This is a picture of my pancake. That’s not a euphemism, it’s my actual pancake. The one I was craving and salivating for tonight after lovingly making pancakes for everyone else in the house. The pancake that got burnt because I was distracted for a few minutes trying to find Lego pieces under the kitchen table because 6yo boy just yanked open a Lego packet despite me telling him not to and which I hadn’t got time to play with because I was busy making (burning) pancakes. The pancake that was #notyummy. The pancake that is in the compost bin. The pancake that I’ve put two fingers up to and ordered a Thai take away instead.
A cheeky Thursday throwback to the pottying years and the flagrant misuse of Cadbury’s chocolate buttons…
“It’s been 3 months and the weeing on the floor hasn’t stopped. Neither has the occasional poo-poo on the carpet (why is it always on the carpet that they poo?? There’s a perfectly nice, wipe-cleanable wooden floor just over there!) We started off all eager and organised. Wall charts and coloured stickers for wee-wees, butterfly stickers for a poo-poo. But then they didn’t seem that bothered by the stickers and it cost me more energy trying to get them interested in the stickers than they were worth: they weren’t stopping them weeing themselves anyway. So we gave up on the stickers and just carried on with the positive encouragement. Well, most of the time. When your child jubilantly announces at the top of her voice “Wee wee!!” as she spreads her legs and sprays her wares everywhere and then gaily shouts out “Never mind!” when she’s done you start questioning whether you should at least show some sign of annoyance. The other day“…
The next time I suggest going to Whipsnade Zoo in sub-zero temperatures can someone hold up the ‘INSANE’ card please? Along with about 3 other people, we battled through horizontal sleet trying to catch a glimpse of a cheetah, tiger, elephant before taking a warm but very smelly respite in the hippo enclosure and then giving up on the outdoors, we tried to see every other animal from the confines of our very warm car.
I was surprised to see that River Cottage now have a restaurant there, selling very tasty but poncy fare way flashier than is required by your average zoo punter (a group of three blokes came in, looked at the menu, laughed and left). For my part, I made good use of my newly decided thick winter coat keeping it zipped up so I looked like Kenny from South Park. I then devoured a delicious beetroot based River Cottage lunch only to find hours and several conversations with strangers later that a large proportion of my face was still stained bright purple. Thanks goes to husberk for neither noticing nor alerting me.
As for the kids, they turned their noses up at the high class kids bread, houmous and veg sticks, deeming the rainbow carrots and other unusual root vegetables “not yummy”.#hoveringclosetoinsanity #makementalhealthgreatagain
Husbod’s at it again: prototyping a possible shelf location using a cardboard box so that we can ‘get a feel of where it will be’. This will stay there for about a month after which I will get to say the same thing as I’d say today: “It’s fine, let’s put the shelf up”.
One of those rare nights when all the shit misses the fan and you actually have a pleasant family evening together. And even use that fire pit that we bought about a decade ago and which has been rusting in the corner of the garden ever since.
Words cannot express how annoying the experience of eating my Kit Kat was. In years past (16 years to be precise – how time’s flown) the delight of breaking the foil and snapping the kitkat stick off was a thing of simple satisfaction and joy.
Fast forward to 2017, where some clever clogs have made it near impossible to tear the friggin packet open despite its supposedly clever ‘flow wrap’ plastic package techno-wizardry. It doesn’t work. And I have been left to eat this thing of would-be joy (which is ps illegal anyway because of the nestlé vibes) crumb by crumb near enough and I use my hammer-claw to attack it. Totally dissatisfied.
#hoveringclosetoamashedupkitkat #cantopenthefucker #BRINGBACKTHEFOIL #hammerclawvskitkat #hoveringclosetoinsanity #makementalhealthgreatagain
If you’re hovering close to insanity, the thought of ‘being normal’ can feel like a pleasantly calm, if somewhat unattainable, aim in life. We see so many ‘inspirational’ quotes/pictures/articles these days telling us to be the best we can be by changing this, doing that, travelling there, but what if it’s too hard to do that? What if you’re struggling enough just keeping the day to day shit together to find the time to become that world famous artist/novelist/actor/tv star/chef/lawyer/world traveller/scientist/mathematician/tattoo artist (I’m walking through Camden Market)/parter of waves etcetc. To me, phrases like ‘being normal is boring’ can feel just as damaging as any other statement that passes judgement on a group of people.
Years ago people thought the opposite, and feared that which wasn’t ‘normal’, anyone unusual. I’m glad we now live in a society where being ‘different’ isn’t generally feared (although recent news stories may challenge that to a degree). But I don’t think it’s helpful to go the other way and deride those that aren’t ‘different’ (cool, exotic, well travelled) either.
Don’t get me wrong, I know what this card is saying. It’s ok not to be like everyone else. It’s ok not to conform. And there’s definitely a market for that message, and I’m probably in it(!). But it’s the subtle implication that it’s not ok to be like everyone else, it’s not ok to be ‘ordinary’ that I find unhelpful. That we should be more than normal. Be different. Be exceptional. Well I’ve spent my life feeling like I needed to be doing something more exciting, unusual, alternative, bohemian and do you know what I found? It’s exhausting. And depressing. And demoralising. I’ve realised that I’m much better off if I concentrate on being – to quote Bugsy Malone – happy just being me. So let’s take the pressure off. And just concentrate on being nice to each other. To live and let live. Would that really be so boring?