education

whilst we were at wonderful Larmer tree, Miss Doucy from school phoned to say Clara could have a place on the Hilltop farm trip next year, which she is terribly excited about. "She''l be so pleased when I tell her", I enthused. "Right now, she's just having a tattoo applied!". Then, weakly, remembering that I had taken the children out of school for 2 days for this festival, I tried adding "It's an educational tattoo...". Fail.

logistics part 2

also forgot to pack myself any knickers! had to go commando!

McCulture

Imagine the scene. The sun is setting, the picnic blanket is beneath a tree, Jools Holland is tinkling the ivories, and all of a sudden there was a flurry of wings, and 4 free-ranging peacocks start calling to each other.
"shut it, happy meal" says Clara.
(maybe I should have called it a McFlurry of wings)

who put me in charge of logistics?

Logistics. Me. Not natural partners. I needed to wash the cooker and sink unit from the beaten up old trailer tent I thought was "romantic", took on last year, and have stored at Anna's ever since. This is because it was to have it's first outing, to lovely Dorset and the Larmer Tree festival. Having unpacked the trailer on Anna's drive, to see what needed fixing up and to give it an airing, I decided to take the kitchen unit (size - 1 ft high, 1 ft deep but about 4 1/2 ft long) - home to clean in my own kitchen. So i removed the unit, packed up the trailer tent (which realistically takes 2 to manouevre) and went home. So, when it came to pack for camping, I had to fit in the car: me, 3 children in car seats, the sleeping bags, clothes and camp stuff...and, quite literally, the kitchen sink! Didn't leave a lot of space for air!

phew!

Phew! thought Clara was wailing about her coccyx again. Turns out she was singing a Celine Dion track...

fleas in my ear

Oh my! I am currently being tested to the limits of my patience by Clara, who may or may not be injured and in pain, after a fall on her coccyx last week. One minute she is fine, skipping about, fighting with her brothers etc. The next minute she is emitting this whingeing cry, and I have no idea how much is genuine, and how much she is milking it, although I am convinced that both are happening. Pathetic whingeing brings out my least admirable side, parenting-wise, as I really struggle not to look irritated. We have been to a&e at the insistence of the school, because whilst she was remarkably active all weekend, she found herself in unbearable pain on Monday morning, and was sobbing in the medical bay, and I got the home phone call and The Lecture, and she had to be collected. 2 weeks previously, I had The Lecture after I sent her in to school with a bruise on her hand, and she went scuttling to medical ("There are a great many bones in the hand which can be broken, Mrs Edey!"), so with a flea in my ear, I took her up to a&e as requested, to get a 2nd flea after waiting for a couple of hours for an overstretched doctor to tell me she had a bruised hand! This time she told the triage nurse that this was her second trip to a&e in 2 weeks, and I suddenly felt like I was being viewed rather coldly. It seems rather pointed, the way they ask Clara to explain what happened, twice, so they can check for consistency presumably, whilst I sit squirming under the scrutiny. The doctor said on this occasion she has another bruise. If I blurt out "the school made me come!" will I look uncaring? If I point blank refuse the next time the school tell me she needs to go to hospital, will I look neglectful? Now that's 4 fleas in 2 weeks (and we wont even mention the miniature versions the mangy cats are merrily infesting the house with... I'll save that for another blog, another day!)

Booted out of Facebook!

Well, the mouse has been "removed" from Facebook for having a fake name, which is apparently contrary to the spirit of the beast. The Meg part was presumably OK, I suppose Aphonemouse was something of an unusual surname, which was probably what got me busted! Where, then, should I record the odd happening that ought to be preserved, for example, the story of the picture of Johnny Morris, Desmond Morris, and the Orangutan? Maybe this blogspot is the answer. Now back to the picture. I have been admiring a canvas which is on display in the very odd antique, bric a brac and french polishing shop at the top of my road. It is an oil painting, of well known TV presenter Johnny Morris (to the left), a man who I now know to be Desmond Morris (on the right), and monopolising the centre and majority of the canvas, a large and ruddy orangutan. I instantly coveted it, and every time I have gone past the shop, have wanted to go in and ask how much it was, although I recognise I don't exactly have a need for a canvas of Johnny Morris. I do have space on my downstairs toilet wall however. Today, I plucked up courage and went to enquire, only to be told it wasn't for sale at the moment! The shop owner hasn't decided what to do with it yet, as he had it on display, and the artist himself saw it and came into the shop. Apparently, the picture had been stolen from an exhibition he had on display many years ago. He photographed the picture, and signed the back for the shopkeeper. He explained that the picture was intended to be comic, as at the time Johnny Morris was seen as having a lighthearted view of animals, whilst Desmond Morris ( who hosted Zoo Watch at the time?) was much more serious. As the painting was displayed, a small card, like a post card, actually covered the middle bottom of the picture, and the shop keeper moved it to show that it had been deliberately placed, and was obscuring one detail of the picture - the Orangutan's penis, which Johnny and Desmond were at best indicating - at worst, they could be interpreted as touching or manipulating it. Which made the piece a little bit more difficult to sell, I imagine, and perhaps not what I wanted on display in the toilet after all. I was very disappointed. After all, the chances of me finding a picture of Johnny and Desmond Morris not behaving inappropriately with an ape is probably fairly unlikely, and I had already decided exactly where I wanted this piece to go. Maybe, if the shopkeeper does not come to an arrangement with the artist, I could buy the picture and the piece of card...