Is it me?

I have just put the following post on Facebook:-

“Tonight I poured a bucket of freezing water over my daughter’s head. I did it at her request and I did it under protest.

I have been nominated to take the same challenge myself. I will not be doing it.
When I do something stupid, I do it because I choose to.
When I give to charity, I do so privately, by direct debit, every month, not when it’s fashionable.
I should not feel that I have to justify my refusal but I do feel that way.

I do not accept the challenge.”


Is it me?

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Second set of stripes

Wednesday lunchtime and all our guests have gone. The beds are changed. The washing machine is chugging away, disgruntled by yet another flurry of activity. We had leftover pizza for lunch, without catering for a house full of people. Quiet, innit?

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Missing a challenge- nearly

Hello world, hope your weather is cheerier than ours. Rain, clouds, winds, more rain. It’s August; doesn’t that mean it should still be Summer?

So we have family staying with us at present. My cousin, his wife, their grown up daughter and 3 year old granddaughter, to be exact. We always get on really well so it’s fun and we spend a lot of time laughing. However, we don’t live in a particularly touristy area so the list of fun places to go is limited.  And it’s raining, so we want inside places to go. In a brief afternoon of sunshine, we took the little one to play in the park and they all spent a day visiting other family on Saturday. On Sunday, another cousin and his wife came for Sunday dinner and the eight of us spent the time between family stories and scrambling in the play tent with the little one.  What my dad used to call “good, clean fun”.  Continue reading “Missing a challenge- nearly”


Huzzah! It’s Monday, that’s a new Diva Challenge.  Unfortunately, my morning starts several hours before it does in Saskathingy, which is where she lives, so I wait with bated breath for the sun to come up over the Rockies or whatever minor outcrops they have over there on the other side of the pond. I mean, why can’t they all be on Greenwich Meantime like we are in the civilised world?

Anyway, on it goes and I like it – water is the theme and I can think of all sorts of possibilities already. AND, no-one else has posted one yet so I could even be the first to post. Oh wow, does life get any better?  You can see me heading for a fall already, can’t you?

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Painting the Forth Bridge

For those of you out there who don’t get the reference to the Forth Bridge, it’s a hundred or so year old railway bridge over the Firth of Forth just north of Edinburgh in Scotland. It’s a magnificent structure but was famous throughout my childhood for the fact that it was constantly being painted in order to preserve its integrity.

Got to love it.
Got to love it.

According to urban myth, no sooner had the poor painters finished at one end than they toddled back across and started again at the other. And so it is with tidying my craftroom. (Also known as the computer room and ex spare bedroom, though Heaven help us if anyone had to sleep in there now!)

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Looking for information…

Well they’ve gone home. The house, which I expected to be silent, is full of their echoes. We’ve tidied up the toys- didn’t want to, then we could pretend they’ll be back in just a few minutes. We’ve emptied the inflatable paddling pool and the garage is now stacked with all the outdoor toys. The beds are stripped and remade and the bedding washed. The carpets have been vacuumed to within an inch of their lives. And now I’ve retreated to my craft room to cheer myself up with some patterns.

Actually, I think I ought to tidy it up a little first, there’s hardly room to put paper down and, although I think the desk once had a wooden surface, there’s no evidence to support that theory, since all I can see are partially completed projects, unfiled Zentangle tiles and miscellaneous “stuff”.

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Macdee McDoodle

The day has started well. My daughter, son in law and grandson, who are staying with us at present, have gone out for the day to a friend’s wedding. I thought at first I’d gone deaf but no, it’s just the absence of small voice saying the immortal word:

“Grandma…” in  an interrogative tone, usually the precursor of a stream of consciousness monologue worthy of James Joyce.

Oh but how I will miss them when they go home. I’ll be praying for that little voice then. It’s like sensory deprivation. No toys to tread on; no wet wipes required; no nose prints on the windows; sounds of buzzing, zizzing, whooshing or flashing lights. Not sure whether it’ll be Heaven or Hell but it will certainly be different from the last couple of weeks.

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