Note to self: remember to plan not to plan...

Well, last Friday, the 18th, already feels a long time ago.... at the time, I was saying - goodbye work, see you next year (ok that's only 2 weeks, but a year feels like a proper break!), bring on Fille Ainee's birthday party and Christmas...
and everything was planned - to the minute. To the list of what to bring and what not to bring where, to who, and why. To each of our movement (go and see so and so, then come back and have dinner with x,y,z); family coming for sleep over, menus, ice skating session with the children, trip to Hamleys (and yes, which trains and at what time we would travel.). All planned to the minute.
But what a working mum should know is that planning was invented by a man (who the hell was it, I'll make a Voodoo Doll in his name...) and therefore is doomed to fail...
It all started on Saturday morning, when a long list of things to do awaited me, to ensure Fille Ainee 10th Birthday Party would be a success in the evening (Thank God for Chocolate Fondues and Pantomime!). So the day started with the "item-non-expected-not-included-in-the-list-of-mega-urgent-things-to-do" (and that did not include - finish the 'winter in wonderland cake which was nicely requested "please, pretty please"). "Why do you keep on scratching your head?". Answer from hell: I don't know, it's itchy. No point looking into it - off to Boots and bought the entire stock of nits shampoo, to then take 2 hours, going through Tink's and FilleA's head. They were not hosting just a nit's family. They had invited their extended family, best friends and everyone they could think of. Never thought there could be so many of the b**** thing....
Then off to the pantomime for the birthday party. Brilliant, can't fault it. Especially as the 'crew' came out during the break and after the presentation, so it felt like the panto carried on in the evening! Watch out for 'Friday' (called Friday cause that's the day he washes!!) who decided to call me Saturday, and to the horror of Tink, decided I was his girlfriend. "You can't marry my mum, she said, my dad is already married to her". Fair enough. http://www.the-theatre.org/content.php?TSID=22724
A very good evening though.

Then discussions started about Christmas - although everything was planned. But FamilyOutLaw decided not to go to Devon anymore, but to spend sensibly Christmas in Surrey, given the warm weather we have had. So CheezyHubby offered our house to Brother-In-Law and his family. "all we have to do is making sure we leave them the keys", said (not so sensibly) CheezyHubby. Answer from WorkingMum: "No problems. That's absolutely fine. Honest" and went one to operate massive deep cleaning of the house (down to the curtains, I know it's mad).... And then decided to watch the news.
Oh Hell. A very rude French word rymes with Eurostar. Wonder why.... the quality of the snow was not good enough for the poor trains and therefore they can't run. You are b*** joking. That's how we were going to France for Christmas. So- Travel, won't travel, travel, won't travel, travel, won't travel (you get the picture). I won't bore you with the number of calls from France and the UK - about whether we should (France) or should not (UK) travel... and I am sitting in the middle - the arse between 2 chairs as we say in France (ie - 2 countries in this case, but without trains linking those chairs...)
Closed on Won't travel. Too much risk that we (the girls) could make it and CheezyHubby who would be travelling on Christmas Eve, would not be able to make it on time and would be stuck in lovely Lille. Cause MrBloodyEurostarIcan'tConfirmAnything cannot garantee that CheezyHubby (MY CheezyHubby) would be on the Eurostar that was planned, and therefore might not be able to get a train on time from Lille.
So let's replan everything for Christmas. We will now be 8 in the house (still not a problem, honest), but blimey, let me tackle that pile of ironing (how on earth can have it become so big??!), do more cleaning, (a bit of work too - but don't say anything!!), go to the cinema (Planet 51 - a good laugh to the expense of our Oversea's Friends), let's think about what we will eat and when, and let me go back to the shops (given that one of the things I do when we go away, is make sure nothing is left to turn mouldy in the fridge...!!).
So - thought I was on holiday. I guess I am. With a lot of imagination - we are on a warm tropical island. Shame about the lack of tropical and warm....

Forgot to mention the snow and ice. Well, we have all seen the snow. About the ice: our pathway to the frontdoor was so icy that you could only slide down. You'd actually need a ski lift to take you to the front door. So decided to tackle the 10cm deep of ice with boiling water (I know - it's the one thing not to do, but in the absence of gritting...). Added salt to it, so that the water won't freeze straight away, and swept it. Which worked. To the point where there is no salt left in the house. So decided to use that mix of 'salt and spice' bought in France a few years ago, but never used it. Spread it on the ground. Did not work so well. Reaction from CheezyHubby on his way back from work: "is this the new version of Christmas at the Kumar?". Opened the door. The spices I used smelt of curry. And yes, it smelt like CheezyHubby had diversed his business in curry houses.... But that was not planning for the girls reaction the next day, when we went out (guess - we needed some salt...). "Mum - someone was sick on our path, how disgusting, why people do that". How do you then explain that yes, the ice has changed to a sick colour and the smell is... but no, no-one has been sick, it's just the latest de-icing technique.... let's just move on....

So, bring on Christmas. French parents will be on their own, while I'll try and cheer up here, hoping Father Christmas brings a Voodoo Doll with Eurostar written all over it. B**** b****. They are now all happy that they are clearing the back log. No wonder, if noone turns up at the station that they will clear it before Christmas, claim that they cleared it so quickly and so well - and no compensation for people's ruined Christmas, who are helping their brand. Mr Brown (not Gordon, the one from Eurostar - actually, that makes me think there might be something in the name!!) is not going to like the letter he will get (ok - i know, he'll never see it - his comms dolly will... oh well - if it's good enough, he might get a climpse of a scan of it. But that would assume that he cares...).
So, bring on Christmas, and now the family in law is coming for Christmas Eve. Father-OutLaw is obviously controlling who will cook what and when; so I had great pleasure in changing plans (why on earth would I get my sister in law, who is staying with us, to bring a curry and cook it here, while I am reading the paper (or clearing that curry smell outside!!!)).... So all that batch cooking is not wasted. Bring on Jamie's pies (Who hate all the pies?!) and pudds!
Merry Christmas to you all - and let's hope 2010 brings better news....
and if any further disaster strike in the household before the end of 2009, well, I am sure they'll feature on this blog in due course!

Don't we just love.....

Don't we (working mums, and mums in general) just love teachers, who make sure they look after mum's times, and ensure that they are never bored... so, FilleAinee is the main part (that is Mowglie not Baloo) in Jungle Book, end of next week. So the outfit required? a white t-shirt (so that will be the one at the very bottom of the bottomless Summer clothes bag, which has disappeared in the depth of loft, somewhere, probably hosting a few spiders already) (And no - before you say, she can't use her PE top, although I am sure that at last minute that will be fine). School logo on Mowglie won't look tooooooooooo weird. Will it??? and for the bottom part of the outfit: a red or orange short. Where on earth do you find this, during first week of December. I so love those people who come up with such great ideas. And my daughter for wanting to be Mowglie. Cause let's face it - if she Bagheera (but there were not many words! so not worth the part by her standards) or Baloo (he is fat - no way, Mummy - you really really don't understand. Of course not. I am your mother. Not here to understand you - just to try and nring a bit of sanity here - fat chance with me though). Anyway - back to the Bear Necessity. Being Baloo or Bagheera would have made sense - and wearing fur at this time of the year to. And less stressful. But don't we just love challenges.
And the next challenge - TinkerBell needs to be in a Victorian outfit for her Christmas play. And she will then wear it for the rest of the day - for 2 days.
Absolutely brilliant idea, I thought. Until the next thought - where do I find that? and confortable enough that she wants to wear it for 2 days?!!!
So back to the drawing board, and the sewing skills will have to (magically) transform some piece of poor material, which probably hopes to be transformed in something nice, into a Victorian maid. Yes - the hat will be the easiest thing. Or is it the socks?!!
So another challenge ahead... but that's what we like after a week at work, and the prospect of a whole week end of Christmas shopping... actually- all I want for Christmas (to be read with the tune, please!) is someone to do my Christmas shopping. Or is that the Internet? oh, oh, oh!
anyway - enough rambling on stuff - back to design this Victorian outfit...

No more disasters....

That's true, I have tried to limit on disasters. The box of hundreds and thousands is still in the same place, but at least, I have not baked anything (burnt anything?!) so no risk is lands in the roast chicken....
Last few weeks have been busy (crazy?) for a change... TinkerBell just spent a day in her future new school (I love it Mummy, it's great). Yes, darling, I was sure you would. And as the deputy head (not so) tactfully put it to me - don't worry, she will have a great day today; and a brilliant time when she joins next year, the difference is that you'll pay for it.
Thanks for the reminder... I had nearly forgotten about that nice little letter, addressed to Mrs only (why do they assume that Mr does not pay?!), at the beginning of every term. Can't wait they finish their studies. Wonder what they will do. Anything. As long as they don't decide to go in a convent (mind you TinkerBell won't last 2 min!!)
FilleAinee has been worried about everything - as usual - from friendship in the classroom to hunger in Africa, where the polar bears will live if there is no ice left for them, why the wind is blowing so madly at the mo (that's an easy one - how on earth would the ground be swept otherwise?).... a great book by the way for worried children: the Huge Bag of Worries. http://www.amazon.co.uk/Huge-Bag-Worries-Virginia-Ironside/dp/0340903171/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1259095906&sr=8-1
Even if your children don't worry about anything - it's worth reading and then next time you get worried, think about the bag! (I do)
Also had a brilliant birthday in Barcelona - best cake ever, followed by best paella ever (and yes, it was at work, it's not like CheezyHubby took me on a mistery trip!). Found a recipe that might match the cake (that's obviously not taking into account the cook - a bit of improvement in baking skills might be required!). It's in French though, so will try it, translate it and post it if it ever comes to anything edible!
More about work? Went to an evening at Westminster, dinners with MPs:
- Mummy, what are MPs?
- People who work at Big Ben, well close to it, it's called Westminster, and they work with Gordon Brown
- Do you know Gordon Brown, have you spoken to him?
Followed a discussion on who I should not behave (thanks girls for the confidence): don't do a Bridget Jones, mummy, like when she said - and I would like to introduce you to Mr, ..., Mr,... Titspatrick - Fitzpatrick, because that's his name. Great. I managed not to do that. Brilliant references for a 6 and 9 year olds. Note to self: review what DVD they watch (thought they were still on Finding Nemo. They clearly found Bridget...).

Anyway - enough for now! Need to go and trial that recipe and make a Victorian Maid outfit for TinkerBell's Christmas play... what was wrong with a Father Christmas outfit or a little Lamb outfit? or a Present outfit??? simply, they would not keep mummies busy for long enough...

Cows, Bridget Jones, hundred and thousands....

Oh. My. God. 3 months. Without writing on this blog. Imagine the poor girls at work - had to listen to all the mayhem that happened over the last 3 months... Rather than reading it.
So what happened? well, slightly busy. But managed to find time to go on holiday, back to French 'roots' . Went for walks, ate the local cheeses (how to please CheezyHubby...), drunk the local plonk (how to please CheezyHubby even more, who at that point also started to talk the local language...). Next day - walked up the mountain, lovely. Except ended up with my left hand the size of a boxing glove. How very sexy. Not. Why on earth do we need Horsefly...
And on the way down, 5 cows decided that they shoudl also go to the top of the mountain and decided they should stop there, right in the middle of the path, and nowhere else to go. What was it I heard on Radio 4 before the hols?? Cows can start charging you??? Oh great... so we decided to take the British approach. Wait and see who gets bored first. We did. We finally decided to pluck up some courage and bravely walk (no run!!) passed them. But they were massive, certainly not the small, fit variety. They also wear bells, and big ones. So as soon as they start moving, all you hear in Gling, Gling. And it gets louder the faster they go (or is that because they are getting closer???). Suddenly, FilleAinee, in a tembling voice: "Mummyyyyyyyy, mummyyyyyyyyyy." "Darling, don't panic, we will be fine." "No, Mummyyyyyyyy, look!!!" I turned around, while trying still to eye the cows (or was it a bull) to....... No, not the cow, but FilleAinee's 2 feet deep in the biggest smelliest puddle of cow pow. Great... that will be nice in the car!! By the way, the jury is still out about that youngest one: if they don't look too happy and have a ring in their nose, aren't they a bull?? Did not really have time to check....

Following day, all tourists (that's us!!) were invited by the village to try the local food. Brilliant marketing. Especially when at the end they passed glasses. TinkerBell, who had been dancing furiously all evening to the local Robbie Williams turned really thirsty, grabbed a glass and bottomed up before we could say 'cheers'. She thought it was water. And it was not. It was the local 75degres liquor. Best way to ensure your children will never be alcoholics.


I have been behaving at home too... Remember the time when the baking powder spread itself all over the kitchen? well... I managed to repeat that. Except this time with a brand new pot of 'hundreds and thousands' - and I now know why they are called like that, although I think I sould have called it 'millions and trillions'. Bloody thing - 3 weeks later, I still find some in corners (I suspect the local mouse to get some out every now and again, just to drive me nuts). But they not just went in the whole kitchen. Also in the lovely, just perfectly cooked, roast chicken. I guess I could claim I have invented a new recipe. But can't claim it's edible... (although CheezyHubby and the girls still have not found an explanation of why the chicken had funny colours... told them it was a special breed, which only eat rainbows. or LSD.

Been to M&S today - to get slimming underwear. The Bridget Jones types. I know, too much information... Sorry...So got to the till, and here we go, quickly, hoping that noone wil notice. Until GrannyDoreen (it's her name, that's what it said on the label) puts them through and shouts: 'I've got those too, love, they are great - although they don't get rid of the problem in the first place.' Great, carry on love... Got home, fought trying to put it on, broke 2 nails (actually wondered how on earth anyone can breathe in that) to hear - are those cycling shorts? not really sexy. No they are not, and no they are not meant to be. So why buying them? I wonder. They go back to tomorrow. Hoping that GrannyDoreen won't be on the exchange till...

Also had a trip to A&E (the biannual one, thanks girls. I am sure there are other ways of meeting all the docs on call...). FilleAinee bumped her head and split it open (or it looked like it had done). Anyway - was not that bad in the end. Question in the waiting room: Can you see my brain? Do you think I will die? (do I faint at that point? no - I'll wait when the doc is there. Probably safer. We never know, it could be MrSexy who turns up?!!) Behave...

Anyway - until the next post, hopefully before another 3 months - I'd better go and get a speech written. And it can't involve Hundreds and Thousands, cows or Bridget Jones (nor her underwear). It's for Dad......

Catching up....

oh dear... quite a long time since the last post... but frankly, that's the issue with working and the end of year at school. Multiply all this by 2 when the girls go to different schools and when there is work at work and work at home...!
After being the most unpopular and uncool mum in the universe (at least), I managed to lose even more points when I announced that my forthcoming trip to the US was cancelled- bribery (Ok, I know, in a previous life, I had said that bribery would never know my address... well only stupid people don't change their minds..!) anyway- bribery for no tears and keeping bedroom tidy was to bring back any Hannah Montana stuff I could find. How cool. So how not cool that the trip is cancelled. Cruel, unreliable mother, what's the point of you going to work, we wonder...

Tried to regain some ground during the week end. Took Fille Ainee shopping - actually, emptying the bank account at the school uniform shop. Wasted nearly 1 hour, to then find out - supreme humiliation - that my cheque book was empty. Back home to swap cheque book, and write a phenomenally far too high cheque... And Fille Ainee was not even impressed. It's school stuff. Ok, I never said we'd go trendy!! And later on, found out that all this was a real waste of time, given that the whole shop is going online in September. Don't bother telling (working) parents. Rant over.

Later on, took Fille Ainee to a sleep over. Where she was with another 7 or 8 girls. My idea of a pure nightmare. Until, it turned into a nightmare. I got a phone call at midnight (you'll notice that I got the phone call, not Cheezy Sleepy Hubby). Fille Ainee was panicking as she could not sleep and got scared with the intensity of the fireworks. Well, after all, she was in Surrey's American Corner, on the evening of 4th July. And they like to do things in a grand way, the Americains. So here we go, they shook the hell out of her and she could not sleep (by the way -they being the fireworks, just in case you are not following...) So I jumped in the car, to find out that the road to get to the sleepover was closed, about 500 meters from the house, as works were being done on a railway cross over... Damn. No Tom Tom in the car, and obviously, did not have a clue about any other way. And for God's sake, it's was midnight. So got out of the car, forgetting that I was wearing shorts and the top of a nightie (thank God it was dark!!) and told the blokes on the road: "Look, I need to come and pick my daughter, she is 9, and ill, and on the other side of the cross over. Any chance I can get through?' (Now, read that again, as fast as you can, and try again in a panic voice - you get the picture. Or rather the sound. I'll spare you the picture). Blokey number 1 goes:"Course you can love, we are not closing the road until half twelve, so you have 25 min." As if it was obvious from all the signs, not. Blokey number 2 goes: "and don't worry, if you come back through later than half twelve, we'll go and talk to big boss and am sure it'll be fine." Ok, thanks Mate, and I'd rather avoid talking to all the blokey mates in the road right now. Half in short, half in nightie. Crossed over the railway, picturing a train crushing the car at high speed, as I guessed the works were to maintain the cross over- imagine the titles the next day "Mother committed suicide over cost of uniform" (Daily Mail) or "Broke Froggies desperate suicide" (Sun?).
Got to the house (sorry - mansion. It's a place that makes Windsor looks like a gardner's house...) to take Fille Ainee home. Crossed over the railway again, picturing new titles such as 'Mother and daughter in suicide pack' (News of the world) or "Mother's desperation at sleepless daughter' (mail again?). Anyway managed to take Fille Ainee home safely. Who by the way, fell asleep as soon as her head hit her pillow.... as for me, could not go back to sleep before the early hours... I guess that's just a preview of what's waiting for us in a few years time... nice hindsight.

As for Sunday, decided to start cutting more trees (as part of the marsh transforming project...) while Lovely Cheezy Hubby was cheering for tennis, and Tinker Bell decided to give directions on how to cut trees (from the other far end of the garden. Wise). A couple of trees down later, a few scratches, bites and several near misses (I now have mastered on jumping of ladders to avoid trees. A skill, believe me!). Ended the afternoon with cooking Sunday lunch (or whatever it should be called at this point) to be told that it might as well burn, given that tennis is so not quite nearly finished. I don't care who wins, but please, save my chicken. I can now claim a new recipe - Charcoal Chicken. By the way, talking of tennis - so is Andy Murray a Scot, a Brit, a what?? all this geography a mystery to the French. Radio 4 gave it a good answer... (see the following link, scroll down to 8.22: http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/today/newsid_8114000/8114111.stm)
And another one that made me laugh this morning: http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/today/newsid_8135000/8135515.stm
scroll down to 8.30 for that one. It's not at all about Murray, or tennis. But it's an interview of Tony Blair, and if you listen to the first word he says in response to the first question: "Look..."Sorry am on the radio, can't look. And listen to the last set of questions about whether he should have given budget to green energies development (or whatever) when he was prime minister. The answer is straight out of Bremner, Bird and Fortune. Brilliant. A masterpiece of spin.

And last but not least - the latest from Tinker Bell: could not sleep, did not want to sleep last night (probably not warm enough as she seemed to fall asleep dead easy when we went through the heatwave...). So was (obviously) doing rolly pollies on her bed. Until we heard a massive noise through the house. She had fallen from her bed. Rolly pollies going wrong at their best. Once the tears had finally stopped and the question of 'why on earth was she doing rolly pollies at 9.30 at night?' was asked, the obvious answer came through. Well, I can't do them on the tarmak, it hurts; I can't do them on the carpet, it hurts too; and I can't do them on the grass as it's nightime (why on earth that did not come up about the tarmak will remain unanswered); so I can only do them on the bed". So when I explained that it is obviously dangerous as she can hurt herself falling off from the bed, we open a new gate of tears / flash floodings, as 'it's not fair, I'll never be able to do rolly pollies ever again'. Harsh mother. But the question was really about the time, not about the rolly pollies anyway. That remains unanswered too, as clearly, Tinker Bell has a bit of Tony Blair in her and is the master of spin when it comes to it... anyway - she finally went to bed, with a bruised bottom...

Last but not least - today was our 13th anniversary. Or as TinkerBell put it - does that mean you have been married 13 times?? Blimey, I know a grand father who would stopped footing the bill!! Managed not to burn supper (and it was not all precooked), not to shout at the girls (they went to bed) and not to argue with CheezyHubby (amazingly enough, he decided to agree with everything I said. Daaaaaaaaaaaaarling, could it be like that every day:?!). Happy Anniversary!

ooooooooops! Sorry, have not written for a long time...
I guess that's the problem with being a working mum - we get slightly busy at times!
Anyway - marsh problems now solved. Garden sort of recovered from the DIY time.
New challenge for the next few weeks - looking like Gwyneth Paltrow. When she was 20. Or Jennifer Aniston, a few years ago. And if ever I was kind of getting close to looking like them before, well, that's about a century and a 100 days ago. Like never.
But - we went to Devon for the end of half term. Treated myself to a nice new swimsuit. Well - had to, did not I?!!! You just don't know when the next sunshine day will be there, so make the most of it and help the economy recovering (I know - Gordon, to thank me, send a cheque directly in my name. All those efforts I am doing to help the economy recovering its biggest hangover ever...)... Anyway - made the most of it and roasted nicely on a wonderful English sun on a Devonian beach. Until Fille Ainee simply said: "mummy, what are those lines there, on your tummy, you know the purple ones..."
- it's a map of the UK motorways. Thought it was helpful to have them close to hand. Just in case sat nav breaks down. You should always be prepared.
Funnily enough, she looked at me if a hangover had suddenly hit me, coupled with a bit of sun stroke. Oh dear, Mother has lost it again.
Next move - ditch the brand new tankini. Who cares about fashion. Those good old all in ones where much better. Actually, am now considering buying a wetsuit. Keeps the fat in, I hear. Makes you look like a fat sea elephant but hey, with a bit of luck, noone will recognise you.

Now watching series of Friends on E4 + 1 (thank God for whoever thought of the +1.. Why not +4 - for mums who try and catch up with everything they missed, in about .......... 10 milliseconds, between bottles and nappies or (later on) home work and reading; or shouting 'swtuch off that music surely you can't work with that; or get off that computer right now; anyway, you get the picture......)
Anyway - Friends. Blimey, can remember Cheezy Hubby and I watching it as we just got married. 'Surely, you can't be THAT old'. Thanks Fille Ainee. 'Mummy were the dinausors around when you were born'. Thanks Tinker Bell. No pudding for both for the next..... actually - bad move. Cause that means me eating the puddings instead of the girls. I actually bet that Jennifer Aniston and Gwyneth were banned from pudding from.... even before birth. Wondering what they did to achieve that...


Promised to share good receipes when I find them - here we go:
- Lady grey fruit cake. Dead easy - and a winner with everyone. Shame about the 'above not to self'. Will think about looking like Gwyneth next week. I mean - the name is already there, given that Gwyneth would be the english translation of my name. So it's a start...
I did a mix of
http://www.waitrose.com/recipe/Summer_Berry_Loaf.aspx
and http://www.waitrose.com/recipe/Lady_Grey_Tea_Loaf_with_Vine_Fruits.aspx
ie - put any kinds of fruits (glace cherries, raisins and peels) in 300ml of lady grey and sort of follow the first receipe...
and for main course - easy and simple: Cod with tomato and basil. http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/5939/tomato-and-thyme-cod
except did not put any sugar - no need really. That must be my 'Gwyneth side'.
Enjoy!

disasters in the garden, in the kitchen... you name it, trust me!!!

So what do mums do on a rainy Sunday afternoon??? They try to behave... well - should do. But that's when I realise that I got it all wrong...! I decided to do some baking with the children. To release some of the stress from the previous days, such as:
- going to a meeting in London (if you ever read this, guys, you will recognise yourselves) where I ended up with the nickname Mrs WhipLash (thought that's what you get when you have a car accident, until KindColleagueFromWork explained to me in the lift that no, it's not what you get when you have a car crash. Shock. Horror). Anyway, I'd rather not think about that one anymore.
Note to self - remind people you are French and can't know all the subtilities of the WondferfulLanguageOfShakespeare. Although I doubt he ever knew what a whiplash is. Whether carriage crash or not.
- baking cakes at 11.00 at night on a Thursday evening (after the above mentioned stressful meeting and ThisIsNotSoFunnyCheezyHubby said that clearly, what on earth do you do/ tell people that you end up with that kind of remarks). Baked 3 cakes. One is not enough obviously. One for work, one for Fille Ainee, TinkerBell and WonderfulNannyFromHeaven and one for SuperBrilliantFrenchFriend.... none for CheezyHubby (as he pointed out), Clearly, should have been kinder to me after stressful meeting.
Note to self - don't bother baking so late... you forget about cooking time, and you have to set up the alarm clock so that you wake up in the middle of the night (felt like it) to switch oven off.... CheezyHubby even less impressed and less amused (come on darling, where is your sense of humour??? in crumbs...)
Other note to self: find out how to bake cakes that don't go as flat as a souffle as soon as out of the oven, whatever time of the day or night....
Final note to self: bake 4 cakes.......
- Gardening - or ChelseaFloserShow4debutant.com: in my books, going to garden centre (why has it got to be as expensive as if you had a daily trip to the jeweller??? diamonds are eternal. Flowers are not. Not in my garden. Where is Titchmarsh when you want him??! Just like Nigella... Soooooooo unreliable). Anyway - reshaped, redesigned and, in the most artful way ever, left unfinished. The garden. Or what was called a garden until Saturday morning...

The rain on Sunday was quite welcome, really. Until the ArtfulUnfinishedGarden (sounds better than marsh, does not it?!) turned into marsh. Never mind, am sure weeds will take over... So decided to play Uno with the girls. Who obviously won. Except I did not need to pretend to lose. I am simplky rubbish at the game. Or is it that they simply change the rules each time it's their turn to play???!!
So by the end of the afternoon, CheezyHubby thought it was about time he tries and call on God's help. So went to late service. Fair enough, might as well try and save what he can and ask for sainthood for coping with this all! Between the time he went and came back: decided that it was about time I baked (again.... see the pattern for disasters...) crumbles from Nigella (I should have learnt by now). So go for rhubarb crumble. Worked. Until I realised that I put too much better. So added more flour (as you do). Put the whole thing in little pots rather than a big dish. Put the small pots on baking sheet, opened the over door. and Patatras (sorry - French. No equivalent in English. No way). half the small pots on the floor (thank God it was clean). Cooked the remaining small pots... Decided that apples should be cooked, so made another crumble with them. Pre cook apples. so far so good. Start making the crumble. So far so good, right quantity of butter (that's an improvement) and bingo - forgot the baking powder. Never mind, won't bother. Dish in the oven. Clear everything. Hoover, and mop (pushing a bit, I know). And bingo (againg). Foudn teh missing baking powder, on top of microwave (how did it end up there??). Tidy it up to the top of cupboard until........... another patatras (get the gist of the word?) whole new pot, on the floor... wet from mopping. looooooooooooovely. Clearing again... children off to bed, teeth, story and ....... Hubby back. "what was for supper?" "what do you mean..........." Sentence stopped by realisation that crumbles are now a new recipe. Charcoal crumble. Quite an achievement in such little time. Thank you Cheezy Hubby for this very helpful comment..... so much for a rainy day.
Note to self: Next week end, we do painting. Promised.

Mamma mia... trully!

Blimey - took me 2 days to recover from Mamma Mia evening; Sorry, but won't be posting any pictures... Both Fille Ainee and Tinker Bell were absolutely appaled that Cheezy Hubby (more like MagnumIamBackFromTheDepthOfFirstDaysOfColourTelly) and I could even think of getting outside the house before it was dark. "what, you mean, you are going to walk to the car, and it's not even dark??? someone could see you like THAT!!!" (car was parked in front of the house so that's assuming the whole nwighborhood is peering between their curtains to spay on us) and "you are already dressed up and the babysitter has not arrived yet. She is going to see you wearing THAT??". Oh dear... did not think it was THAT bad!! At least when we got there, every body looked as ..... 1970s as each other!
To beat for the evening - the one who asked her lady who sew for her to adjust her all-in-one nylon outfit to make sure it fits; father wearing boots about has high and long as my legs (not hard some would say), the winner of best outfit competition (shiny pink all in one - yuk). Oh, and I was going to forget... the one who buys 3 tombola tickets and 2 of them are winning tickets (and no, I did not win the second prize - 5 days looking after your dog. Which is great if you don't have a dog...!).
So, to recover from all this, the 4 of us went on family bike ride on Sunday morning. What on earth made me agree to that?! oh well... was all worth it. Although the neighbours grinned at us, pointing at Cheesy Hubby, as if to say "where is the 'tache gone??". And at me as if to ask where had the dress gone (well - as I had said before - more like a cropped t-shirt)... So - ride around Surrey (or felt like it) was then followed by British's favourite Sunday sport (no - not what you might think) - gardening... then the other favourite sport (still not what you think): cooking roast potatoes (did I tell you how to do them - cut about peel the potatoes, cut about 'that' size, boil for about 5 min, shake in colander - as got to be steel colander, then put on hot cookingt tray...... aaaaaaaaaargh!!! after 15 years in the UK, I am still not british enough to know how to cook roas potatoes according to.........) anyway - so Sunday lunch (which started at 5.00!!), cleaning, ironing, working, tidying up.,... well the usual for all mums I guess! So that glass of Pimms I was looking forward at 7.00 clearly was no so attractive at 11.00....! despite Fille Ainee trying to drink it (oh dear - under age drinking...). She thought it was fruit juice... And that's why it was all worth it (Ok - forget the Pimms part of it, and Fille Ainee demonstrating a sign for liking alcohol...). Cause it was like the Working Mum without the 'Working' bit. Although thinking about it, Mum is a full time job anyway, so I guess it was without the extra extra time...
Whatever....
By the way - in case you wondered. Boiler was fixed on Friday. But my love-story-turned-to-hatred with British Gas is now turning to FrontPageOfDailyMirrorDivorce. After working for 3 days (hurrah!!!!), Boiler has now decided to diversify itself (I guess everybody tries to diversify in these times of crisis...). So it's now pouring water out. OK - slight exaggeration. But still. The b***** thing decided to leak. On the hoover which is stored below... So Mr DontWorryIllFixIt is coming back tomorrow (well - I hope...). About time Boiler reads the FT. Which announced on its online version today that the UK, France and Italy were seeing the end of recession. Which is cool. Especially as BestMateFromManchesterDidITellYouIamEngaged said when she read the title: "thought France was never in recession??". Well that's true French spin for you. Boasting about the positive, even in worst times. Sarko's master was Blair. Spin, spin, spin. Maybe something for GordonBrownIWillNotAdmitIamWrong to learn from - not accepting that he has reached the bottom of the worst of the darkest bleakest times, and that the end is in sight. I guess that's the election. Anyway - what do I know... ?!!

Enough rambling for tonight... now bracing myself for tomorrow morning's cold shower. At least it's good for blood circulation. Not too often, pleeeeeeeeease!!

boiler, boiler, tell me, when will you start working???

Looks like my previous 'notes to self' are working. At least in terms of writing on here more often....
I thought yesterday that the neighbours might start wondering about British Gas being once again summoned in... well - Mr DontWorryIllFixIt turned up 10 min before being late... so spent a whole morning in winter socks, wolly jumper and scarf. So frozen that I could not careless about colour coordination. Even got the hotwater bottle out. Until I realise it was warmer outside than inside. Never mind... Anyway, Mr BritishGas turns up, looks at the boiler, and after listening to my ranting about why this thing decides not to work anymore once a year, when it's still new (well - 6 1/2 year old. Apparently, ancient in BoilerYears. Glad TinkerBell did not hear that. She is 6); he looked into it - decided a spare part would be required. But sorry, tomorrow is my day off, will have to be Friday, unless I can find one of my mates available. Well, why don't you do that... to cut a long story short, none of Mr DontWorryIllFixIt's mate could do it next day, so it will have to be Friday. Done deal. Never mind, we will freeze. At least Arctic Times are gone and we are on for Global Warming (first time ever I think that might be positive). Good bye and see you Friday. I alrady felt that I earnt an Honorary Degree in BoilerThatRefuseToWork, after Mr ICan'tFixIt explained to me about the insulation chamber and the heating chambers, the collapsing of the side which are fitted with hooks, which unfortunately have just been discovered not to take heat very well (shame for a boiler) and therefore at risk of collapsing in the chamber, diverting the heat flow, creating a massive issue. And bottom line, the boiler can't work (no really??? I did not know that. The socks, jumpers and scard afer only a new fashion I am hoping will take off soon).
So good bye Mr ICan'tFixItNorCanMyMate. Until 2 hours later - Mr DontWorryIllFixIt is back!! now, that starts looking suspicious. He needed boiler number... and announced the bad news - spare part unlikely to be available. But, he says with the biggest Colgate Smile ever seen - you might get a new boiler. Great. When. Well, I don't know - I'll have to ring and check and I'll ring you back. Yes, why don't you do that. Except that it's now the evening, we are all wearing something that resembles a modern cosmonaut outfit - mixture of bright pink socks, yellow winter jumper and purple scarf... I now, new fashion. Still not taking off. But nearly scared the people cold calling to know whether we were going to vote for who at the next council / Euro election. Answer: to whoever can solve my boiler problem. Not sure whether the poor lady who rang at the door did not dial social services... time will tell. In any case, no more cold calling from the Conservatives for the next 10 years! (if they have any friends at any other parties, they'll tell them to avoid our kingdom too..)
Reaction from Fille Ainee, back from school - do we have heating? why are you dressed up? Mamma Mia evening is not today?! Oh dear. Forgot about that one. Probably no heating for the baby sitter. Never mind, will feed him with alcohol to keep him warm. He can't say no to that, can he?
Luckily - back to the office tomorrow, away from this mayhem...

Anyway - promised to share recipes with you. Here is a deadly easy starter:
- puff pastry ready rolled
- 1 pear or apple (we still can't decide which we prefer!!)
- log of goat cheese
- 1 egg yolk
- herbes de provence
Roll the pastry and cut 2 rounds per person. Cut the pear/ apple, you'll need 1 sliced per person (ie - cut then to make big circles). Leave the fruit slices on kitchen paper to soak up the juice. Then, take 1 pastry circle, put 1 fruit slice, and 1 slice of goat cheese on eat. Sprinkle the herbs on it. Cover with the secon round of pastry and seal by putting a bit of water on the side of the pastry: both slices of pastry will stick to each other with a bit of a pinch. Brush some egg yolk on it. In the oven at about 200degrees for 10 min. Serve warm on a bed of salad. A winner. And the kids can do it.
Bon appetit!!!

Did Tinker Bell ever learn to cycle??

I won't come back too much on the night out last week... But blimey, Friday was a long day, with an unexplained (and not traceable) bruise on the forehead (promise, I did not fall over), and a nearly dislocated shoulder (well - bruised, and could not move higher than the elbow. Unexplained either). In fact, as I went to bed quite late (thanks for a broken down train which delayed the journey back, remind me to complain to British Rail and the Minister For Working Mums Who Go On Jollies Once a Year), so, as I went to bed late, nothing was hurting (and I did not drink THAT much given I knew I'd need to be up and running early). And here we go. Friday morning, I woke up feeling like I was a crippled XX year old subjected to Skating on Ice for the last 2 weeks. Anyway - I guess that's what 10 years of not practicing going out does to your body...
Just as well we had the bank holiday to recover. Went like a lightening. Got Tinker Bell to cycle, starting the bike on her own. "mummy, Tinker Bell does not need to cycle, she has wings, you know!" "she still needed to learn to cycle in case her wings broke" (phew) (thank God the argument stopped there and there was no mentions that actually we don't see her cycling in Peter Pan. But I guess you never know, and I am sure she would have been prepared.
Next to plan: still need to find a Abba outfit for the NotSoPleasedToHaveToDressUpHusband for Saturday's party. Who said we did not go out. Actually, I am secretely quite looking forward to seeing him with a 70s wig and flowery shirt..... Pictures might get posted (as long as I take the photos!!!)
MrsDoubtfire (the girls' nanny) has been brilliant again. Cheering the girls up, despite the fact that the boiler has broken down (again... British Gas are going to start thinking I have an affair with their engineer....). Told them stories about Bridesmaid. Which is quite topical, given TinkerBell will be a bridesmaid in September. I just hope the story of the big, purple, stripy dress has not scared her too much...
More soon! By the way, in the end Swine flu is not in the house. Phew.

the day after the night out. Ouch

....

swine flu, and evenings out... can I still do that??!

Well - here we go, swine flu is all over the news. After avian flu, we are on swine. Great.
Mind you, would not be surprised if I caught it (no, am NOT a hypochondriac. I now a few people who do better than me on that).
But - let's face it. Cheezy Hubby does not descend from monkeys. Clearly not. He proved it again yesterday. He descends from Pigs. Please please please, never let MotherInLaw read this - she already thinks I underfeed him (another proof he is a pig, he eats anything, so no wonder he looks underfed on fine Nigella Lawson Express Dinners - well he thinks they are). Anyway - last night, he cleared the kitchen so that I could do some work (well - that's the point of a working mum - work, tidy and clean all in one at home). So - as he was exhausted from being Mr Muscle in the kitchen (although not much cleaning was involved as I found out), he went to snore early (another proof he does not descend from monkeys. Ever heard that monkeys snore?? but what about pigs??) I finally finished work (ok -involving a bit of online shopping too), got to the kitchen, to discover that clearing up meant: eating all that left - all my batch cooking. Brilliant. Theory proved.

Tomorrow night - he is in charge. Let's hope the house does not turn into a pigstye. I am out. Hitting town. With quite a few of us from work, so will need to behave (fat chance). Unlike last time - which was not with work, but for work. I know - even worse and even more reasons to behave. So was going to a pre-dinner drinks / talk about crisis PR. Really interesting - met loads of great people, most of whom I have not got a clue who they were. But had one of those great 'Bridget Jones' moment. Trust me to create my own crisis... Was introduced to Mr DontYouKnowWhoIamIworkForABigOrganisation. Well - so what do you do? He goes: I am marketing communication and business development manager for the development of audiences and opportunities among the native himalayan in north East Yorkshire who have moved back home. I went- Sooooooooooooo, that's sound great! (Big silence - and there is nothing you can explain about it to me??!) so I go - and what really does that mean? (what i was really thinking was, what the F*** does this t*** does and where the hell do I go from here). Never got an answer. Pretended then to go and get another glass... Here we go Bridget!

Another evening coming our way is Mamma Mia evening -did I blog about this already?? can't remember. Anyway - got the outfit in the post. 2 solutions: lose 2 stones in 10 days (yeah, in my dreams), send back the dress (no time) or wear it and hope everyone is drunk before the evening start. Clearly they can't have all been that skinny in the 70s. I know it was flower power, but still... Even Fille Ainee and Tinker Bell looked at me in completely bewildered - you are not going to wear THAT, are you?? not in front of other school parents?? Response - what about I wear jeans with it? well..... so the conversation stopped there. Clearly Marge Simpson was more attracive to them at that point. They actually did not think it was a dress. More like a cropped t-shirt. But hey, what would they know about the 70s. (and what do I know about it??!)

Promised to share some recipes by the way - go for carrot cake. It's is simply yummy. And Fat Free (well - it never hurts to say it and who cares, noone will check).
Trust me, I tried it, you cant' fail it: http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/3229/yummy-scrummy-carrot-cake

Suddenly feel a bit cold and sore throat's coming my way. It can't be the flu, can it?
Oink.

good morning sometimes confuses her...

note to self:
1- write on blog more often. But when?!!
2- ditch Nigella Lawson. Just watched her Nigella Express latest. F*** me. Her pantry is the size of our lounge. Actually size of the whole house... no wonder why she manages to decide that, oops, she can't sleep and what she really really wants right now is pudding. So you see her, at 11.00 at night, in her silky gown, going downstairs to cook - and not just toast and margarine. No Pudding with real full fat butter. Next day - on the phone: 'yes no problem darling, why don't you come for lunch' and then tells you calmly, after putting the phone down that she was on phone to a couple of friends and invited them for lunch. So she will cook a full blown roast in 10 min. Yes, you are right. Ditch her. That kind of person trully can't be a friend.
Watching now Hell's kitchen. At least Ade is not taking himself seriously. Thanks God, given what they cook looks not that great. Mind you - still better than what I would do at 11.00 at night, if I suddenly felt that I was hungry and wanted a lemon drizzle cake (see post number 2 for recipe)
3- Next time there is an evening at school, don't try and think it would be a good idea to go and dress up. All the other mums are dead skinny, spending their time at the gym (how much time is that?!). So I now need to lose 2 stones in 2 weeks (definitely ditch Nigella and the full fat butter), so that I can fit in that skinny 70s dress that I just received. Verdict from the children and Not-So-Lovely-Cheezy-Hubby: can't you wear some kind of jeans or leggins with it? is that a dress? thought it was a t-shirt. Cropped t-shirt even??
4- Next time there is an evening at school - don't try and think it would be fun to dress Lovely-Cheezy-Hubby in a flowery shirt (he has not seen it yet), a pair of shorts and flip flops. Please, please, make sure it does not rain on that evening. I stopped short of getting a 118-118 wig...
5- sentence of the week: Ade Edmondson about Linda Evans: Frankly, sometimes, 'good morning' confuses her. I could apply to........... so many people. Loved it though.

Anyway - enough confusion for today. Good morning.

Pamela (anderson), Julian (Clerry), the Pope, a ring, a few pizzas and easter eggs...

Wahoo, what an Easter weekend!!

All started on Thursday evening - went to the hairdresser. Don't you just like it when you are going to pay £xxx (ie - far too much) and the hairdresser actually tells you what colour you should have, and which one (s) you should not. So my suggestion that I would like some red (ish) highlights was met with a no - blond is THE colour.



So Lovely-Hairdresser-From-Hell (but specialised in colour) turns me into Pamela Anderson (shame - without the adds on, said Lovely Cheezy Hubby), while she's getting me drunk.



"Given the price you paid, they could have added caviar and a few adds-on (stupid ref to Pamela...)"



Thanks Darling, why don't you just go and pack your suitcase. That will be slightly more helpful. (hint)



Mind you - Lovely Hairdresser from Hell is not as bad as one of my friend's who decided that on the day she had an appointment, 'no, I won't cut your hair today, it's not right'. (voice over - Julian Clary- location: push Surrey town). So she left the hairdresser, without a haircut but a new bottle of shampoo costing her £100. A big one she said (at that price, I buy a few big bottles...)



Anyway - next day, off to Rome, mid afternoon.



So turned up at Gatwick early (you never know, the plane could decide to take off early, before deciding to be highjacked, and then deciding to run out of fuel, and then to explode above the mountains, and then deciding to re-materialise before landing safely - thank God). You get a picture of the state of mind



Had lunch at the SeaFood bar (no room at any other inn - what a good excuse!! to spend a few more £££, I know). Brilliant waiter - a bit like 'the Godfather': same accent, a good 40 years younger. Anyway - was Sicilian. That explains about the Godfather. Sat down next to Sharon Stone (Ok - look a like, but blimey, she looked good for her age). She was off to Palma.



Then off on the plane (decided not to do any of the above: ie, was on time, did not get highjacked or anything, which was a bonus). What a laugh when we got on the plane - Julian Clary was the pilot, his brother the copilot and his cousin the stewart. I swear, nothing to do with the few glasses from the Seafood bar, nor the G&Ts on the plane (after all the trip was to celebrate Cheezy-Lovely-Hubby's new decade. And no, he is not 30, whatever he thinks).



A split second before we are ordered to switch off phones otherwise the radars of the plane will go wrong and we will end up in Vladivostok or crash on the Himalaya, the phone rings. Super-Friend-From-Manchester-But-Who-Lives-Down-South (now she knows who she is!!!) on the phone: Other-Half -to-be finally proposed!!!! brilliant, made my week end. I expect in a few years time she will be writing a 'working mum blog, inlcudijng outlaws and inlaws, Lovely-Cop-Hubby and so on', which I'll enjoy reading while I would have moved on to 'a-guide-on-how-to-live-with-teenagers'.



Won't bore you with all the details about Rome, but in a nutshell: Brilliant time - Vatican City (did not see the Pope, apparently he was busy praying for all of us, bless him, as long as he prays for the right things). Plus his special audiences are on Wednesdays (says the tourist guide. With another 5,000 people. Cool).



Anyway - saw the best ever paintings, statues and everything. Probably enough money there to solve the current crisis. But what do I know.



Anyway (2) - all I'd say is that by the end of the week end, I looked like a pizza-stuffed-Pamela-Anderson (blond as ever, so now working on the Essex accent, and if you imagine a pile of pizzas the size of Big Ben - well - that's what I ate the whole week end...)



Anyway (3) went to the best restaurant ever, with Marcello Mastroiani as the waiter. Showed us proudly the pictures from his 2 kids - Omar (after Omar Sharif) and Rachida (did not say from who). Told us we were his best friends, and he was from Egypt. I told him I was Sophia Loren and Cheezy-Lovely-Hubby was Pierce Brosnan. Isn't he???

So - now back home. Pierce Brosnan watching TV, and me, well, trying to shorten the ever increasing list of things to do before the girls come back on Saturday... from photos (for the last 2 years) to put in album (where the hell are they??) to organise summer holiday... so that will be another blog!!!

As for recipes... I know one I don't want to share: Strawberry Meringue Roulade. Not helped by the fact that I replaced the strawberries with orange curd (why not?) and started baking at 10.00pm. not a good idea. And Nigella was busy (cow). So went onto plan C - Waitrose.

Over to the next time!

the working mum - half on holiday

Guess which half of me is on holiday for the next 2 weeks? the mum or the worker??? well here we go. SuperGrandParentsFromFrance are looking after the girls for the next 2 weeks. So that we can relax and have a week end in Rome. So the Mum-side of me is on holiday. Well - should be.

So the 2 weeks from Heaven started on Saturday morning, when at the Eurostar terminal, the French Police said to Fille Ainee- be nice to your mum (she always is - and so is Tinker Bell too!). By the way, isn't it nice to travel with your older sister?! (yes - you are right - that was me. daaaaaaaaaaaaaarling). Although after checking - I realised that I had actually 2 massive humongous suitcases under baggy eyes living on last night's lack of make up remover...

And a few hours later, as I set up to travel back from Lille after dropping the girls, the guy checking the tickets at the Eurostar terminal goes - Here we go Miss, have a lovely journeyAnd then he saw my rings as I am handing the passports over - sorry Madam, he goes, did not realise, but you look so young! (daaaaaaaaaaaaaarling #2). So decided it was all a copmliment, nothing to do with the fact that I probably looked like a Goth zombie. I love the French, they know how to lie (or are they blind?!).

Then, spent the weekend gardening - just like a true Brit! So after a week end like this, I probably quialify for fast track British citizenship. Fixing the net over the vegetable patch (which only produces uneadible vegetables, which we have to pretend are great), spraying the lawn (so that it looks a bit more like an English lawn, rather than its French counterpart - but it clearly does not respond to a French Not So Green Hand...), varnishing kitchen work surfaces (great -it b*** stinks in the whole house...) so basically, by end of the week end, Cheezy Lovely Hubby (that's his new name - cheezy by nature, guess about the rest) and I feel that we live in a chemicals plant - lovely Home Sweet Home as been transformed in Fumes From Chernobyl. But at least, we did our bit to help Air Products sales, as hopefully the chemicals used are the ones we sell (except the ones we sell are not meant to make you feel sick. So obviously I have been subsidising our competitors. Damned).

Anyway - I decided this blog is not just going to be about me. If you are going to have the patience to read this blurb, you might as well get something back - that's my little present to you- I'll share with you some of my recipes - and promise, they won't include snails (yuk) or frogs (double yuk) - and I'll translate some French ones. Lucky you!!

And you'll soon understand why the French were glad I did not cross the Channel back - not worthy of living there!! don't drink wine, don't like coffee, hate snails and frogs - clearly that was enough to convince them to give me a one way ticket!!). Actually - I like champagne (daaaaaaaaaaaarling #3).

So - a brilliant recipe I'll share with you today - the Lemon Drizzle Cake. Dead Easy. The perfect one for that time when it gets to 11.00pm, and you suddenly remember that tomorrow is cake sale at school, that a colleague at work said - i have been a good girl today, can I have cakes tomorrow (now, she will know who she is!!!), and you promised to bake for a friend. So you need a quick fast brilliant "can't get it wrong" recipe. 3 solutions:
1- Hire Nigella Lawson - good luck at that time of the night.
2- Prove yourself You can be Domestic Goddess (http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/womanshour/food/recipe19.shtml
3- go to your nearest 24hour a day Tesco / Sainsbury....

and before you switch off - I'll share with you my favourite Blog. Sorry, it's in French and I can't garantee what you'll read on the day - but that girl is simply brilliant. She was even interviewed recently by British papers (and the quality ones). Try it- maybe while the cake is cooking... http://www.penelope-jolicoeur.com/

Have a lovely day / evening! I'll be back soon. Clearly, being on half holiday, I have no excuses for not blogging!

My blog is now live

here we go - I have finally moved in the 21st century. That's a huge and fast jump from where I was - being the last one to have a mobile phone in all my friends (and when I proudly showed it, they asked me if I got it in an antic shop, or at Camden market... they called it the Brick. Mind you, it was a brick, by weight and by size...).
And I bet anyone who starts a blog start with - my blog is now live. How b*** original. But never mind, I have not got the time to think any further. If I don't take the plunge now, I'll never do it.
Just like the book I said I'd write one day. It's all there - in my head, somewhere between the super strategy for external comms that we will put in place when this doom and gloom has evaporated (everyone says it will - but when?!) and the list of recipes I need to write down before I forget them. And also the list of 'stuff' i need to include in another book, which will aim at explaining why you - the roast beefs- are so weird (did I ever say that before?!) and why us - the frogs - well, are so, euh.... annoying?
Anyway - i guess you know have a summary of myself now - French, although not quite given that a marriage (to Lovely Hubby) and 2 daughters (Fille Ainee and Tinker Bell - don't ask) sort of make me a bit Brit too (or is that English). So I guess, if my real nationality was to be looked at, it would be kind of 'Channel'. Does not read great - but here we go, that's probably where I am; sitting in between 2 countries (admitedly, sitting on the Channel is probably not very comfortable, busy with crossing ferries, and a bit wet, but here we go).
Anyway - what I intend to write in this blog?? well -about a working mum, with 2 daugthers (see names above), a Lovely Hubby (ok - that sounds a bit wet, but that's all I could find), a job (where we try and have a laugh). i'll also exchange recipes (promise, at some point the lemon cake will be there), and hopefully have a laugh on the net!!
So whoever you are, wherever you are - welcome to the 'FunToBeAWorkingMum' blog!
more soon.
Right, now, got to go and do some work (for a change - but at least the brain has had a bit of a rest, from reading Cosmo and the Magic Sneeze - again don't ask - so closing on our social media strategy should be OK); at some point will also have to change the sheets of a sick Fille Ainee (yuk) and wait for Lovely Hubby to be back from his Thursdays Delivery (given he sells cheeses, i know it is for late deliveries, not a code name for a fancy 6ft tall, 8 stone (cross that for 7) blondie).
I'll stop the blurb now... more soon!!