A DISH BEST SERVED COLD

WEll anyone who has read me book A November To Remember, and if you haven't shame on you!, will know that I have had bowel cancer and have been renovating my house, at the same time as having bowel cancer which wasn't obviously planned but happened so we had one of two options A. pack up and run which we felt like doing often, or 2. Bulldog spirit , stay and fight - we choses option 2, a framed portrait of Sir Winston hangs in our hall -V for victory- or in our case at times v for vacant as in where are your brains.

It was a living nightmare which without the cancer many would have given up in exasperation, damp, no heating, no electrics, one room shared by all seven of us, we felt like squaters, but as we had far more pressing and important things to deal with it all got lost in one big mess of a mix and somehow we got through.

We are now surfacing from the drowning feeling of property developing, and now have rooms to go to which are bright and relatively clean, I say relatively as goober from the bloodhound hangs from walls and I have even noticed some on the ceiling - well it all adds a certain character doesn't it, so I will deal with that when I have nothing better to do, so sometime never then.

In January however I had a notion to dig up the driveway and do it up, as I was sick of seeing patchy grass and mud from the kitchen window, which is now nearly finished and looks rather splendid.

So armed with a shovel off I pop after dropping of the children to there schools and playgroups to begin the digging. I was however on morphine at the time as I had foolishly eaten at christmas (after the cancer I cannot eat very much but succumbed to the turkey and paid the price with pain) and was suffering from a blockage, I was in the hope that excersise would help shift blockage which I think it did, and got the driveway started to boot , so two birds with one stone.

Afterplaygroup my little one would help armed with a spade and quietly we would dig through the wind and the rain only stopping for cbeebie breaks and of course for me the morphine, which I think was toget me through the cbeebies and not the pain at times - what a load of old tosh.

Then we had the amazing rain and winds which scuppered everything in the front for weeks with a tree blowing down over newly dug drive which now resembled a qwagmyer due to the rain, I began to think, why did I start this - oh shit it looks even worse that it did.

Well annoying neighbour of course thought the same,who I have named PRUNES

P POMPOUS

R RUDE

U UNIMPORTANT

N NEIGHB

E ERING

S cant think of anything for this one, well I can but not printable

for the amount of times they walked past, back and forth and smirked at the fallen tree, if I had a pop gun I could have played shoot a duck like at the fairground, I bloody well wouldn't have missed.So instead of screening themselves from the appaling mess (rome wasn't built in a day you know)what do they decide to do, put up a fence, please please plesae, no,they decide to cut back all the trees which are ours by the way, that run along the flank, so it can be seen even more????,

WHAT!!!!!!

The shame of it was, as we do not speak to them, you can probably see why ,was we where going to have the overgrown bushes cut back anyway to make way for a fence, to block them out - er I mean for privacy, so on the Sunday ready for the tree man to arrive on the monday out we go in the pouring rain armed with loppers and sheers and cut back all the overgrowth leaving a channel by the excisting fence to accomidate the new one, so prune wasted his time cutting back our trees, and as you can imagine was a tad well furious!.

I arrived back from the school run to see Mrs Prune hands on hips staring at me through openness, puffing out her cheeks smoke billowing from her nostrils before huffing into her house and of course slamming the door.

I then had the task of continuing the lopping (tree man had called and said he would be here tomorrow), as rain stopped play yesterday, whilst Mr Prune stood inches in front of me again puffing and chortling a pompous chortle awaiting a response from moi.

Well he didn't get one although I had several things in my mind ready, again none printable, before he went off to slam his wheelie bins and head back into house.

I got the job finished only to receive a call from tree man to say his dog was ill and the job would have to be put off until next month - oh dear, a month of staring from prunes, the thought sent shivers down my spine, so off I pop to the garden centre to buy screening as a temporary measure , which after getting small one into the car, if looks could kill, the way I was being stared at by both prunes through open expanse of boundary, I would be six feet under by now, was a must.

So....., the saga continues of putting up screening for the rest of the week, under stare conditions and tuts and chortles, definately not from us if cbeebies was on, until the job was done, excellent I thought, now you cannot see us but more importantly I cannot see you. And as the best neighbour you can have is a high fence, I beleived job was done, although only temprarily until tree man came with new fence, but for now job done.

Well after they had kicked the posts a few times, no tuts or chortles now, over the next few days, everything we thought had died down, no-one likes change , and as we fell out over the garden not being done a few years ago in the first place - after all we did have a few more pressing things on our minds at the time in our defence 5 children, cancer, after having 6 tonne of aggragate delivered last week the driveway is now done, complete with trees shrubs and planters, all we need now is the tree man to do the fence and remove the poor fallen tree the job will be done.

Even delivery men have commented on how wonderful the transformation looks, from mud patch to low maintainence perfection.

So I go into Kitchen to have a coffee and admire my hard work t'other day and I see my screening moving, prune is pushing into it, undeterred I have my coffee although still watching intently, funny how you get isn't it!, thinking screening only a temporary measure until fence comes, not long to wait, but guess what, now prune cannot see us and even if he could driveway is finished, he decides to put up a fence! Brains or what, why didn't he do it when it was a mud patch instead of staring at me, unless they want to stare? I dunno but it seems rather foolish to put one up now?

So , me thinks I don't need to put one up then, saves us a few bob, which I relay to tree man who was about to order said fence, so just in the nick of time I stopped him.

I cannot understand people, especially ones who have been on this earth far longer than I. Could it be that with age you feel you have the right to be petty and get away with anything? Use your acid tongue at will to spit at people who are guilty of creating change but nothing more? People who saw a chance and went for it, and then through sheer adversity conquered?. I think so, and I guess after all weve been through my husband and I will turn into miserable old buggers, I just hope I get the chance to get that old!, still out of sight out of mind, even though I do hold a grudge, it works for me.

If I HAD however bided my time and thought of a plan of revenge, after the initial backlash form the prunes, to play devils advocate (hmm hmm, theres gambling going on in this establishment) by digging up the driveway -leaving it for a bit, aided by the heavens above themselves with the storms, knowing full well it would drive prunes to distraction, and hopefully put up a fence, the words played fiddle and like spring to mind, it would havebeen a plan of sheer perfection, even the SAS couldn't have executed it any better, dear Sir Winston would have been so proud. All thats left would be to put up the union Jack in the middle of the drive.

But of course I am not that devious, and have far better things to do with my time haven't I?

Flag pole goes up next week!

Bin and Gone!

Wheelie bins, when they first came on the scene everyone thought what a wonderful contraption, god bless the man who invented them. They are relatively easy to manouver , are quite spacious, and easy to clean, I will say it again god bless that wonderful wheelie bin man, that was before we went from weekly collections to fortnightly collections, now I curse the horrible little bugger who invented the damn things.

I can remember in my youth, the bin men bustling down the street, walking up the garden path to hoist a metal bin over there shoulder, which was emptied and then placed back inch perfect in position closing the gate as they left - how far we have come since then......

Nowa days if the bin is a fraction open, it won't be taken, I remember having a conversation over the phone with the refuse office about a such incident when our recylcling bin wasn't emptied as it wasn't completely shut, "health and safety, something could fall out and fall on our workforce" was the responce I got, something could fall out?, of a recycling bin? I can see the headlines now MAN CRUSHED BY A PINEAPPLE CHUNK TIN or SHOCK HORROR TOILET ROLL TUBE FLATTEN BIN MAN, what a load of old tosh.

Strikes me that the lazy buggers will the bins to be open as then its one less they have to empty. Mind you the job nowadays is fairly easy in our road, we all leave our bins at the roadside handes facing outwards for ease of collection, which if we are lucky enough to have them emptied, get strewn along the roadside hap hazard,lids flapping in the wind - it's all wrong you know, what the hell are we paying for.

It is truly a releif to find that the bins have been emptied, as once I did note a little man with the bin men examining the contents of the bins, (yes checking, how very very sad)to make sure that it was indeed recycling in the green bin and we hadn't been so terribly naughty as to put last nights leftovers in , as an act of rebellion. Dear me, its so good to know that the tax payers money is being put to good use, I bet the wheelie bin rubbish checkers mum is so proud of her sons position, all those years of education put to such good use.

Well this week for us it was green bins and garden waste, the latter which we pay extra for I might add. We have two green bins as we have a dispensation form the council for an extra bin as we have a large family (nice of them), which are always brimming, but not open, for collection as they are fortnightly, and as you can set your watch by our bin men, always ready for collection for when they come. Well today they tried to catch us all out, by coming 4 hours early.

There we all are having breakfast, trying to wrestle 5 children into clothes when there flys past the dustcart, leaving our packed to the rafter bins, packed to the rafters as they had not yet been put out by the roadside but where still in the drive.

Total Panic, out I ran in pyjamas and slippers trundling the bins to the verge, I was not alone thank fully as everyone else who had not yet left for work did the same , and there we all stood looking after the fleeting dustcart distressed as to what we where going to do for the next two weeks with our rubbish.

Then, the neighbour to my left who I despise intently, takes off up the road with his wheelie bin in tow chasing after the bin men - this was turning into a farse - Benny HIll must have been smiling down at this point. It was classic comedy, the red faced little bugger set off at speed he was like a whippet, shouting "stop, stop" as he charged forward, I was in tears and not because they hadn't taken me rubbish. I felt like running inside and getting the children to witness this abandonisation of dignity, but couldn't move from the spot. He finally gave up 200ft down the road as the dustcart sped off, not caring to stop, his importance clearly is as lost on them as it is on us, but great comedy value, I didn't care about the bins then.

I left them at kerbside , whilst a neighbour called the council who apparently said, "you should put your bins out the night before" to every question he asked ,he continually kept stating that there is no need as they usually come the same time every week, but was only answered with "put them out the night before", what day is it today ?"put them out the night before", do you like easter eggs? "put them out the night before", It was like a droid with a set programmed responce.

I decided to leave the bins out as I gathered many would complain so the bin men would have to come back, those fiends, who indeed did the next morning and collected the rubbish albeit a day late and of course more of the tax payers money wasted - it was collected.....apart from running mad neighbour who had taken his bin in in disgust and not put it back out, it would have been only too sweet for him to take chase again, but he did not this time, I bet he was still knackered from the previous days excertion 200mtrs wheelie bin sprint, fool!

So next week it is the general waste collection whereas our bin along with the rest in our street will be put out the night before to avoid this disaster happening again - I say disaster far greater things have happened to us but its nice to have this one for a change.

The devil in me does feel like sneaking back important neighbours bin into his drive just to see him jet off again, but of course I am not that sad.............

well not quite yet anyway!

Party Time!

PARTYS!!

"A lunchbox, who invited that kid?"

Those imortal lines from Toy Story, sent laughter through every child in the room. I in fact would have invited the lunchbox kid back , and twice on a sunday as this is a very good present, in the sence that you can actually use it!!!!!.

Party gifts truly take mums and dads to the brink of insanity at times, especially if like me you have several children, which means that storage space is always to capacity, certain things bought for one can be potentially dangerous for another, leading to the gift being packed away until child is out or in bed before it is safe to use without the threat of a trip to casualty at midnight- that one always goes down well - not., and of course on the first glance beneath the shining wrapping paper the first thought bought to mind is oh hell, anything but that.

WE have had 5 birthdays in our house (not including the dogs) since christams and are truly partied out at "pressent" - if you pardon the pun. I have listed my top ten party poopers and bloomers below, so sit back, think thoughts of screaming kids, ice cream on the rug and happy birthday being sung in every octave possible, have thoughts of smashy and nicey, da da da da da da da da da, and read on........

In reverse order, in at....

10. The puzzle: this one is usually bought by a mum with 1 or two children, who just cannot wait to see you in the school playground to ask "did he like the puzzle I got him", closely followed by "I got him the higher age group, as my Johnny can do the younger one so easily, in fact...." yes , yes, he can do this one tap dancing on one leg blindfolded, maybe he should try sudoku?. This is a classic gift from a mum of a small family. Nothing wrong in a jigsaw or talking about your kids acheivements, but as I have 5 of my own, I couldn't really give a buggery b*******s, if Johnny was off to Oxford. My child however tried to do the puzzle in the bath, and no, it wasn't waterproof, 1 down 9 to go!

9. Books: this is a good one as everyone reads, and the children all like a good book. The only thing is we have received some over the years that have been on special from the supermarket at about £3.99 when you get a collosus book with 700 pages , what good value, and a great big pressie to give for less than a fiver with packing. But at 3 years old you cannot lift the bloody thing without a tow truck.

8. Skipping ropes - yes , quite a logical one for a little girl, but when they are on special at Asda you end up getting 10, which in our house get tied together and then lassooed around the two youngest strapping one to a chair, and cocconing the second. After this original game wheres off, they get strewn around the garden, buried in the mud, and stay that way until said child sees a sunny day and suddenly wants one, which after a mass search,(one of nine is all we can find as mummy has been discarding them weekly,), which has by now become knotted and soggy and bears no resembelance to the lovely glittery handled item she was given.

7. Lunchbox, my favourite, something you can actually use for a time after the party, great present, a bit sad, but great for mums.

6. Clothes: yes I can hear groans of boredom from children all across the world, what would you prefer young Johnny, an action man which you can tear its head off, or a t-shirt?, I know which mum would prefer. Having a large family myself, clothes are a godsend, as the younger ones all wear hand me downs so it is a treat for them to receive something with a tag on it!, and no stains. I always actually by clothes, as I know you can pop them in a drawer after the party and make use out of them, so in my eyes my money has been put to good use.

5. Sand art: I think there was a misprint here it should read sad art, does it ever look like the picture on the box - I think not.

4. Scooby - Doos, those hatefull peices of plastic string which when twisted together make a thicker multicoloured plastic string which has no apparent use at all. Apart from giving your poor parents bad backs from picking the damn things up from corners of the room every day and chucking them in the bin.

4. Lego/macano. Oh no bits all over the place, have you ever trod on a peice of this stuff, obviously the people who bought it have not, it bloody well hurts. None of my children have ever spent longer than 10 minutes in our house actually building anything with lego, throwing it at each other yes, building no. But then if I take them to the doctors, dentists where there is lego, they'll play with it for hours?.

3. Beads - beads, beads, beads, why oh why beads. A nightmare if you have younger members of the family, beads to me spell out more danger than what they are actually worth. My girls actually love beads, and I do so love the necklaces and bracelets that they make for me, but what a nightmare to keep.If they are not spilling out of the incompetently made packaging within an hour, you are doing well. We have the added addition over the years of holding a baby under one arm out of distance of the beads in fear of him choking, whilst trying with the other arm to make wonderous desighns with the other 4 children. Once when we had three, my son actually swallowed a rather large seal shaped bead, panic set amongst us, whilst I phoned casualty who asked if he was breathing ok, "yes yes" I frantically replied with my son perched on top of the kitchen table giving him 3 minute obsevations, whilst my husband threw beads in the bin to the wailing of the other child, the baby was fast asleep and missed it all but we checked her for bead inhalation anyway. Then we had the enviable task of checking his stools for the next 4 weeks, yes 4, to see if said seal emerged. It never did, but was very amusing for my son who was 3 at the time, looking round the toilet pan for sammy seal - yes it was named, but no we never found him, and yes again poo was disected. So think again all you pressent givers next time you see the shiny beads!

2. The runner up is, Modelling kits, The idea is of course a very good one. The mum purchasing the pressent pictures the birthday child sitting quietly with there mum making the model and then painting it to box illustration proportions, all grinning broadly and sipping chammomile tea - Wrongo. Whenever we have done one of these ,again it has taken months to get round to doing as there always seems to be something more important to do....., once model making starts, you first find that all bits are not there due to the fact it was opened on the birthday and not put back properly (or thrown away by me- oops), then after getting plastercast stuck in mould breaking it in two and putting it back together with superglue you have to wait an entire day before you can start painting, which in turn leads to more frustration.

Painting of course commences within the hour, with the model looking like a melted popcicle, and childs face resembling the same with tears. So after consoling child and putting the iffy model in the display case, praying that it does not fall apart completely, off we set to buy something in consolation, great present!

1. Glitter, all that glitters is certainly not gold, glitter is a wonderous thing in very small doses, but after a party when all presents are ravaged to see the entire content, glitter is a real no- no, On thing that always used to make us laugh was that my 2 year old could not say gl, and glitter came out as shi......er!, you get the picture. And so did we, glitter pictures in there droves, walls covered , floors worktops, yes that old glitter gets everywhere, and sticks to everything except the bloody picture!.

Please please , all pressent givers out there, stick to the lunch box!