Wednesday 30 November 2011

Shop? I'd rather drop.


I battled the shops today with two kids. In my heart, it was to be a fun day full of festivities, Christmas shopping, a little mooch in the cherry tree shops, a stop for a well-earned hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows, time spent leisurely marvelling at the wonderful toys and generally enjoying the fact the teachers are on strike.

The reality? A bored, whingeing toddler trying to escape a dodgy, mouldy, wonky-wheeled, semi-collapsing stroller. Which, as the day went on, became more likely to collapse as it got laden with so many carrier bags, I needed one of those lorries behind me, warning everyone of the Wide Load (no, not my bottom on this occasion...something even wider).

The relaxing light luncheon (notice I go for the fancy term) which I envisaged would be in John Lewis (it is quite sumptuous in there in the run-up to Christmas) didn't go according to plan either. The Princess decided she wanted to go to McDonald's for a treat.

Now, I hate Maccy D's with a passion but I thought for a rare treat, why not?

After queueing for 40 minutes (would rather have teeth extracted by Captain Hook) and people-watching (someone tell me, why do ALL boys aged between 9 and 16 look like members of One Direction and wear mustard-coloured chinos which fall off their backsides?) we finally got our mediocre meal, which we ate in seven minutes and then felt starving hungry after. Why do we do it?

Then the Princess decided to hide from me in H&M and I couldn't find her in all the crowds. This also happened in Primark (which is hell in itself). Then the Prince shouted out "I hate you" (he gets it from the Princess) at the top of his voice to me while I tried to put his shoe back on for the six hundreth time (I eventually  took them off and shoved them in a bag).

It seemed the world and his wife were in Reading today. Everyone seemed stressed or pissed. Think I'd rather have been the latter, given the choice.

My mum swears by "what I call" Clickmas. Basically any online shopping and she has a point. It definitely has its merits.

Although I bought some gorgeous vintage Christmas cards, edged with glitter, and all of the husband's presents which I normally struggle with.

On another recent (more relaxing) shopping trip, I bought this Flat Stanley book from Oxfam which I read as a kid. Stanley Lambchop. Love it. Today I didn't get a second to nip to a cherry tree shop (not that I would have fitted in the door anyway, far too wide).


99p for retro capers with Stanley (he's flat, you know)


I never even got that hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows either. Think that's what hurt the most...

 Sometimes I wonder where the hell my children get their energy from. They like a mini disco every night before bed. I literally sit and watch, wondering what the heck has gotten into them. Then they sleep 12 hours through. They'll do it again when they are teenagers. Thought I'd share last night's moments with you!


Tomorrow I am out all day shopping with a friend, something we arranged weeks ago. Only her baby and my toddler in tow. Will I EVER learn...


Friday 11 November 2011

Remember them

The following poem is written by my seven-year-old daughter and the head teacher put her in the prestigious Gold Book for her effort. I feel so proud of her, no one helped her to write it.

The Poppy Blows

The poppies blow
The poppies blow
All shiny and red
In the field
In the field
Where the poppy lives
Always silent
Always silent
The poppy is God
The poppy is God
Over again is blood
The poppy is red
The poppy is red
The poppy blows
The poppy blows
All shiny and red,
In the field
In the field.