So, here's something that's been rumbling around in my thoughts...

Who recognises the photo I've attached? No, it wasn't taken on my last holiday to Lanzarote, you silly fools...it's from a film. Close Encounters of the Third Kind (and if you didn't know the answer to that, you actually ARE an alien...seriously, where have you been?) Classic Spielberg.

Well, it was on telly last weekend. I happened to catch it as it started and that was that...I thought, "Ooo, good film. Haven't watched this for aaaaaages" and planted myself in a rooted position on the sofa. Proper potato of the couch variety.

And it IS a good film, there's no denying it. The scenes at the end when the big mother spaceship arrives are fantastic (I don't think I have to put a 'spoilers' warning on this post...I mean, the film was made in 1977 for pity's sake). But something that happens in the last scene just tickled me.

Ok. Richard Dreyfuss...he's obsessed by the aliens. He's seen the little flying saucers. He keeps building mountains. He loses the plot. His wife and kids go to her sisters to escape his lunacy. He drives to Oregon. Or was it Washington? Anyway...he drives to find the mountain. Blah blah blah. So also does the woman whose son was taken by them in an earlier scene (can you imagine if that was your child????!!!!!). At the end the aliens arrive in STYLE, return a bunch of people they've taken over the last 30 something years, and then are offered other humans to take with them. Dreyfuss puts himself forward.

See, here he is. He's being taken by the aliens aboard the spaceship. They seem a friendly bunch. No hair or clothes,but hey ho...pretty much like half the people sunbathing on beaches in the Med.

And off he goes. Into the unknown. Cue credits and very well known theme music.

And I start MUTTERING! Blummin' typical MAN! "Ooo, I feel like abandoning earth and going off with aliens because, coo, that'd be an adventure wouldn't it? And I wanna, I wanna!" Nooooo thought at ALL about his wife, his four (yes, 1, 2, 3, 4) children, not to mention any other family we may not have seen in the film. He wanted to do it, so off he blummin' well went. Absolutely blummin' typical! Selfish to the core! I am telling you, there is not a woman on this earth that would have abandoned her children to get on some spaceship with aliens just for the adventure. It's true, isn't it?

And if there was, we'd all despise her.

Well...it's still a great film...and the music's fab *doo dee doo daa daaaaaaa*...but I think Close Encounters II needs to be made when he comes back and sorts out his family life! Ha!

And therein concludes my brain rumblings.

Man on a White Charger...Come Rescue Me!

Well, I have finished marking. 300 papers later and it seems odd every evening NOT to be sitting down to a pile of children's writing. Some great spelling errors in my last batch too...the 'rowman' catholic church, or 'in gou ball' (enjoyable!) or "parrenjrs" (power rangers!) or "it's like doing cat willes" (cartwheels!!!) ...see what I mean about having that seer stone? Anyway...life's never completely free from things to do (hardly!) but I thought I would blog now that I have some time.

I was very disappointed with the company who gave me the marking though. They had said I would "definitely" get another batch to mark (read *I will earn more money* which I certainly could use right now...oh I so so could). And on Monday when I'd sent my final papers in a day early, I rang to ask when the next lot would arrive and they said that I hadn't been allocated any after all. Big sloppy steaming poo on a big fat stick.

I also applied for another 5 jobs last week (Friday was, as they say, 'mental' trying to get 2 job applications in that hadn't even been started that morning...mental I tell thee). Earlier in the week I'd had to nip over to a school about 15 minutes' drive from my house to pick up 2 application forms for infant and junior teaching positions going begging (for a newly qualified 'cheap' teacher who's male and plays the piano, no doubt...). It took me another whole 15 minutes just to find the school (AA Routefinder sucks) and then their car park consisisted of a narrow piece of land adjacent to their fence, with lots of gravel and then their school field. When I parked down there, I realised that actually it was closer to the school office to park on the road round the other side. So I started up the car and began to back out of my space. The back wheels of the car reversed onto the field a bit, but hey ho, no biggie.

Or so I thought.

What I did not realise was that the first foot or so of the field, where it met the car park, was actually a little ridge...a ridge of exactly the height of the undercarriage of my car. Think see-saw. Think balancing. Think wheels spinning round and the car not moving, neither forwards nor backwards.

I began to wonder what I might do, deary deary me, what a predicament, goodness gracious.

Just as I was about to call Green Flag, a gorgeous man on a white steed came galloping around the corner. Oh...alright then...a man who worked for the council and had a white pickup truck came back to his van for a piece of equipment. "Er...help!" I said. He rolled his eyes and said, "I'll come back with my mates...hang on" (probably thinking, "silly mare" as he walked off). The peripatetic French teacher then turned up (just finished her classes for the day in that school and was getting into her car) and admitted that she'd done the self-same thing the week before so that made me feel better...and I got to yap to her in French which was super chouette (she was actually French...we weren't both being pretentious I have to point out...).

And then 3 tanned, muscly, good looking men all turned up to shove me off the ridge, so who's a silly mare NOW then!? Heh! "Helloooo chaps!" is what I was thinking, let me tell you. "Oh dear, I seem to have dropped my hanky as well boys" did also cross my mind. Well, when I walked into the school office I was just giggling all the way. Being rescued had sent me into a girly-girly state of giddy delight! I did mention my dilemma to the school secretaries because I just knew not one person from the school was watching me keeping calm under pressure. Surely that alone was worth an interview? Eh? Eh?

Anyway...those five job applications last week consisted of numbers 33 to 37 in my list of jobs applied for. My friend Mary has bet me a fiver that I will have a job by the middle of September. My response to that was "A FIVER!!!!? A FIVER!!!? That is such a SKANK bet! Come on Mary...make it worth my time!" But no...a fiver is all that's on the table. Ah well...I can spend it on some new ink to print out more applications. Oh wait...A FIVER ISN'T REMOTELY ENOUGH!!! *rolls eyes*

More amusement from children...

I am currently marking children's English tests...which is why I haven't blogged very much for ages, as every spare second I'm reading their papers. It's not always very easy. Unlike maths or science where the answers are mostly just right or wrong (but not always, before anyone starts moaning at me) you have to look at their writing and draw out all kinds of information to level their work. You need a very sound knowledge of grammar just for starters, and also a seer stone wouldn't come amiss sometimes--my mind boggles on occasion just trying to decipher their writing or dodgy spelling, bless 'em. But sometimes the sentences they write make me chuckle or raise my eyebrows in amusement or sometimes just make me guffaw out loud. You can also tell when the teacher's been giving them a lecture about, for example, using better adjectives...when they actually include the lecture as part of their "fun, exciting, interesting and nice" writing! Ha!

Anyway, my favourite things said so far...writing about a game of 'Ponies' as a playground game: "...and you tell them to candter - means run slow, tort - means jog, and gaoopla - means sprint" Gaoopla???! LOL!!! And I thought a tort was a pie...just shows you. Or there was a kid who said that most ponies are girls. Uh huh. If you say so. They must all fight something terrible over lone pony-boy.

And then there have been some funnies written about doing a treasure hunt too, like the kid who said the treasure should be a whoopie cushion (parp! Hands up who thinks this child is a boy?) or someone who said that for their treausre hunt they would invite the Queen and let the Head Teacher go free (Ach, you're sure now? Very kind) and make sure Security are with the Head all the time (can you just see the two big burly, skinhead, sunglass-wearing guards following the Head round the school?). In fact, this child said he would "make sure" the queen would come and (this was my favourite bit) "make a posh people area." Can I be in the posh people area?! I'll throw my teddy out of the pram if I'm not in there! Bet the Queeeeeeen gets to go in there (I heard she was being made to come you know) *sulk*

Of course, not all children are so generous. One kid said that whoever found the treasure then had to give the treasure back to the person who the stuff belonged to. What a crap treasure hunt! Of course, if the Queeeeen was there and I was in that posh area, I might still be swayed to attend....

Another child made sure that people understood that during this treasure hunt "...if a child runs away they will not do it." Absolutely. No running away! Of course, we could always pen them in the posh area.... And one child was very concerned about those security guards not doing their job properly as they said that we should bring a knife in case a big giant bug might attack and we shouldn't be silly either because we might wake up the werewolves. However, they also said that if you believe in magic it will come true. Perhaps they could magic the bugs and werewolves away then, instead of resorting to violence?

And then there are some fabulous spelling mistakes--"plarm trees" and drinking "coonut" milk. Nummy. Coonuts! My favourite. I wonder if the Queen likes coonuts?

But my absolute, 100%, Number 1 favourite made-me-pee-my-pants answer was a kid who was asked: How can you make a treasure hunt more interesting for the treasure-hunters?

And their reply?

"Sell it on e-bay"

I laughed SO hard for a whole minute!! I wanted to give the child a mark just for making me howl!

I still have a few more tests to go before I'm done marking, so this post may very well have a Round 2. Meanwhile, I'm off for a gaoopla down to the kitchen for some coonut milk.

Have you ever felt Mother Guilt?

Oh I had the most wonderful thing happen to me today. I was just loading these photos and whilst waiting for them to do their thing, I thought about it all over again and my heart just filled with love for that child of mine. So...this is what happened.

I had spent all this morning in my office filling out a job application that needed to be in today. It takes forever to hand-write those blessed forms, and then another age to type a good application letter, each one being tailored to suit the requirements of the job in question. I was nearly there...neatly filled out pages on the desk next to me (along with a pile of English tests I'm marking) ...just jiggling with the last paragraph of the letter on the computer. When suddenly I become aware of my 5 year old, Celyn at my elbow. At the same moment as I turned to see her, I also became aware of a cup of juice spilling...spilling...spilling. All over the marking. All over the application forms. All over the floor. So...what's my very very first reaction?

Hands up all you mummy's out there. Come on, hands up. What's my first reaction? Yes, yes...you. You at the back...what's the answer?

Thaaaaaaaat's riiiiiight.

I yelled.

"CELYN!!!!!"

At which point there are two or three heartwrenching sobs and she puts down the paper plate she'd been carrying (and unfortunately balancing a cup on...no wonder it had spilled) and runs bawling from the room.

It is at this point I realise that the plate had on it a sandwich. A cheese sandwich. She had, without any help whatsoever and no prompt whatsoever except her good natured and loving heart...Made. Me. Lunch.

Okay. All you mummy's out there. How would YOU feel in that situation? Just to recap...your sweet little 5 year old has independently made you lunch and you've reacted by yelling at her. Yes, yes...you on the far left...what do you think?

Thaaaaaat's riiiiiight.

I felt CRAP.

For the first time EVER in her life, she had had the ability (perhaps not the first time ever of having the inclination, but the ability) to get the step stool, reach all the right ingredients and do something lovely for her mummy without being asked or helped in any way. And I had been talking to her last week or the week before about how I feel a bit sad sometimes because I'm the responsible adult in the house...running around after her and my mum all the time...and no one does stuff for me. And she had obviously remembered that.

Oh I was so mortified. I had YELLED at her!!!! Bad bad bad bad BAD mother!

I quickly rescued the marking (good grief, that WAS a panic...that's official work!!! However, it was slightly damp on the bottom edge...nothing too bad) and my application (only the back page had to be redone...no biggie) and ran after her downstairs. Poor lamb, she was crying fit to break. Oh I hugged her and hugged her and told her how very much that lovely act of kindness had meant to me, and I apologised and said I was in the wrong, and told her how wonderful she was. And when she stopped crying she said,

"I couldn't cut slices of the cheese, so I had to use lumps." On checking in the kitchen, she'd even used one of her Ikea plastic knives, cos she knows she shouldn't play with metal ones.

I love her soooooo much. It was the most delicious cheese sandwich I ever ate...even if it was lumpy. And I had to get my own juice.

Bus

I teach in Primary at church. If you've never set foot across the threshold of an LDS chapel (and for pity's sake, why not!? LOL), Primary is our children's organisation...we have Sunday School type classes, and activities (Sunday and otherwise) for children aged 18 months to 12 years (when they go into the youth programme). So, my current roles at church are to lead the music (which I love) and to teach the Sunbeams--the 3 year olds. I have three regular children. They're just starting to get to know me and do more than stare at me with big wide eyes during the lessons. Always a bonus.

Well, today this is how it went. The lesson was 'I Am Grateful for Animals.' We talked about the creation, and I had brought in a lovely book all about animals (praise be all things Dorling Kindersley) which we spent ages looking at and talking about (yes, that animal would probably bite you Luke. Yes, and that one. Yes, and that one. Yes, and that one. My, you're obsessed with animals biting you eh? Yes, and that one...). And we decided what noises each of the animals made ("RRRRRRAAAAAAAGGHHH"--my word boys, that lion roar was very loud wasn't it?) And then I taught them about all the things that animals give us. Wool for example...and we sang Baa Baa Black Sheep. Or feathers for our pillows (and no, Jake, feathers don't come off a fish...no Jake, don't stick that there...feathers don't come off a fish). Or we get eggs from chickens (yum yum) or we get milk and hence yogurt and cheese from cows (no Luke, that big brown animal there, that's a cow...that's not a sheep. No Luke, honestly, that's a cow). So I bought in some yogurt to taste (they had two tastes actually cos it was popular). And I bought in some cheese to eat too. And then Jake said (with the accent and everything)--

"More cheese Grommit!"

And I wet my pants. Honestly, I think actual wee did come out.

Peeve...

Had a brief shopping trip to the delight that is Tescos supermarket earlier this evening. And I would just like to say, 'fajita' is not pronounced fa-JEE-ta. It is pronounced fa-hee-ta!! HEEEEEEEEEE people, HEEEEEEEEEEE. And, while I'm at it, tortilla is not tor-TILL-uh. It is tor-tee-uh.

And that is all I have to say about that.

Why do these things always happen to me...?

Back from a weekend that entailed mostly a trip to London Temple (down in Lingfield, Surrey if you don't know it). It is SUCH the trek from this part of the country (4+ hours...which is of course a short journey compared to some people, I know, I know, I know...but when you've grown up in Reading where it's a case of just over an hour and you're being smiled at by temple workers in white, it is a BIG DEAL!).

So, Celyn and I stayed at Rob and Kate's on Friday night (which is already 1 hour closer for me), Kate, Celyn and I headed over to Cardiff to pick up Gil and Eleanor on Saturday morning, and then 1 1/2 hours later we dropped Celyn off with the Pine family in Reading so she could play with Zoe all day (which she loved of course) and grabbed some breakfast munchables in Sainsbury's. Then 1 1/2 hours later (because of car-park traffic on the M25 at one point) we arrived at the temple. Which was, by the way, heaving busy that day.

So. So far so good. Par for the course. And the weather was lush.

As we walk up the corridor upon arriving, some men appeared around a corner heading towards us, and among their number was Bob Turney, an old and dear friend from Reading. I always love to see people down there that I know, so in my usual gregarious manner, I said, "Heeellooooo!!!", held my arms out wide, and we gave each other a big hug. As I was unclasping him, I said, "Oh, is Sue here as well!?" (his lovely wife), and then... and only then... I looked into his face up close for the first time.

This was not Bob at all.

This was a man that looked like Bob. But indeed, was not Bob.

The man who looked like Bob replied "Er, no..." to my request after his wife Sue (who is probably not...let's face it...Sue) and scarpered up the corridor as fast as his legs could carry him.

I, on the other hand, scurried off into the women's changing area after Kate and (completely forgetting myself because I was sooooo utterly mortified) practically YELLED across the room, "Kate!" to get her attention (because in the temple one should be speaking in reverent and calm whispers). Oh noooo, not me. I yelled. After accosting a total stranger.

So. If you happen to know a man who looks a bit like this man (who definitely is the real Bob), who is a Latter-day Saint and who is now regailing you with stories about a nutter redhead woman who obviously embraces people willy-nilly (and who probably needs glasses), then please apologise on my behalf. I really was horribly embarrassed and had already decided if I saw him anywhere else that day I was going to dive off into the nearest room. And if you were in the changing room and heard me yelling, I again would like to offer my heartfelt sorries *sigh*.

As my friend Debbie said when I told her yesterday, "If someone had told me that story without saying who it was that it had happened to, and then asked me who they thought had done this ridiculous thing, I would absolutely have guessed you." *sigh*

Funny thing happened on the way home though. Eleanor (who is 20) is getting married in July, so (as you do) we were chatting with her about all the plans, and we were asking about her dress. She said the bridal shop had been great, but "one dress they made me try on...eeeuuw! It made me look...well, it made me look 25 or 26!!!" "25!!!?" Gil and I said simultaneously. "Oh my goodness...25!!!? Where is this dress and can I have one??!!!!" Love her.

The temple was...difficult. It's where Danny proposed (kneeling on the bridge over the pond). It's where we were married on a beautiful summer's evening. It's where we went when we were agonising over being able to have a child (after 2 miscarriages) and received a good deal of inspiration on the matter. It's a place that's all about eternal families. So perhaps you can understand when I admit I did have a weep when I was there and the visit has actually left me feeling quite blue. I enjoyed the journey with friends, I loved seeing the Pines and Samara in Reading on Saturday, albeit fairly briefly, and I enjoyed staying at the Gilmours. But although I know I should go to the temple, it has such strong and emotional memories for me, I don't know how to overcome those feelings I now get of inadequacy and failure, which are multiplied a hundredfold by being there. And then I feel guilty for feeling like that. Any thoughts anyone?

Blogging and Scrapbooking

I read a website called Mormon Mommy Wars. It's good. And often very funny. They discuss the every-day nonsense that is motherhood. Well... being-a-woman-hood actually. With an LDS twist to the mix.

Today's post was really interesting to me and will be to a lot of you out there too, as it was entitled 'Blogging vs. Scrapbooking or Excuse Me While I Navel Gaze.' The writer's basic premise is (her views, not mine) that in scrapbooking life is pretty-pretty and unrealistic (no poo, no horribly grubby children...unless you're pointing out how cute they are with baked beans all over their hair, no drama about your menstrual cycle...just happy families doing happy things on sunshiny/autumnul/snowy days. Happy. Happy happy happy). Whereas in blogging we tend to write about our children having the screaming ab-dabs in the middle of the supermarket (and how we wanted to just abandon them in the frozen peas section, to be brought up by wolves or gypsies or whoever), or how your mother-in-law is driving you nuts (and that you think she actually was brought up by wolves). The writer of said article says, "Basically, scrapbooks are there to show you the shiny stuff. Blogging is there to show you the poop."

The whole post is right here for you to read in its entirety.

*Taking on a Marge Simpson voice* Mmmmm...I don't agree (now there's a surprise...).

I did leave a lengthy reply to her post (now there's another surprise...) in which I said that as someone who a) Enjoys the creativity of writing through a blog and b) Enjoys the creativity of scrapbooking (oh yes I do!)…they are BOTH expressions through graphic design, art, photography, family history, and creative writing all mooshed together. And for me, anything grimy and gritty is fair game for both blogging and scrapbooking, as long as it doesn’t hurt someone…I just will NOT go into bitching about people in an unkind way anywhere on the internet. It’s not the place (in my mind). Bun fights in public? Nuh uh. They make the thrower of buns look like Trash. With a capital T. (I so want to write 'White Trash' there but then all the white trash people would be offended and wouldn't that be ironic...)

But I would and do blog about illness and I scrapbook about illness. I blog about bad moods, and I scrapbook about bad moods. I blog my opinions about the irritant that is George Dubya Bush and I scrap my opinions about the irritant that is George Dubya Bush. I don't, however, blog my ‘dirty laundry’ …in fact, I am more likely to scrap my dirty laundry (Not literally. Cos that would be smelly. And a bit silly. And did I mention smelly?) and keep it in an album for more private viewing so my daughter can know who I really am...when she’s emotionally mature and ready to (poor kid - you *thought* your mum was a marvel, and in fact she's a headcase...).

Blogging just allows me to get the memories down immediately and probably in more lengthy and wordy detail, and then scrapbooking allows me to get it on in an arty, photography, wordy way, but created over a longer period of time. With glue. And cutting implements. Happiness.

So, in short, I don’t believe they’re “versus” one another at all…they complement one another. And if you like one and not the other, no biggie. It’s when you actually don’t like one and feel obliged to do it from some sort of ‘everyone’s doing it and so I must be a bad mother/person/family historian if I don’t’ point of view that it becomes ridiculous. And slightly deranged.

What do *you* think...?

National Scrapbooking Day!

Oh I just know there are people out there now hooting with laughter, but yeeeees, yeeeeees, mock aaaaaaall you like. There is a National Scrapbooking Day (in fact, it should be International Scrapbooking Day because scrapbookers in North America, Europe, Australia, NZ etc. all celebrate on the same first Saturday in May). So there. Nuh.

And I was happily invited to go hang out with Gil and Katie-Jane and Jan at Sue Winters' house in Cardiff. And the liver and onions lunch at The Quarry didn't go amiss neither.

So, after months of scrapbooking inactivity (cos, quite frankly, every time I even looked at my scrapping stuff I would literally feel ill and panic-attacky), I have completed a page. And by jilly-jingo I did enjoy it. I enjoyed the company of lovely people. And I scrapped some of my favourite recent photos.

So...here you go. April Fool!
I'm off out to watch my girl on a trampoline for a bit and then a mooch round Asda. Party on down. Mwaaah x

Get on Facebook Lee Webb.

Conversation with Celyn...

...whilst driving her to her Nanny's yesterday:

Celyn: Mummy, when is that moneybanks day?

Me: *Looking puzzled* What? What day?

Celyn: Moneybanks day.

Me: *Completely not understanding and racking my brains thinking about something I might have said about money or piggybanks or giving her money on a certain day...* Um...can you explain what you mean? Tell me when I said it.

Celyn: You know. That day you told me about...moneybanks day, when I don't go to school

Me: *Ting...lightbulb goes on over my head* Oooooooh!!! Bank Holiday Monday!! *Now have to keep looking out of my right-hand window whilst driving, so she can't see me struggling like crazy to keep my guffaws of laughter under total control* Yes, yes *breathe, breathe..control, control* ...bank holiday Monday. That's this Monday luvvie...

How cool are these?!

It occurred to me I'd better shift my typing fingers and blog about this, because the video won't be around forever on the site. But wait, I'm rambling. Let me explain.

My mate Lee (who is, by the way, brilliant) 'invented' (created?) a new toy a couple of years ago. It's now on sale in FAO Schwarz in New York and will soon be in Macys all over America. I believe they're in Hamleys in London too. Well, aaaaaanywaaaaay...you've heard of Martha Stewart right? The cooking/home decor/general homemaking guru type person? Well, she has a TV show in the States and Lee was asked to be on it. With his toy. Knitwits. I'm not calling you knitwits...that's the name of the toy, nitwits!

So, last week he was on the show (he told me it was all very nervewracking..."don't look straight at the camera, got to get this done in one take (no pressure), be generally wonderful, ya di ya di ya") and this week the show is on her website. Oh yeah baby! So I got to watch my friend (who is truly one of my dearest friends, and yet because of that great big Atlantic Ocean in the middle of us, I haven't seen for...ummm...13 years now). Fun fun fun.

Bit of trivia...when Lee first graduated from university and moved to New York, he shared with 3 friends...one was Brett Helquist who is the illustrator of the Lemony Snicket books (A Series of Unfortunate Events...you know the ones), and another housemate was Rob Blackard (who I met on my trip to NY, NY 13 years ago as it happens...funny guy) who all scrapbookers out there will know as Rob from Rob & Bob Studio. Quite the household...

Aaaaaaanywaaaaay...here's the link to the video. You need to go to the right of the screen and click on the picture that says Quentin Webb Crafts (Quentin is Lee...I can't be tiddled to explain). Watch it. Enjoy the toys (they are REEEEALLY cool). Order one. Order TWO. Order some socks. Or go and pick your nose and do your dusting. Whatever.

Oh.

And the socks they're made from (LittleMissMatched) have a part of their website dedicated to these little fellas...each one has a personality you see. It's all to do with where odd socks disappear to... so check that out too. Click there...there...on the LittleMissMatched link...just there...). Bossy moo.

Mwwaaah x

What could YOU look at for eternity...?

...because I decided on Monday that one of my favourite things to stare at for an inordinate amount of time was bluebells. The colour of them is just wildly lucious and does things to me that might verge on rudeness. But only verge, cos I ain't THAT weird.

Not being a proper local to these 'ere Welshy parts, I had no clue where to even find a bluebell wood. Now, give me a Spring day in Reading and I could pootle off to any number of places of flowery loveliness, but round here, I am twp on all matters of bluebellness. However, I discovered that the beautiful Clyne Gardens in Swansea was the place to be and so, for Family Night, Celyn and I headed over there, camera in hand, child dressed in complementary colours (oh yes...of COURSE! And don't even ASK me about the bright yellow plastic binoculars she decided she had to bring, because how I managed to withhold wigging out at her is probably down to several deep breaths and a determination not to bring contention into the proceedings - LOL!).

So, here are the fruits of my labour. Clyne truly is a beautiful, beautiful park and worth a visit should you ever be down this way and you like a tree or two. Or indeed a bluebell.














The park also has, amongst many other plants, rhododendron bushes. Celyn posing with one of the petals that had dropped to the floor
Clyne Gardens is on the side of a hill and the sea is only a quick walk away from the bottom end of the park. The view from the top is lovely across Swansea Bay, Port Talbot in the distance.
Celyn loved the freedom of being outdoors. She was hard to keep still for a good photo!! This is her running, running, running!



At the top end of the park, by the entrance, is a little animal cemetery. Seriously. Dogs called Joy and Saucy have been buried there since the 1930s. Celyn enjoyed reading each of their names.















Funny conversation I had with Celyn today:

(additional information you need to know is that in her bedtime prayers, she always asks Heavenly Father to bless her with "no bad dreams" because she hates having nightmares)

Celyn: Mummy, do animals dream?
Me: Yes, I'm sure they do. In fact, I know they do because I've seen dogs twitch and wimper and wag their tails when they've been asleep, because they've been dreaming about something.
Celyn: So...are all their dreams good ones then? Because dogs can't say prayers...
Me: Good question Celyn...good question

Get on Facebook Lee Webb.

Britain's GOT TALENT!!!

I just had to share this clip (post below) from Saturday's Britain's Got Talent. I just LOVED this act, on so many levels! I think Amanda Holden summed it up perfectly!

Just for starters, the Michael Jackson dancing at the beginning was surprisingly good, although I did think, "Oh no...not ANOTHER Jackson tribute." And then the whole geezer with the broom fitting into the act was just HILARIOUS. Seriously, WHO can keep still with that great Punjabi music playing. So fab! Even Celyn started leaping around the living room to it :D Add Ant and Dec being their usual warm and witty selves, and that wonderful London crowd (they were just SO London! YEY!) thrown into the mix, and you have a winning bit of Saturday night TV for me.
I always get misty-eyed when I see people achieving like this. I tear up EVERY time I watch it. Dappy woman. I'm the same when I watch someone win a great sporting event. Am I alone in this?!

Oh...scoot to the bottom of this page to pause the Newton Faulkner music when you're watching the vid. Obviously.

Suleman (Signature) - Britain's Got Talent 2008 - Episode 3

Cranford! Cranford! Cranford!

Now, because I've been a bad blogger you lot out there may not know that I was completely, totally and utterly in love with the BBC drama 'Cranford' that was shown at the end of last year. Five one-hour moments of pure, unadulterated TV pleasure. And the last episode?! Well! I could barely contain myself, it was so intense in its emotional attack on my senses. Julia McKenzie's sterling monologue where she describes Miss Mattie's kindness when they were young ladies was truly a work of art. Philip Glenister and Alex What's-his-socks (Etel...that's it) as the estate manager and young boy he takes under his rather manly arm (phwaaa), and Francesca Annis, Judi Dench and Eileen Atkins were all worthy of damehood. Oh, the lovely doctor and the beautiful girl of his dreams...just fabulous. And of course, not to forget one of my very favourite actresses ever, Imelda Staunton and her most hilarious one-liners (she had me roaring with laughter every episode, the best of which was "...and ONE of them had...A HUMP!!" Genius.

I said at the time, 'That Cranford will be up for a slew of BAFTAs, you mark my words' and look, by golly, I'm right. The TV awards are on this very eve, and I am eagerly awaiting them (just LOVE an awards show) (followed by Desperate Housewives...must see TV evening coming up :D). So, in time-honoured tradition, I shall post my guesses for the winners, to see how I do. I expect Rob and Katie-Jane will be doing the same...phone calls between Pontardillydoolay and Usstrid Mynachie will ensue...

Before I begin, I would also like to say that I actually DON'T watch THAT much TV (seriously, I really don't) so I haven't watched 80% of the nominations, so a lot of this is pure guesswork. So.

Best Actor: Matthew MacFayden for Secret Life (just because he's a bit yummy really, oh sad lusty woman that I am)

Best Actress: Now, how hard is this? Eileen Atkins AND Judi Dench both up for Cranford. Aaaagh. Eileen Atkins. There. Done. Eeek. Hard one. Or perhaps it'll be Judi...shall I change my mind? No, no...can't decide. Both. There. I can't decide. Both. So there.

Entertainment Performance: Again, this one's hard cos I do like them all except Harry Hill who I NEVER laugh at and I find completely unfunny. Mmmm...I love Stephen Fry but I think it might be Alan Carr & Justin Lee Collins for The Friday Night Project.

Comedy Performance: Mmmm...James Corden for Gavin and Stacey (another hard one. Stephen Merchant and Peter Capaldi I think are both contenders too)

Sky Audience Award: Well, if this isn't Cranford then the viewing public are all asses.

Single Drama: Umm...didn't watch any of them. Right...The Mark of Cain

Drama Series: Life On Mars (another of my absolute favourites...just LOVE this show)

Drama Serial: Cranford. Cranford. Cranford. (um...Cranford)

Continuing Drama: Eastenders

International: Heroes (not seen any of them but heard a lot about this one on the grapevine)

Factual Series: Tribe (cos it's made in Wales!)

Specialist Factual: The Genius of Photography (cos I agree with the title - LOL)

Single Documentary: Beautiful Young Minds

Features: Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares

Current Affairs: China's Stolen Children

News Coverage: ITV Evening News

Sport: Wimbledon (seriously, who knows! LOL I just like tennis)

Interactivity: The X Factor

Entertainment Programme: Britain's Got Talent (another of my favourites)

Comedy Programme: No idea. Haven't watched any of them. Um...Fonejacker

Sit Com: The Thick of It (again, felt vibes about this one)

There we go. Bring it on.

Some days...

We all have them...some days leave us emotionally battered and weary as we skulk off to bed. We might feel unloved, unimportant, lonely, uninspired. Forgotten by heaven. And when we have a run of days such as these, they can leave scars. They test our faith. I know you know what I mean.

So. Yesterday I had one of those days. You know my tether? I'd reached the end of it. And it left me pretty grumpy and blue. Mostly blue. Same when I woke up this morning.

And then...the phone rang at lunchtime and my friend Ros was at the other end of a line of communication. "I was thinking about you. I thought I needed to call," she explained. I told her all my gripes, why life was particularly hard today, and she (it turns out) had the perfect story from her past to help me. Her mother had had a similar...in fact, worse...experience to mine and once again I learned that, damn it all, I am NOT unique and I am not special...but in a good way! In realising that we share common experiences, we understand that we are not weird or crazy or stupid. We're normal. Our self-esteem increases...our hope. And thus our faith.

Without judging my less-than-spiritual moaning, Ros was able to explain why she felt things had happened the way they had and suddenly I felt supported and loved. I always marvel at the capacity that women have to do this - we have a great, great gift in the way we connect one with another. Then Ros and I had a good old natter and a laugh about her family's recent holiday to Utah (I was amazed she hadn't bought a KitchenAid that was on sale for $205...that's just over a hundred quid folks. Was she a crazy woman!!!!???) By the end of the call, the little black cloud over the top of my head had floated off to precipitate on some Welsh hill, just leaving an artexed ceiling in its place.

And then. Later today I found a way of spending a weekend in Reading and going to the temple on the Saturday for just £24. My friend Steve is coming to Swansea on business and he's going to throw Celyn and me out at Reading on the way back to London on the Friday. We can catch a train back to Swansea on the Sunday - booked seats, cheap as chips. Cheaper than the petrol anyway (it would currently cost me £70 or more to go to the temple and back by car *cough*). So if you fancy meeting up with me, I shall be in Reading 9-11 May and at the temple on the 10th.

And then Steve sent me this. Reflections of Christ: Reflections Slideshow Seriously, you really must click on that link. And turn on your speakers.

And then I felt and knew that God was watching and caring for me the whole time and that despite feeling judged and belittled by others, despite my rebellious heart, He still loved me and he wanted me to know it. He inspired my friend to ring. He gave me a way to get to the temple that I'd been hoping for for weeks. And he filled my heart with beautiful, inspired thoughts of the Saviour.

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Hither by Thy help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee:
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it;
Seal it for Thy courts above.

Some days life is good.

Mormon Slattern in Wales

'SWANSEA, S. WALES -- The kitchen sink and surrounding counter inside the home of Chrissie Willicombe are completely full with dirty dishes and have been unattended for cleaning since yesterday afternoon's roast chicken/bread and butter pudding repast. This morning numerous dirty plates, saucepans, roasting tins, and even a container with left-over gravy have been identified in the home of this Swansea County resident. "There's something about doing the dishes at the end of a pleasant Sunday" explained Chrissie. "Desperate Housewives was coming on, and I just didn't want to do them" she whined.

Shocked eyewitnesses to the scene have been taken aback at this lack of homemaking skills in the well known Mormon housewife's home. "What a slattern" one woman commented, who asked not to be named. "She's just a pig and that's all there is to it" she continued.

Almost all would agree that Chrissie has greatly improved in her domestic endeavors recently, particularly in her organisation of cupboards, tidying out the family car and the general order in her livingroom. Her kitchen, however, leaves something greatly to be desired. Visitors stand a large probability they will view the unsightly pile of dishes, utensils, cookware and cups, should they enter the kitchen.

The news of Chrissie's unwillingness to load her dishes in the dishwasher is seen as a major public relations blunder for her hypocrisy. Last week, Chrissie declared "victory over procrastination," when she spent two hours cleaning and vacuuming her car.

Environmental health officers have been alerted, and may be shutting down the property until a full investigation has completed.'

So, back to last weekend, and how freaky was the weather?! On Friday it was beautiful sunshine and we were wandering around Reading in t-shirts enjoying 17 degrees C lovely Spring weather, and this is what we woke up to on Sunday morning...

Before
After

When Judith heard me stirring on Sunday morning, she knocked on my bedroom door and asked if I'd looked out of the window. There were audible gasps when I drew up the blind. Four inches of snow! Of course, being the record-keeping-pain-in-the-bum mum that I am, I had those children out in the garden before they could say 'frostbite' and got some great shots. It is so weird still to me that it snowed in APRIL, I look at these pictures and think perhaps it was actually movie foam snow and someone tricked us :D

You'd think they were sisters, the way they're dressed so similarly. Or even that I'd planned it for ease of scrapbooking the pics. But no. Complete coincidence (and Judith and I have the same taste in coats :D )

Right. Off to see to the Pen-y-Fan of washing up....

Get on Facebook Lee Webb.

Right. Enough's Enough

I used to be really good at blogging and then life went...well...boobies vertical, and I didn't want to do anything much of anything any more. I'm starting to get back in the groove but I'm not completely there yet. Having spoken to other women who've been there and done that and bought the fetching t-shirt, even after 15 months it's still early days. Oh joy. I've learnt a lot about dealing with life, about people and about my relationship with God. At the moment there are more good days than bad, although I did have a weep down the phone to my old bishop last Thursday evening. My mum's health has also, on top of it all, deteriorated in the last 6 months. She can't really make it downstairs at all now and is pretty much dependent on me for sustenance, medicine, the odd choccie biscuit, etc. etc. I feel pretty guilty when I feel burdened by it. After all, our mothers look after us for years and years as children. But I can't say I find it easy.

Anyway...

I'm having one of those Saturdays where you don't do much of anything and that's okay because it's Saturday and that's what Saturdays are for. I realised at only about 6pm yesterday that I needed to get 10 writing and 5 reading scripts marked for NFER and emailed off before midnight. I could only start work on them once dinner and child were sorted, so they actually went about 2am or thereabouts, but she (my team leader) was none the wiser. The point was they were in her email box this morning - *phew*. I am doing some work for NFER (National Foundation for Educational Research) as a marker of Year 3 English tests, for which I had to attend a day's training in Slough last weekend. *Insert picture of me doing a litle bit of a happy dance* It was just a complete pleasure to be in the company of teachers as a PEER once more. Made me truly realise how very much I have missed teaching. The other ladies in my group were great, and we had a bit of a laugh as well as working hard.

The other up-side of the training day was that they paid for all my petrol (and some...and then some more), so I was able to go to Reading for the whole General Conference weekend for nowt, and hang out with lots and lots of friends. Gosh I love you all...and you know who you are.

On the Friday I got to Reading by lunchtime (impressive for me, Mrs I-will-leave-at-10.30-and-then-I-don't-actually-leave-till-half-past-1) and met up with my old workmate, John. On Facebook I had mistakenly left the group 'The Sweeney Todd Pie Shop Appreciation Society', naughty naughty girl that I am. Upon seeing this, John had sent me a message basically asking if I hadn't quite lost my mind and "these ARE THE Sweeney Todd pies you understand...you do understand that, don't you?!!!" Duly chastised I rejoined toute suite ("Order has been restored to the universe" he quipped) and I suggested we meet up for lunch when I was in Reading. Cor, I had a lovely chicken, broccoli and Stilton pie. Wicked lush it was. And the company was excellent too.

The training got out early so I was able to get back to the Pines where I was staying in time to head up to Saturday's General Conference session. As it was President Monson's first conference since he became President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a Solemn Assembly was held to sustain him and the other General Authorities, including a new Apostle, D. Todd Christofferson. Each quorum in their turn had to stand and sustain our leaders by the raising of hands...and it was pretty powerful stuff. I felt proud to stand with the Relief Society and add my vote. My favourite talks over the weekend were Concern for the One by Joseph B. Wirthlin, and Faith of Our Father by Dieter F. Uchtdorf (I just LOVE LOVE LOVE that he's European and it shows...). These talks were inclusive and caring. And both of these men are 'themselves' when they speak (unlike Kenneth Johnson's breathy fakeness...gah! And I know I'm not the only one who noted it. And WHAT is his ACCENT all about?! He's from Norwich for pity's sake!). Anyway...click on the links and read these talks. Do as you're told. Ha ha!

I need to go make dinner but I shall blog more later.

Get on Facebook Lee Webb.

So here's a bit of trivia...

I was reading Andrea's blog http://just-about-perfect.blogspot.com/2007/11/book-shelves.html and she says that she was reading a parenting magazine which said that children under 7 just can't look at book spines on a bookshelf and take a book out. Or put it back. They just CAN'T. It's not that they're lazy toe-rags, pulling every book off the shelf and leaving them all over the floor, and then putting them in a PILE on the shelf when you tell them for the umpteenzillionth time to put them back again aaarg! Not that I've had THAT experience. Ha.

If I went and took a photo right now of Celyn's room... *sigh* And on looking for an appropriate photo of a messy bookshelf to brighten up my post, I then saw this picture...of COURSE that's why they have those sorts of bookshelves for kids. There's actually a psychological reason for it that I'd never known about before. So the article Andrea references there makes SO much sense to me.

However, Celyn (and I) have a gazillion children's books, so how can she look at them and put them away more easily if not on a shelf? And the shelf pictured is £120 so that's not happening either (not that it would hold all her books).

Answers on a bloggy postcard please to the usual address.

Are you speeeeeeshaaaall?

Actually I do have a particular revulsion for that spelling of speshal...I mean SPECIAL!!

I've been pounded by life this year and I feel pretty vulnerable at the moment, so I'm commencing my blog by invitation only. I enjoy blogging and do feel the urge to write again...I guess I stopped because I felt like a fake, not really giving a true picture of what was going on in my life. And the harder life got (because it's been really bad sometimes) the less I wanted to write anyway. And as things have played out, I was right to trust my gut feelings about telling all the world my business...they haven't all treated that information very well. But I do have a goal to be a 'kind blog' so I'm not going there on here.

So, if you're reading this, you've been invited by me and you're special. Not in a clique way you understand. In a protecting my fragile self kind of way? Comprendez? I hope you can respect that? Blogging is very much also about me keeping a diary in a way so it'll be good to get back to that and I'll be writing copious amounts very soon. And if you want to read it, then that's fine and dandy.

Thank you for being my friends ...and I've never meant that more.