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It’s ok to just be ok

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So.  I’ve had enough of trying to accommodate some people.  If people want to be my friend and be a good friend, then they know where I am. They know how to contact me.  I’m pretty much done with always being the one to make first contact.  People are busy I know. People have their own lives.  Sure. But it doesn’t take a moment to spare someone a thought and drop them a text, whatsapp or messenger or whatever.

With that in mind I know a couple of heads I need to reconnect with and I shall go old school and telephone them at the weekend.


Meanwhile, I’ll go to school.  Teach my lessons as per my plans.  Change them as and when I need to.  I’ll mark, I’ll come home. I’ll go to bed. Sleep the sleep of the just – possibly unjustly. Or maybe I’ll lay awake pondering about life, the universe and everything. 

I’ll teach my swim classes on Thursdays and Fridays and hope nobody drowns and the parents don’t think I’m a complete fucktard.  If they rebook the classes then I’ll know I’m doing alright.  If they take their business elsewhere and I end up being asked to leave then I’ll know it’s not for me.

And that’s fine.  It’ll be what it’ll be.


I’ll cook and clean and keep house and parent as best I can and that’s the way it will go week after week.

Every now and then I’ll do something different. Like on Saturday when I went to Chester and took my mum and sister out for afternoon tea for Mothers’ Day.



Once in a while the planets will align and the gods and goddesses of all that is mysterious and magical will smile upon me and, after a pointless tiff with Bman,  he will apologise like this.

And that’s okay (although the spelling and grammar is NOT).
It’s okay to just be okay.





A year in the life…

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One year ago today I flidded out at the end of one shite working day too many. I was driven home by my friend in tears after ranting at the school secretary.  I sobbed on Bman and then took to my bed.

I then didn’t go back to work for 3 months.

Some people cared enough to keep in touch and come visit me.  Some sent love tokens.  Some sent not particularly helpful but nonetheless thoughtful texts of encouragement.  Some people did bugger all. Couldn’t even be fagged to send a text.  Maybe they didn’t give a shit.  Maybe they were scared of what to say, because people are afraid of mental health issues.  

My family were fab.  The usually reticent, emotionally stunted, least empathetic man I call my husband, was surprisingly caring and patient.  He didn’t want me to return to work at all but I’m too used to earning my own money to rely just on him to pay the bills.

I don’t think I was really aware of how low, crap, sad, worthless, tired and unhappy I was  in my life (mostly, but not limited to, my work) until I stopped feeling like that.

I won’t lie.  I sometimes feel myself slipping again.  Particularly in my work. Especially lately.  I do often feel like my soul is being sucked from me.



But I won’t let it beat me.






People are a bit more open these days to hearing that you suffer from the Black Dog from time to time. Although of late it’s a lot more fashionable to have been touched up by a male co-worker or boss (Weinstein Effect) than to be a bit cuckoo.  I wonder what next year’s trend will be?  People will start coming forward to admit to secretly masturbating to Storage Wars or something. #Metoo (that’s not true BTW – I don’t!)

Don’t listen to me, I’m a bit mental remember.  (Just not quite at the juicy fruit stage yet!)

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest


Stay happy y’all.  Life is short.


Welcome to Hoth

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Hello Hello, is there anybody out there?  I can’t tell through the snowblindness,  freezing fog outside and the steamed up windows from my washing drying on the radiator.

Yes.  We had some snow.  Did you hear?  It didn’t seem to get a mention on the news. (FFS!)


Winter is here


But back at the start of the week, before the Beast from the East blew in and reduced lots of the UK to a standstill, we had a training day jolly to the HQ of our new work sponsor.

I’m not entirely sure what the purpose of this day out was. But suffice to say, we weren’t in work and we got a free lunch.  My favourite  part of the day I think was when our tour of the building went Pete Tong.  Our guide attempted to help one of our less able bodied colleagues by taking us in a service lift so we didn’t have to take the stairs. This resulted in us wandering aimlessly round sets of back stairs and ultimately being shown the way out by some kind of janitor.  It was reminiscent of that scene from Spinal Tap when they get lost backstage.  Hello Manchester!

My friend and I went rogue at one stage and went to find a loo after we’d eaten in the canteen.  We didn’t appear to have the requisite MI5 clearance to access the loos we found so we went in search of alternatives.  We then ended up in another servants staircase, rattling doors and walking in on important looking meetings.  Am pretty sure at one point we were moments away from being tasered and bums-rushed outside like Buddy the Elf from the Empire State Building.  I know we were being watched, I saw the security cameras blinking.



The following day I was convinced I’d been singled out for non-conformity and poisoned for not having the chicken pasta. Death to the vegetarian!   My guts were rough and I felt horribly sick all day.  Lurching through the working day like something from the Walking Dead.  After going straight to bed when I got in and sleeping right through, I felt fine the next day.  Then Bman succumbed to it and if there’s anything that man does louder than sing to himself or snore, it’s throw up!  Am amazed it didn’t register on the Richter scale.  He’d only just resumed back to work after 3 days off with the flu.  I hope 2018 isn’t going to be the Year of Physical Sickness.  (Seeing as 2017 was the Year of Mental Illness).

School been closed Thursday and Friday due to the weather and my girls’ got sent home at 1030am on Wednesday so we’ve all been in the house for 5 days. Cabin fever is beginning to set in and if Ocado don’t turn up tomorrow it could go all Donner Party round here. (Apparently they’re going to eat me first because I’ve got the fleshiest bottom).

I did venture to the local shop on Day 1 with my youngest after I’d dug the old toboggan out of the shed.  We then attempted to build a snowman but despite the amount of snow, it was rubbish for construction and the biting wind took the fun out of it, so we abandoned the idea before frostbite set in.

tenor (2)

Popping to the shop – need anything?

On a positive note, I got my first payday this week for my swim lessons.  Score!  Won’t be getting anything this week though as they were cancelled because of the snow.  Our ghost hunt at East Drive was also cancelled.  Everything was cancelled, what am I saying?  Two days of snow and the entire island has come to a standstill.
My (practically) sister in law is stuck working in Glasgow.  My friend was snowed ‘out’ and had to stay in York drinking wine with her sister in law, without husband or childerbeast to care for (tough gig).

The gas is running out apparently and people are freezing to death in the street. How does that even happen in this day and age in a supposedly rich country?

We’re about to fire up a family game of Cluedo while Knightrider is on on the background – because apparently it’s still 1983 in our house.

Keep warm people and stay safe



On this day, you surfed from my vajayjay.

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Happy Birthday to my brilliantly bonkers beauty of a bab today.

Long may your weird light shine so the other weirdos can find you.

We love you way more than all the way to the door .

Rave mama

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Just been busted jumping about in the kitchen, arms aloft to some Die Antwoord while I was meant to be planning lessons. 

Think eldest now has the fear of ‘out of control mum’ for Boomtown Fair in August, when these South African crazies take top billing on the Saturday night.

It’s going to be wild.  

Childerbeast may need to have me on some of those toddler reigns while I bounce up and down like a loon and they stand looking cool and aloof, drinking kale and chia smoothies, excusing me to passers by with, “She doesn’t get out much”.


Banana Brain – Die Antwoord

Baby’s on fire – Die Antwoord

The end (of the hols) is nigh

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Found the cat taking great interest in the two man bobsleigh today. He had his feet up against the TV stand, transfixed and trying to look behind the TV every time the sleigh went round a corner. 

This prompted a conversation about cats taking part in Olympic sports.

And this most excellent of Photoshop effort from youngest Childerbeast.


The end of half term is upon us and not only is it the dreaded ‘back to work eve’ (aka Sunday) 😟 but it’s ‘back to work after a week off’ eve 😵


Bman is at work. Youngest is at her pal’s and going to a gig no less this evening. (Check your exits, stay near your pal’s dad, no booze, no drugs, text me when you get back to your pal’s).  Meanwhile the eldest and I are embracing the Year of the Dog by having a Chinese take-out later.

I might treat myself before that and do the ironing with a glass of the lovely bison grass vodka my mate brought me back from Poland.

Ciao Tutti Xx

Procrastination is the thief of time

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Half term is almost over and I have achieved very little other than winning at being a lazy bastard and waiting for my chin to heal up, while I googled things like – “Can you damage your brain by banging your chin?”.  (Yes, apparently you can).  

We did have pancake day, which was a success mainly because Bman was home to be a top tosser.  Allie’s friend slept over and was also party to the pancake tea.  The next day was Valentines Day. There was no romantic meal out, or sex of any kind, but I did get lots of flowers and a shower curtain (don’t ask). Also a decent cooked tea and I got Bman a bottle of good gin, which is of course a gift designed for the two of us.

We went out en famille for Allie’s early birthday tea on Thursday to Pieminister.  Her choice. Not mine, although of course I was delighted at this choice.  I almost went for the double-pied ‘Tower of Power’ but thought it could be a pie too far in one sitting, so opted for a Mothership instead.

He is called Kevin and he is all mine

On Friday me and the Childerbeast did venture to Manc to have lunch with my bro and sis and the niecelings.  Good job it was payday as the offspring stiffed me for jackets, boots and other miscellaneous crap in Primark and Lush.  I only went in to get some work clothes, but didn’t get anything for myself other than a bra.  In fairness it was a good purchase for a fiver.  Harnesses the old lills rather nicely indeed. Crackin’ in fact.

I did manage to get myself a new swimsuit and rash vest for my upcoming new venture – teaching swimming after school two evenings a week. Yaaas! Getting paid for being in the water. Nice.

Channelling the old skool raver look here, albeit in lycra a couple of sizes larger than back in the day.

Today I had plans to get up and crack on with a half term’s worth of planning but have basically spent the day procrastinating.  I sorted my wardrobe. Sat in bed and finished my book.  Had a snooze, then got sucked into watching ‘The Guns of Navarone’.  Now I’m writing this and soon it will be teatime. It’s burger Saturday but I’m flying in the face of convention and having a fish finger butty instead – because that’s how I fucking roll MoFo!

Rave on!