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Enough is enough
Bonfire night used to be special. As a child I used to get excited about November 5th, even though I came from a Catholic family and my Mother disapproved of the burning the guy bit. When I became a parent the excitement started all over again. Okay, it was vicarious, but as a parent thats the way it often is. At a dank time of the year there would be parties, outside, with crackling fire, sausages, baked potatoes and , most special of all, fireworks. Pretty little Roman candles, spinning, colour hurling Catherine wheels, rockets speeding into the night sky and then lighting up the sky with multi-coloured showers of sparkles. All around there would be a chorus of 'Oooh, Ahhh'. Everyone would have hunted out their gloves or mittens and would be tracing patterns in the air with sparklers, little faces lit up with a phosphorescent glow, a magical night. This year I have become and old grouch. For two weeks now the night has been filled with a cacophony of loud explosions, nothing to cause childlike wonderment, as you jump out of your skin. Sometimes it could be a single bang, othertimes it might be several, particularly the 2 o clock in the morning episode that went on for ten minutes. I expect those latest addtions to our shopping areas, The Firework Shops, are joyfully counting their takings, and still looking forward to the run up to this weekend. Me? If I never hear another super, pounding, massive detonating, high velocity, cloud buster again I will be ecstatic. The magic has gone, and boredom has set in.
Coincidence???
There are sometimes odd coincidences, and then there are those things that are really freaky. I was just chatting to Jack's Mummy on the phone and she was telling me that last night she had a dream about her sister. In the dream her sister had a caesarian, the baby was a boy, and she called him Joshua James. What's freaky about that? Well, last night I was called out to a home birth. We had a lovely birth, a little boy, called...........Joshua James. Not just Joshua, not just James, but both names. There is no way that daughter could have heard about this. Hubby thinks that it must be a name in the news. Is it? I havn't heard it. This has got to be the weirdest coincidence ever.
Jack came round to visit Nanny today, and Nanny got told off. What is wrong with Jack lying on Nanny's bed whilst Nanny jumps up and down on it? We were having fun. He was learning numbers, I bounced - one, two and then jumped whilst shouting three. Jack thought this was hysterically funny. However, daughter and Hubby were downstairs and did not approve of my behaviour. Hubby was worried about the bed and the plasterwork, daughter was concerned that I might jump or fall on Jack. Do they really think I'm that stupid? Jack is still not crawling forward, he can go backwards and he is nowhere near pulling himself up. He can wave though, and if you ask him where your nose is he grabs it, and then proceeds to teeth on it, luckily he is toothless.
Eldest daughter is expanding rapidly. Even at this early stage she has all the unpleasant symptoms of a more advanced pregnancy, including a pronounced bump. It's really odd, they might be sisters but their pregnancies could not be more different. Also, eldest daughter is a worrier. Breast-feeding, childcare, fire-guards, and, as yet, she is not even allowing childbirth to enter her thought process.
My dining-room is progressing, albeit slowly. The wall-paper is off the walls and ceiling, at this rate it might be finished for Easter.
I had my yearly Supervisory interview last week and have been pronounced fit to practice for another year, but only on the general public, not my relatives! My CV was productive in that I have an interview. 'Its okay' says my manager, ' just a half-hour chat with the Head of Midwifery ( yes, my best friend ), my manager, a supervisor of midwives and someone from personnel. No presentation.' Does she not know me well enough by now to know that I will be a gibbering wreck when faced with this semi-circle of people I am supposed to impress.
Oh yes, daughter, Jack's Mum, came out with a cracker the other day. When she was working as a Nanny in Dublin she took the children to see Father Christmas in his grotto. Apparently one of the elves chatted her up. Her Dad and I made all the right noises, but then she says, in all seriousness ' He wasn't really an elf, he was an ordinary boy.' Help, this is the Mother of my Grandson.
Tomorrow is BIL's birthday. He will have achieved the ripe old age of 5+5x3+10 and so I would like to take some time to pay tribute to him. If I had a brother he would be my ideal for the role. I know we would get on because he has chosen to be married to my sister for a quarter of his life. He is a wonderful step-father to my nephew and nieces, he appreciates all the clutter in my house, particularly my shell collection, and due to his inability to go away in the summer I had a brilliant time in Minorca with his wife. It is due to him that I started my blog, this may be percieved as a mixed blessing by some, and if it wasn't for his patience and generosity with his time Hubby would still be operating his steam modem and wouldn't be networked to my turbo-powered broadband connection. So, anyone who reads this ramble, please take a moment to link to his blog and wish this Strange Englishman a Happy 'Welcome to Middle Age' Birthday.
November, a description in D
Dismal, dank, dark, dreary, demotivating, depressing, disagreeable, distressing, dull, dim, damp, debilitating, dire, dreadful, dangerous, dejected, dripping, drizzle, downpours, decomposing, diabolical, death.
It's amazing the sort of thing you do to pass the time when driving around.
Tonight I'm on-call for the local birth centre. This means that if anyone comes in and they are in labour, I'll be called. Half an hour ago they phoned and told me that a woman expecting her first baby had phoned and was on her way in to them. Now I'm waiting. Is she in labour? Is the phone going to ring any minute, or will they wait until I've just got into bed, or is it a false alarm? Outside the rain is lashing against the windows, it's cold, and they are forecasting snow at worst, icy roads at best. I keep hearing ambulances in the distance, busy night for them. I love my job, but at the moment I am really hoping that I get to stay at home tonight. The problem is that now my system is geared to 'get up and go'. I can't settle. There are tasks I could be getting on with, but is it worth it? Will I get to finish them? It's no good, I'm going to phone them.
Right. They've sent her home. It's very early labour and the good news is - it's sleeting. My money is on being called at 3am, so there's time for a small bacardi and coke and then bed. Hot water bottle is on the side waiting. Tip. If it's icy, when you get up fill a hot water bottle, put it on the dashboard (drivers side) then you have a coffee and get dressed. When you go out, the windscreen your side is clear, and doesn't re-freeze, and you have a nice warm hotty to put on your knee whilst you drive along.
Anticipation.
How exciting. This morning Royal Mail tried to deliver something to me that was recorded delivery, and couldn't 'cos yours truly was asleep, so they left a card. It's a package, says the card. Not a letter, not a parcel, a package. Must be important if it's recorded delivery. What package comes by recorded delivery? A summons would be a letter, a pressie would be a parcel, a package, well that could be oodles of money. Perhaps that E-mail I got telling me I had won a lottery was true, I might be rich beyond my wildest dreams.
Hubby has just raised the question, 'When does a package become a parcel, and when does a letter become a package?' Out has come the dictionary - Package = Parcel, Parcel = Package. Confusion is reigning. Must be something to do with the size. Right, I have a package/small parcel waiting for me at my local sorting office. I can't pick it up yet because old postie won't be back until 2 o clock. Then what? Do I open it there? Should I bring it home and have an opening ceremony? I'll bring it home. That way, when hundreds, if not thousands of pounds in cash, flutters out, I will only have to fight off Hubby. Mmm, perhaps I'll wait 'til Hubby goes out and then open it, that way it will be mine, all mine.
DISAPPOINTMENT
It's air purifier filters. I forgot I had ordered them. I did ask the bloke at the sorting office about package v parcel. It's all to do with the postage. If it's sent letter post it's a package, and he showed me a huge parcel which was classified a package. Very helpful chap, eager to initiate me into the ways of the postal service.