless I happen to share that person's passion.

This is where I get confused. I'd like to spend quite a bit of time on where I'd like my blog to go. Who would I like my audience to be? Do I want the world to see this, or just the people I know? Should I swear in it, or would I worry about what my parents might think? I think I might internalise this particular process. I guess it'll be what it is, and if I start planning it, I'll fail.

I still keep coming back to the question - why would anyone care? I think I'll treat this as an opportunity to improve my writing skills, and see where it goes from there. Please, lord, let me say something interesting.




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15:48:14 o'clock BST
Feeling Happy
Hearing Guitar Hero (Playstation 2)

Happy Saturday, you.

This weekend is what I call a kids weekend in chez Wendolyn. That means my stepchildren Adam (9), Alice (12) and Josh (9) are here. My oldest son (12), who lives in Aberdeen with his dad, is also coming today. I haven't seen him for 4 weeks, so I'm very much looking forward to his visit. He's staying for 2 weeks - the whole duration of his tattie holiday.

We lead a very complicated family life. It feels sort of the wrong way round - Michael living with his dad. He moved north in the summer after us talking about it for 2 years or so. It was a tough decision, but the right one. The school he goes to in Aberdeen is far superior to the one he was at here, and as well as being with his dad and stepmum, he now lives close to his extended family. It means I now make more time to visit my family up north, too. The downside, of course, is that we have to miss each other now.

Anyhoo, the sun's shining and I'm off to the airport soon to get the little fella. I know I'm in for 2 weeks of hearing about how many girls have asked him out and how cool he is. Today's a good day, if a little noisy.

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11:08:32 o'clock BST
Feeling Chillin'
Hearing Scott Matthews, Elusive (again)

This is the song I'm loving most at the moment ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NAcP-HT_wM0

Also, if you - like me - have been wondering what the hauntingly beautiful music in the background of the Prison Break trailer on UK Gold is, it's John Turnbull's In the House - In a Heartbeat (also from the 28 Days Later soundtrack).

Wendy :)

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20:48:32 o'clock BST
Feeling Frustrated
Hearing Autumnwatch

Good evening lovely reader.

Although I love to listen to music, I've developed a habit of listening to radio phone-ins on my way to and from work. Inevitably, this leads to irritation on my part - probably not great, since I'm very often already a seething mass of rage because I'm driving.

Actually, before I continue with the phone-in story, I want to qualify something. I love driving. It's only other drivers I can't stand.

So there was a phone-in on BBC Radio London yesterday in response to the EU ruling that employers can continue to reward workers by paying them more for long service. Somehow, this evolved to a debate about working mothers. It was at about this time that I started to get a little bit agitated.

Some guy phoned in to rant about these bad mothers who "want it all". He used the words "greed" and "selfishness" amongst others, and made the ascertion that mothers who work full-time are bad parents. His view was that if they wanted to "have it all", they shouldn't have kids. Now, I've no doubt that there are many people who don't work who are better parents because of it. I don't mean they're better parents than me or other working parents. I just mean that it works better for them if they don't work.

I think if someone's a bad parent (whatever the hell that means), they're going to be that way whether or not they work. If I was in the fortunate position of not having to work - or being able to work part time - I'd be just as good a parent as I am now. No better, no worse. My family's life would be different, for sure, but not necessarily better. I make time to read stories to my kids, to play games with them and all that other good stuff. My youngest (nearly 3) goes to a wonderful nursery next door to my home. The women who work there are LOVELY, and being with the other kids his own age is great for his social skills. Interestingly, he eats much better when he's there than he ever has at home. Therefore, his physical and mental development is probably going to improve becuase I work. So there.

So, my judgemental friend (I don't mean YOU!), please don't judge my parenting skills on the simple fact that I work. Bully for you if you can afford not to work, or if you don't mind being on benefits. That doesn't make you a better parent than me, or the many wonderful working parents I know.

Anyway, you should be glad I'm a parent. I produce beautiful, intelligent children. How could I not?

 

 

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14:59:03 o'clock BST
Feeling Silly
Hearing A friend's stream of swearwords :D

This is my favourite recipe ever- spinach gnocchi. Sounds sort of healthy, huh? Forget it. Prepare your arteries for serious cloggage. This picture, by the way, is not of my own spinach gnocchi. Mine looks much better - I just didn't take a photo. I will next time, promise.

Please excuse all the 'somes" in the recipie. Not much use, but you can experiment. See below for what you'll need to do...

 

 

 

 

 

Take...

A pack of gnocchi

About half a bag of frozen spinach (fresh is good too, but more work)

Some white stilton (with apricots/blueberries, etc is fine if you find it as hard as I do to find it plain) and some grated cheddar (I favour cathedral city, personally)

Some sun dried tomatoes

A couple of normal tomatoes

Some button mushrooms and a couple of shallots

A big F-off tub of double cream

Herbs and seasoning: garlic, basil, salt, pepper

Soften the mushrooms and shallots with some olive oil in a frying pan for a couple of minutes. Add a couple of cloves of garlic (sliced), some salt and some pepper. If you want, bung in some wine (red or white, doesn't matter), and let it reduce.

Add the cream and the stilton, chopped into chunks. Put the spinach in - if it's frozen, defrost it first, then get rid of some of the water.

Cook the gnocchi, according to the instructions on the packet. It's dead easy, and takes a couple of minutes.

Stir the sun blush tomatoes and basil into the creamy spinach mixture.

Tip the gnocchi into a lasagne dish, and smother it with the mixture. Bung some sliced tomatoes on the (top (this is the clue that the picture isn't of my gnocchi) and sprinkle on some grated cheese.

Cook in the oven (gas mark 5ish) for 40 minutes, and serve with some crusty bread - just in case the carbs in the gnocchi weren't enough for you.

Enjoy.

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10:47:22 o'clock BST
Feeling Frustrated
Hearing Catatonia: Road Rage

This isn't a picture of me, it's Cerys Matthews from Catatonia. My boyfriend fancies her. I met her once, and she wrote a really great autograph for him (Hello, Phil - where were you, gorgeous? I was waiting for you!). Anyway, this entry isn't about that.

I'm quite a calm person, normally. Indeed, more than one ex boyfriend described me as a calming influence. I undertook some management training last week. Actors were playing our direct reports. When I tell people that, they're generally all "oh my god, that sounds AWFUL". I thought it was great - probably because the actors were so convincing.

Anyway, I had to hold a pretend underperformance meeting with Ben - the guy playing my direct report. He pointed and shouted at me, but I remained calm, until afterwards when I blubbed like a baby. My point is, however, that even though I was so caught up in the act that I forgot it wasn't real, I didn't get cross. I can ignore toddler tantrums until the cows come home.

Why, then, do I find myself filled with furious rage practically the moment I get behind the wheel of a car? More importantly - if I decide to ever act on said rage, why aren't I better at it?

I was driving along a residential street this morning, on my way to work. There were loads of parked cars, and I was in a queue. I spotted a gap between the cars, so I went for it. Unfortunately, I misjudged the situation slightly (I assumed the guy in front of me would move further along the queue, instead of leaving a gap big enough for a BLEEDIN' 747, FOR GOD'S SAKE), so I ended up preventing the lady driving the other way from being able to get past me. I gave her an apologetic smile and a wave, as well as a "silly me" shrug. She smiled back. All well and good. Then what did she do? She TOOTED HER HORN! That peed me off.

I rolled down the window and enquired politely, "what do you want me to do, drive through the car in front?". She said - get this - "just turn your back wheels in a bit". So I say, "what do you mean? The steering wheel only turns the front wheels". I don't mind telling you I was internally praying that I was right. Her answer? "What a funny car you have". Thankfully, I had a super-witty retort up my sleeve. You can have this one if you like...

"No, YOU'VE got a funny car".

Thud.

 

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