Taking it up

Recently, I treated myself to a new dress. I hurried home and tried it on. I loved it, but it was just a few inches too long. So out came the needle and thread and I hemmed it up.

My daughter and I got chatting whilst I was sewing. She goes to a repair cafe, where people swap expertise to mend things, rather than throwing them away.

She commented that one day, somebody had come in because a button had come off of their shirt and they didn't know how to stitch it back on.

It got me to thinking about just how few people now can do these simple things that were once thought of as easy, everyday tasks.

Maybe parents seldom teach their children these simple skills anymore – sewing, mending, darning, fixing things around the house.

It is so easy nowadays just to pop to the shops, buy new and discard the old.

But should we let these skills die? I don't think that we should. Not only does it save us money, but it helps our planet, as we are re-using resources rather than simply throwing things away.

If your child loses a button, or breaks a toy, show them how to mend it, pass on your knowledge, so that they, in turn, can pass their skills on to their own children.

A Mum thing

I moved out of my parents' home over 35 years ago and my brothers had moved out several years before that.

As a child, I had my own bedroom, and even had a plaque on the door proclaiming that it was my room. My brothers shared another.

Even to this day, my parents still call the room my bedroom. If asked where something is, My Mum will say 'Its in the boys room' or 'Its in Seren's room.'

The plaque still hangs there to this day, proudly in place.

My daughter moved out over a year ago. And I've found myself doing exactly the same.

There's still a plaque on the door with her name on, it is still referred to as her room, even though she now owns a house of her own.

It isn't the spare room, or the back bedroom – it is still HER room.

It must be a way in which Mums cope with things when their precious babies fly the nest, a way of keeping them close to them in some way.

Maybe if it is still called their room, then in some way they have not really gone. Sentimental things, us Mums, aren't we.

The curse of the many lights!

I am all for saving energy, both to help our wonderful planet and also because I don't like paying more for my bills than I have to.

But why, oh why do I have to put up with so many lights?

As I am typing this, sitting comfortably downstairs on the sofa, the home hub upstairs is blinking and winking with a myriad of coloured lights. I can't see them from here, I know that the internet is working, because I am using it. The only purpose of these lights seems to be to rob me of sleep if I go to bed before the rest of the family.

Then there is the TV, with its solitary red eye, taunting me: If you want to watch me, just press this button, just here, the one with the light on, and I will spring to life and entertain you! Do the manufacturers think that I will forget where the 'on' button is if it hasn't got a light on it to remind me?

The thermostat has a little winking light on it, reassuring me that it is alive and working. The boiler in return has its own blue light to confirm that it is still on talking terms with the thermostat! But I am warm, so the heating is indeed working, I don't need two lights to tell me that.

If I come downstairs in the night, the front room is lit up like Christmas! The game consoles, laptops, tablets all have their little blinking lights to say that they are still alive and well, even if they are on standby mode.

The last person to bed could unplug and shut down everything, but in the real world, it doesn't happen and some things cannot be turned off to quench their lights, such as fridges, freezers and heating systems.

So come on manufacturers, either stop with the unnecessary lights, or give us an option to turn them off when they are not needed – for the sake of the planet, our bank balance, and our sanity!

A letter to my unborn son

The day that I found out that I was carrying you inside me was one of the happiest days of my life.

Weeks passed and something didn't feel quite right, but I hoped that you were well, growing stronger within me every day.

But then one day, there was so much blood! A trip to the hospital. A scan. No heartbeat. Drugs, pain and tears, and then you were gone.

All that was left was emptiness.

I never got to hold you, see your face, kiss your brow.

I never got to see you walk, go to school, grow up.

You would be 23 now – a man.

I often wonder what you would have looked like. Would you have my curly hair and blue eyes?

What interests would you have had, what job would you have taken?

Would you have a wife, children of your own by now?

Only one thing is certain my son. One day we will be together again.

Until then, I will love you always.

Targeted advertising woes

Picture the scene: you've just spent hours perusing various interweb sites to find the perfect present for that someone special.

You're certain that they are going to love what you have got them. It's not something that they had asked for, but it's right up their street.

You pay and wait eagerly for the parcel to be delivered, so that you can hide it in a cunning place where they will never find it.

So, fast forward a week, and said gift is squirreled away safely and all is well........................or so it seems!

I am happily checking what my friends on Facebook are up to and I get up to  make a drink, leaving my laptop on the sofa.

I come back and the 'someone special' is sitting on the sofa with a big grin on their face, looking at my computer screen.

And there, for all to see, in the targeted ads is the present that I had bought for them - lovely! Talk about ruining the surprise.

Birthday and Christmas season will soon be upon me and once more I will be looking for that special gift.

But this year I've beaten the ads. I've found a way of turning off the targeted ads. It was very simple in the end. When I was on Facebook, I noticed a little arrow and a link to the Ad Choices site, where I could stop targeted ads from showing up.

So this year, I can shop online for my loved ones, safe in the knowledge that my laptop won't spoil the surprise - unless they work out my hiding place that is.

Time

When I was little, the school summer holidays used to stretch out before me, long and exciting.


They seemed to last forever. Each day was filled with fun. Playing outside with my friends, going on bike rides, playing on the swings.

Family holidays also seemed to last a long time, with endless days spent playing on the beach and in the surf.

But as I've got older, things seem to have changed. Days, weeks, months, years seem to rush by.

Its' the start of July, and to me, it doesn't seem many weeks ago that it was last Christmas!

Family holidays pass in a blur. It seems that no sooner have we arrived, that it's time to go home again.

So, does time really speed up? Or are we just so caught up in everything that we need to do each day that it seems that way..

Time is time, a minute has always lasted a minute. No more, no less. Maybe it is our perception of it that changes as we age.

Cloud watching

I flop down on the cool, lush grass. I turn my face to the sky, drinking in the warmth of the summer sky.

My mind wanders, my body relaxes. The fluffy, fine weather clouds scud across the endless blue.

Shapes form and change within the clouds. There's a bunny! It fades and changes.


Now it's a fire breathing dragon, flying high in the blue. Faces, animals, they come and go.

I could lie here all day, making up stories in my head with the forms that I see.

My imagination runs amok, a smile plays on my lips as a dolphin jumps and plays in the azure sea.

But I must leave, I have things to do in the real world. I must share my thoughts with like minded people...............like you dear reader.

How are we not bald?

This morning, I was hoovering through the house, and the brushes on the head weren't rotating and the suction was poor. 

So I turned the machine upside down to see what the problem was.

And, as usual, it was because the brushes were clogged with hair!

So I had to take off the head and cut away all of the hair and then all was well again.

It makes me wonder how we are not all bald.

Every few days I empty out the hoover bin and its full of hair.

If I pull out furniture, there are clumps of hair in drifts against the wall.

And then there are the drains in the bathroom! They regularly clog up with hair and need to be cleaned out - not my favourite job, I must admit.

But we all have full heads of hair. It's just amazing how much hair is shed and how it mounts up.

Oh well, onwards and upwards. I can see more hair lurking over there, under the table.

What's in your handbag?

What is it about handbags that seem to attract junk?

I've just had a sort through of mine as it was getting rather full.

Where did it all come from? There's half a dozen gift cards, all of which only have a few pence on them, bus tickets from years ago, a receipt from a hair cut months back.

And oh, I don't even want to think about what that sticky lump covered in fluff used to be!

There's some buttons, which obviously came off of my clothing at some point and which I meant to sew back, but I can't even remember which clothing they are from!

There were no less than six opened packets of mints, many of which are now soft and are destined for the bin.

And those painkillers! How old are they? Who knows, I can't read the use by date because it was rubbed off long ago.

I now have a tidy, clean uncluttered handbag, well for at least a few days, anyway.

Hokey Cokey shower

We live in an old house which shares the mains water supply with our neighbour. The water comes down from the top of the hill, reaching our neighbour first and then us.


Most of the time, this is no problem, but if we are using the electric shower and they run water in their house, it reduces the water pressure in ours and makes the water run too hot.

So if we have a shower and next door is using their water, we now have the saying 'It was a Hokey Cokey shower' As in, you put your right arm in (water is too hot) You pull your right hand out.

Hokey Cokey showers always seem to start just as you have either lathered up your hair or soaped up your face.

You then have to do the Hokey Cokey with your eyes shut which is never easy.

Have you ever had a Hokey Cokey shower?

Have you ever?

Have you ever been walking along, in a world of your own, only to realize that you are walking in totally the wrong direction?

Yes, I think we've all done it, but what do you do when you notice?

Do you just turn around and walk the other way? Or do you look to see if anyone is looking first, so that you don't look silly?
 
Some people look at their watch, and then turn around, pretending that they are supposed to be elsewhere.

Others do the decoy ploy, stop to 're-tie' their shoelace, then do a quick turn around so that nobody will notice.

Others check the contents of their bag, as if they have forgotten something before 'going home' to get it.

Yet others make the grand gesture - stop stock still, getting in everyone's way in the process, slap their head with their palm mutter loudly about how stupid they are and then turn around.

But, at the end of the day, does anyone notice if we've gone the wrong way, does anyone care? No, they don't. So why do we do it?

 

How heavy is the Tardis?

We all know that the Tardis is bigger on the inside than on the outside, but what makes up it's weight? It's outside appearance or what is inside.


On the outside, it is just a wooden box with room inside for a phone.

But on the inside it is fully decked out with a swimming pool, a library and numerous other rooms, which each individual Doctor changes to suit his needs.

If the weight of the Tardis was the combination of it's internal features, then it would weigh a great deal indeed.

When seen 'landing' on various surfaces in the TV program, it does not sink, which would point to it not being overly heavy.

So my conclusion is that it's weight is the sum of it's outer appearance, rather than the sum of it's interior contents.

Unless of course, it has an anti-gravity field, which would solve the sinking/weight problem.

When computers fail

A while ago, I went to make a routine appointment and the receptionist replied 'I'm afraid the computer is down at the moment, so I can't make you an appointment. You'll have to come back later'

In a moment of frustration, I asked her 'What's wrong with a pen and paper?'

It struck me how much we actually rely on technology. If a computer system fails, then it seems as though the whole company just grinds to a halt.

It seems that gone are the days where appointments were written in books, or people talked to each other and sent letters.

My children text each other when they are in the same house!!! What's wrong with walking upstairs to ask if the other wants a cup of tea!

So as wonderful as technology is, it does cause huge problems when it fails.

People seem to have forgotten how to do things without a computer, internet or smartphone.

I'm old enough to remember a time when there were no computers. How ever did we cope.

Now where is that paper and pen to jot down my thoughts?

 

Swimming with the fish

Ah, this was the life. I had both the sofa and the house to myself.

I stretched out, sipping the last of my glass of wine. Just a few minutes more and I would get ready for bed.

I lay, watching the fish swimming in the tank, smiling at their antics. My eyes grew heavy and I began to doze into sleep.

As I watched, one of the fish swam out through the glass of the tank and lazily swam towards me. I blinked.

That can't be right - fish can't swim through glass, and they certainly can't swim without water!

One by one, the other fish swam out and drifted around the room.

Hang on, I thought, I'm dreaming! Maybe I can swim with the fish.

So off of the sofa I swam, joining the fish.

Oh I felt so free. I wonder if I can swim upstairs.

Yes! Up I swam, my finny friends joining me as I went. I thoroughly enjoyed my swim around the house.

With a jolt, my eyes opened. I was back on the sofa. I rubbed my bleary eyes and stared at the tank.

All of the fish were present and accounted for in their tank.

I yawned, stretched and headed for bed.

 

Doorways are memory sucking portals!

Really? I hear you say. 'But they're just doorways'

But let me give you an example:

This morning I was in the kitchen, and I needed to ask my daughter a question. I walked through the doorway to the sitting room and...................................

I couldn't remember what it was that I wanted to ask.

So yes, it's true. I'm sure that everybody reading this has suffered the same fate at some point.

Not all doorway portals are as strong as the kitchen/sitting room one.

Take the toilet to bathroom one. We seldom forget to wash our hands as we pass through the portal.

Some will lull you into a false sense of security for weeks or months, and then bam! They hit you quite unexpectedly.

So I urge you all to take care when passing through these portals. Especially the one on the front or back of your house.

It has a habit of making you forget your house keys, thus preventing you from returning through the portal - sneaky!

 

Where do the odd socks go?

I've just done the laundry. The washing basket is empty, but still I have an odd sock!

Where do the partners to odd socks go? I've scoured the house from top to bottom and I still can't find them.

Sometimes I can have an odd sock in the basket for months. Nobody seems to know where it's partner is.

They look in all of the usual places, such as down the back of the linen bin, under the bed, inside the duvet cover (yes, they do sometimes hide there) but no, it is nowhere to be seen.

And then suddenly, out of the blue, it reappears, but nobody seems to know where from.

Is there a hidden world somewhere that they visit for a while, like some sort of sock holiday resort? Do they get abducted by aliens? Can they make themselves invisible?

I don't think that this conundrum will ever be solved. But in the meantime, my poor lonely sock will wait patiently in the linen basket until it's mate re-appears.

The curse of the dripping tap!

Oh the annoyance! There I was, having a nice quiet bath when..............drip............drip.............drip!

It won't turn off, unless you turn it off really hard, and then the next person can't turn it back on again.

So off I trudged to the D.I.Y shop to get a new washer. But, oh no, you can't get a washer for that sort of tap, it takes a cartridge, whatever that is. And, they don't have one for that particular tap.

So, what to do. There's nothing for it, I have to buy a new tap. But I can't just buy one, I have to buy a set.

So what would have been a simple job costing pence is now costing a whole lot more - and I don't know how to change a tap.

So on the phone I went to a plumber friend..........................help!

So he is now changing the taps for me as I type. Tonight I will be able to have a bath without the curse of the dripping tap, because it is no more, it has been consigned to tap heaven.