A public service announcement

Posted on February 13, 2018 by thepogblog

You know that warning written in really small letters on the side of sugar free polos?

Yes, that one /\

It says ‘For some people especially children excessive consumption may produce laxative effects’.  Well, not only should it include a comma or two, but it should also specify what ‘excessive’ is.  Because when you are used to eating a bag of mint imperials a day but your dentist went white when you told her and said you had to kiss goodbye to all your teeth over the next few years or switch to sugar free, half a pack is not in any way excessive.   And true, it might not be having quite the effect warned about, but I am one step away and have been trumping like a trooper all afternoon.

Norman has forgiven me, but I am not sure I’ll get away with such noises in the office tomorrow.  So I’m not sure if this is a public service announcement to save you embarrassment should you be tempted to consume half a pack in a day or if it’s to warn people in my vicinity tomorrow that…well, ear plugs might be required :o)

(And to Himself:  I’m sorry!)

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Weekend observations

Posted on February 12, 2018 by thepogblog

When you finally have a weekend day that’s not soggy or freezing and you’ve wanted to get in the garden since you’ve moved in, much can be accomplished in little time…to start with.

Removal of two trees?: 30 minutes each

Removal of tree stumps: 2 hours and one very large hole in it was decided that a stump can be quite a feature…

Removal of pampas grass (because we are not 1970’s swingers): 20 minutes

Removal of roots: 1 hour in  I woke up two hibernating toads and decided for their sake I’d leave the roots for another day.

But doing this:

Meant we got a sunny spot (which before was mostly dark) for a cup of tea and piece of freshly cooked cake:

There is still more to do, including stripping the garden of some…interesting ornaments.  Despite borrowing a huge estate car to take everything to the tip there was only room for one this time:

There are no words.  Especially as his brother, a peeing boy and three rabbits who have perfected the death stare are still making the most of out lighter, brighter, bigger garden.  Sometimes you just have to grit your teeth….and hope by next weekend you’re able to move without squeaking again so you can evict them too.  (I didn’t know I could ache this much…)  :o)

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The losing of the plot

Posted on February 7, 2018 by thepogblog

I don’t know if it’s too much work, too much running, too much house-wife-ing (because not only am I now cooking proper food that doesn’t include toast, but last week I took the hem up on a pair of curtains.  Just call me a domestic Pogess), but I seem to have finally, completely and utterly lost the plot.

Last night Norman cat and I were doing a bit of tidying up waiting for Himself to get back.  I was chatting away to him while he sat behind me watching from a cardboard box I’d put to one side for recycling while I stuffed things in drawers when I heard:

‘Hello.  It’s me.’

I froze, squeaked and turned round to see Himself had walked in the house without making a sound.  Of course it was him who had spoken.  But for a few seconds there I really, truly, honestly thought Norman had learned to talk.

I think I need a lie down.  In the sun.  For about a fortnight….

And in other news, it snowed (a teeny tiny bit) in Beachbumpkinsville!  (I’m assured this is only marginally more likely than cats learning to talk…) :o)

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Sometimes…

Posted on February 6, 2018 by thepogblog

Sometimes, even when it’s cold and wet you have to trust that going to the beach will still be fun, because you’re with Sister 1 and Little Pea:

Sister 1 fell down a hole as I took this picture…

…even if you did have a tummy ache and Mummy and Auntie Pog made you walk a lot anyway (although you could still eat sweets, so it probably wasn’t that bad):

And sometimes, even though it’s freezing cold and really, REALLY muddy, it’s worth meeting lovely friends in between Beachville and Bumpkinsville to go for a walk:

Especially when at some point everyone cries with laughter;

One person almost loses their boots in the mud;

Everyone loses their sense of direction (we had to get the Google map lady to talk us back when we realised how lost we were);

And at least three of the party almost lose their dignity through laughing far more than ladies who have had children should (apparently).

Giant gate or tiny friend?

Always though – not sometimes –  there is nothing better than a lot of belly laughing :o)

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Mostly about breaking stuff

Posted on February 1, 2018 by thepogblog

Himself has been away for work this week.  Presumably I am now quite rubbish being left on my own now and have taken to breaking things.  This was last nights text messaging between us:

The snow reference is because it’s been snowing in New York so Norman decided to make snow at home, by removing tissues from their box and shredding them.

Today I have broken the back door.  Well, it wasn’t completely me and it isn’t entirely broken, but, well, let’s just say it’s a good thing He is coming home tomorrow.  Hooray!

I might just sit in my happy, calm place until he walks in the front door in case I accidentally demolish the house or something…. :o)

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Random bits…

Posted on January 31, 2018 by thepogblog

…because this week is turning out to be a bit random in many ways.  But there are smiles:

My sisters are in competition over who can make my postman laugh the most:

And:

Inside the latter I got a lovely mixture of goodies, including actual hugs:

I’ve popped them in a vase right in front of where I work :)

And at the other end of the house I have these smiles:

I love that spring is coming (well, if it can make it’s way through the torrential rain, it is.  As I said to Sister 1 earlier, surely it has to run out at some point?!)

And if it doesn’t, well that’s ok, because the postman delivered my broomstick today (I don’t think he quite knows how to take me.  Especially when I waved at him the other day and he came rushing back, just for me to have to explain that I was just waving hi), so I have a zippy mode of transport sorted if I need to get away :o)

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Side effects of working from home

Posted on January 25, 2018 by thepogblog

I’m starting to worry about me.  I’m really lucky – I get to work from home four days a week so I get to wear slippers at my desk, have Norman help with my work and eat all the food in the house (which isn’t really a good thing), but I think it’s starting to affect my sanity.

You see, Our Towers is close to a nature reserve where a lot of people walk their dogs, and I seem to have become obsessed with the numbers that walk past the house each day.  Not just in a smiling at the cute brown puppy that bounces rather than walks, or marveling at the old couple who have seven dogs between them kind of way.  I mean I do this:

I suspect my tally of dogs versus walkers is not normal.

Then today, two people knocked on the door: two real live people.  They were Jehovah’s Witnesses – it was quite the human interaction I hoped for.  I watched them walk next door, wondering if chatty neighbour would enjoy their visit more than me, but they walked past.  And they passed the next house, and the next, and the next. I thought about this for a while.  Norman was asleep so he was no help in providing a view on why they came here, but apparently nowhere else. In the end, I messaged Himself.

‘Do I look particularly ungodly?’ I asked.  He required further details and once I’d explained my consternation he pointed out that the other houses might have ‘those signs on their doors’.  Oh god, this was worse than I thought.

‘You mean like those marks that burglars leave saying “this house is worth robbing”? Do you think rather than “not really worth breaking in, no dog, just a growling cat” we have “particularly ungodly; in need of saving”?’ I typed, slightly frantically.

‘No.  I meant they probably have “no cold caller stickers”.’ he replied  Oh yes.  That’s a bit more likely.  I think I may have over thought this a little….

Anyway, we reached 47 dogs and 40 walkers today; this is a record.  I’ll keep you updated; I’m sure you’re terribly interested :o)

(I’m sorry)

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Step mum Pog take 1

Posted on January 22, 2018 by thepogblog

With Our Towers a new experience has arrived:  being a step mum. (Kind of.  Are you a step mum if you aren’t married to your Himself?  I’ve given up trying to work it out).  Anyway, this was the first full weekend we’ve had Small Boy and Bigger Boy to stay with us, in our own home.

I thought Mums must exaggerate when they say the washing machine is on all the time.  People without children:  they are not. There was rugby kit (twice), school uniform, running kit, normal clothes, and that was just theirs.  But I washed…

….and I cooked.  I failed a bit with the disguising of mushroom and pepper using my new ‘chops so finely they will never know’ chopper in the meatball tomato sauce.  I got away with it with Bigger Boy.  Small Boy clearly really doesn’t like pepper though and informed me that it was ‘horrible.  Not like the one you made before’.  Cue a battle of wills that lasted so long I’m still not sure which of us won.

….and I did teaching.  I thought Small Boy might not be impressed if I cooked anything else for him, so I supervised him making sausage rolls for us all for lunch.  I also provided ‘fun maths’ (that might be a bit hopeful), by getting him to help weigh out the ingredients for crumble and then do the crumbling.

…and I sewed.  And this was where I may have come into my own, even though it was accidental.  Small boy had found a Pogimal I kept a few months ago and said he would like one, so while they were at the football I got out some socks and my sewing machine and made these two: 01A864C5-BD4F-4883-B6F3-FC57CE52B4FD

Not perfect, but it’s been a while. (Incidentally, Small Boy informed me that he thought I’d like the football as much as him.  Why?  ‘Because you can enjoy the peace and quiet while we are all out and lie on the sofa watching Spongebob Squarepants all afternoon!’)

The resulting Pogimals were a success with both boys, but even better was on Sunday morning when Himself told me the conversation he’d had with Small Boy.  Small Boy often has nightmares and had one involving a naughty giant teddy on his first night here.  The second night the teddy came back, but it was ok,  because Super Stripey – the bird on the left above –  had scared him off and it hadn’t turned into a nightmare :o)

I’m sure with sufficient alcohol I can get a grip on this step mum – or whatever I’m supposed to call it – thing.  Because people without children, the Mum’s aren’t exaggerating about that either.  By 5pm it’s definitely wine o’clock.  Even for those step mums who don’t really drink, it seems :o)

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Maybe I should have stayed on the sofa…

Posted on January 21, 2018 by thepogblog

This is what a run looks like when you have got really lost:

To be fair, I mostly got lost because two of the roads I needed to go down looked like this:

And I tried getting through the brambles but they went up to my neck and I ended up with thorns in my ankles and my hands.

And to add insult to injury, the dry day turned to drizzle within two minutes of leaving the house, which turned to rain, then to sleet.   And when I was putting my phone back in it’s holder after calling Himself to let him know I’d be back a lot later than planned as I had no idea where I was, somehow my bra undid itself.  And anyone who wears a sports bra will understand that is not a good thing to happen, but especially when you are soaked through, freezing cold and in a public place.

Still, when the paths aren’t flooded and it’s above 3 degrees, I think that could be quite a nice run.  No sea, but lots of green. My beachbumpkinsville :o)

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Mama Pat

Posted on January 20, 2018 by thepogblog

Once upon a time, a long time ago, I got to do something amazing because of one lady and her family, but mostly because  her Mum said ‘yes’.

It was actually 2014, so not that long ago, although I think it will always feel like yesterday and forever ago at the same time.  In case you don’t know the story, four years ago I decided I wanted to do something to help people in Tacloban, the Philippines, after typhoon Yolanda. Ideally I wanted to stay with local people so I didn’t get a sanitised hotel experience and also so that I paid a person for my board and lodging rather than a company.

The lady who made it possible was a colleague from work whose family live in Tacloban. Her Mum was Mama Pat; the matriarch of a huge family who welcomed me into their home, their lives, their laughter and their stories. In Mama Pat’s position I would never have agreed to have some stranger staying – an English giant no less (a very rare species in Tacloban) – but Mama Pat was amazing.

Not only did I stay, but the first night Mama Pat and I had a strongly worded ‘discussion’ (mostly involving hands as neither of us understood the other) because despite being in her late 70s, she was adamant that she would sleep on a foldaway camp bed and I would have her double bed. I’m pleased to say I won that one :o)

So Mama Pat and I shared a bedroom while I was there.  I was relieved to hear that she stopped being concerned about my visit when she realised that I would eat anything she put in front of me. (I’ll be completely honest though, Mama Pat: that day it was just us having lunch and I heaped the green stuff on my plate before asking what it was…that day I nearly failed in my quest to try everything. Finishing that plate of – in your words – ‘cow intestines’ took almost all the determination I possessed!)

Mama Pat and her family were so welcoming and lovely that they invited me back the next year for Mama Pat’s birthday.  And I went. And this time I was allowed to sleep on the camp bed with no arguments. :o)

Today is Mama Pat’s funeral. I know one of her main concerns will be whether everyone attending has enough to eat.  I’m sure her children and their partners and her grandchildren and friends will do her proud.  She  taught them her ways, after all. To all of you: I understand no words will help with the loss you feel right now. Please know though, that her love was felt right back here in the UK and I will never forget her.  I don’t think there are many people who have that much of an impact in their lives.

Goodnight, Mama Pat. Xxx

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