pinch and punch

Today being 1st of November, laying in bed, I waited for my husband to come close enough, then I got in quick as he leaned in for a kiss. I pinched his arm and punched his chest, only lightly of course. His response being.

‘Damn, you beat me to it.’

Most months he gets me first, so this month it was my turn.

Do any other couples participate in this tradition?

Do any of you know where it comes from?

I thought I would have a look to see what google would tell me.

It’s a fact 1: As president, George Washington met local Indian tribes on the first day of each month, when he would supply fruit punch with an added pinch of salt. It became known as “pinch and punch on the first of the month”.

It’s a fact 2: Originating from old England times when people thought that witches existed. People thought that salt would make a witch weak, so the pinch part is pinching of the salt, and the punch part was to banish the witch. The witch would be weak from the salt so the punch was to banish her.

It’s a fact 3: According to playground rules, your pinch and punch has to be followed immediately with the words, “White rabbits, no return”. By saying so, it means you can’t be pinched back.

I have checked several websites and they all seem to come up with the same answers.

Skater reminded me today that it is just one month until his birthday. His last birthday as a teenager! Where have the years gone. It doesn’t seem five minutes since I was pregnant with prodigal, yet here we are about to celebrate Skater turning 19 which also means that my dad has been gone for nearly 20 years, how did that happen?

Yesterday was Halloween, I hadn’t bought any treats this year as we never get any trick or treaters at our door. However Owl had been working on a project in our front garden and was just finishing up with the use of the light from the hall. A group of children in fancy dress saw the light at the door and took their chance. Next thing I knew Owl was raiding our confectionery cupboard, there was very little in the cupboard but he managed to grab enough loot to keep the gaggle of children happy. The next lot unfortunately went away empty handed.

The reason that Owl had been in the garden in the dark is that he was finishing off work he had begun earlier but had to stop for a meeting he was having regarding some work that he might be taking on. The meeting lasted a lot longer than he had anticipated.

Hopefully his meeting will result in Owl working for our future.

I used to be a mummy

I used to be a mummy to four little rug rats (Prodigal, Statto, Pug and Skater). These little boys would run rings around their mummy. I always felt that I must be a bad mummy as I couldn’t control my brood. They never did what I said, they thought my living room was a) a football pitch, b) a wrestling ring.

Sometimes they were so naughty that I would stand in the middle of the room and scream. That got their attention for a while. Other times I would put on my coat and shoes and walk out of the door saying good bye. They would come running after me. ‘Mummy mummy don’t go, we will be good.’

Whenever I mentioned to anyone that I didn’t think I was very good at being a mummy, I was told that I was a very good mummy. When we were out my boys were well behaved and polite. Even our neighbours thought I was bringing up my boys well unlike the screeching noisy girls that lived next door to us.

There were times when half the neighbourhood’s children were in my house/garden. There were also times when I would walk to the local park with a string of children following me, rather like mother duck with all her ducklings.

Then after I recovered from Cancer I didn’t know how long I would be around for my boys so I got involved in the football club that they belonged to. By then I was more Mum than Mummy.  Not only did I have my own boys but their friends too. My car was always full of teen aged boys covered in mud, smelling of sweat.

I dreaded the teenage years, tantrums and strops. They never happened though. I believe it was because I spent my evenings talking to Prodigal then a few years later Statto, then Pug  and Skater. I learnt about the music that they liked/played. I learnt about all the football clubs in the Premiership, who the players were, who the managers were and what the grounds were called.

During the difficult period when I was divorcing the other parent, my boys became my support. They protected me from the abuse I was subjected to. My boys were growing up.

Now three of my boys are living else where. They have partners, they don’t need a Mummy any more. However they do all still love their Mum.

 

When we get knocked down

When we get knocked down we get up again.

Three out of my four sons are on the move or at least they are trying to be.

It should be easy, you find a place you like, you put down a deposit, sign the contract and move in.

Number one son and friends found a flat in London that they liked. The idea being that four of them (two couples who have lived together for a while now) would share a flat in London. They scraped together their deposit, the landlord increased the deposit required. The deposit found, provisional moving date agreed, (today). The landlord cancelled!

Time was running out as the house that the group currently live in has been sold.

So they picked themselves up, dusted themselves off and looked again. Yesterday they put down a holding deposit, today they are told that the rent is actually higher than advertised. They were hoping to move in the next week.

Tomorrow Number three son is due to move into his new home in Oxford. For a while it was touch and go whether he would be able to move. Many calls and messages back and forth the move is now back on.

 

It seems as though all my life or at least for many years I keep getting knocked down, I dust my self off and get back up again. I feel like a weeble. I just hope that my son’s don’t get knocked over as much in their lives, but when they do, they get back up again.

 

Going on the road

This morning I shall be setting off with Owl to visit his sister and her husband. We are both looking forward to seeing them. It will be my first visit to The Peak District, although I have previously visited a friend who I met through blogging a few years ago, who lives on the edge of the Peak District.

To get there I shall be spending quite a while on the A34. I shall be interested to see how the landscape has changed since the demolition of three of the cooling towers at Didcot.

Although there are several routes I could take to get to and from my sister in law’s place it is likely that I shall use theA34 on the return home in a few days time. Then guess what I shall be doing in a week’s time. Yes I shall be back on the A34 taking Pug back to Oxford where he will be moving into a shared house with friends from Uni. If we have room in the car Skater will be going with us so that he can stay with his brother for a few days before heading off to Reading Festival the following weekend.

Also going on the road this weekend albeit a different road, Prodigal and his merry band New Desert Blues will be performing at Boardmasters Festival where they will be playing on the same stage as George Ezra.

Not on the road but travelling by train Statto and Miss Effervecence will be visiting us on Thursday 🙂

 

D is for daughter

I have been feeling the need to write something new on here. What could I write about? I didn’t have a clue, then I remembered that back in February 2013 I came up with the idea, following something that Pete Denton had written. Whenever I don’t have a subject to write about I will take the next letter of the alphabet and write a post using that letter. Starting with this post here then going on to letters B and C. Now comes the turn of D. Each time I said to myself D is for … I just kept coming up with the word Daughter. Why could that be? There are many other words I could have chosen but Daughter is the one that I keep hearing in my mind.

Daughter, well I am one. I hope I am a good one although I have never been the perfect daughter, I do try to be the best that I can be. I see some of my friends posting messages to their wonderful daughters on facebook. I don’t have any daughters of my own. I do have one step daughter though, Missy M. Over the last few years since I met Owl, I have had many skype chats with Missy M (who lives in California with her mother and brother and their new family). Last year I was lucky enough to spend two weeks in California for our honeymoon. During that time we spent several days with Missy M, which enabled me to get to know my new step daughter without having a computer screen between us. Five weeks later Missy M and family were in the UK for three weeks so again we were able to spend time with them.

I particularly enjoyed her first visit to our home. She was amazed to see so many things that were familiar to her as well as things that were new to her. She loved our home, she also got on well with my sons, now her step brothers. Poor girl now has one brother and six step brothers and one step sister. Its a good thing that both her parents were past having new babies with their new partners.

I have also come to the realisation in recent months that although none of my boys have married they do have girlfriends who they feel will be their life partners. Prodigal and Model have been together for 10.5 years and although they don’t have that piece of paper that makes it official they are in a committed relationship. I guess that makes Model my daughter in law in all but name.  In a few weeks time Prodigal and Model are moving to London with two of their friends. The house/flat viewings begin this week. Prodigal will be able to get more work in London and hopefully Model will find more opportunities in the fashion industry once they are in the big smoke.

Statto and his girlfriend (who has just qualified as a primary school teacher) will also begin viewings for a new home together, with another couple, in south London, in a few weeks. Whilst Statto and Miss Effervescent have been together a little under a year they already believe that they are a match made in chemistry.

Not to be out done by his elder brothers, Pug and his Princess, have plans to live together next year (their third year at Uni). This year they feel they must concentrate on their studies. They will be living in different student houses in Oxford this year but still try to spend time together when they are neither studying nor working. He has no doubts that Princess will one day become his wife.

It seems that although I don’t have any daughters I do have three young ladies, whom I can consider to be my daughters in law. Not forgetting the lovely Missy M who is my step daughter.

I hope that in the years to come I shall get on as well with my ‘daughters’ as my mother does with my sisters in law.

 

Perhaps I should apologise

Maybe I should apologise to my family and friends. That doesn’t mean that I will though. Is it my fault or were they just reading between the lines? Is it my fault if everyone put 2 and 2 together and came up with 5?

It was merely a thought that had been going around in my head for a few days. I have been saying for ages that I don’t want this stage in my  life to occur too soon. Many of my friends have been enjoying this stage in life for several years already, but for me the time just hasn’t arrived, much to my great relief. Recently though I have been mulling it over, would it really be the end of the world? People have been telling me that I will love it, but no, I have steadfastly refused to allow the possibility to become reality in my head.

Feeling mischievous, I decided to put my thoughts out there in the form of an observation. I knew that there was a chance that my words could cause a stir amongst my family. I figured it would be mildly amusing to see if it would get the family jungle drums beating. Sure enough excitement was growing among my friends near and far.  I could almost see the smiles from various parts of the country as well as from Australia. Even family members began to notice.

Later I mentioned to Skater about a particular photo I had seen, it was very unexpected and actually rather heart warming. It was a black and white image of Prodigal smiling down at a small baby he was holding in his hands. I have no idea whose baby it is but the look on my son’s face was a pleasant surprise. (he told me, a while ago, that he doesn’t care much for babies and small children and it will be sometime before he and his partner have a family.) Skater went to look at the photo for himself.

I was in the kitchen when Skater informed me that I had caused something of a ‘kerfuffle’. He had seen my facebook status.

Not sure if I shall ever be ready but gradually coming around to the idea of being a grandparent

A number of my friends have congratulated me. Some have asked which of my sons is becoming a father. Pug has been left astonished.

I do think the whole thing is funny. Am I not allowed to say that after years of watching my friends delight in their grandchildren, I am now beginning to feel that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if my children started having children of their own, once they are settled in their own lives.

My body has been telling me that I am starting to feel more like a second hand motor with bits going wrong, than a new car that’s full of vigour and umph. Maybe I should stop saying that I am far too young to be a grandparent. Maybe I should accept that eventually it will happen. Hopefully whilst I am still young enough to enjoy the new generation.

So if my words have caused heart failure among my boys and their partners then I am sorry for that but otherwise I make no apology for saying maybe grandchildren may not be so bad after all.

The long night

It was a long trip to London, considering that we are only 73 miles from our destination. First we had to head in the wrong direction to pick up Skater’s two mates Luke and Dom. By the time we were on our way we were only just ahead of the rush hour traffic. Because we were going in the opposite direction to most of the traffic we didn’t hit any hold ups until we reached Guildford, it was a slow crawl most of the way from there. I had decided (at Statto’s suggestion) to drive to Morden where we could then get the underground to Kings Cross which is just 5 minute walk from the church we were going to. Having left home at 4pm we reached Morden just on 7pm. By which time both Skater and I were desperate to find restrooms. Driving through busy traffic in the dark looking for somewhere to park proved to be beyond my ability.

Failing to find anywhere near to the station to park we ended up in South Wimbledon, one of the lads managed to find a car park on their phone gps. Following their directions I found myself attempting to drive along residential roads with vehicles parked on both sides making for slow progress especially when we came face to face or rather headlights to headlights at a stand off with oncoming vehicles. Who would give in and back up? I was driving our 4 x 4 Chevrolet Blazer but don’t have the confidence to back up in a straight line for 100m without hitting anything especially in the dark in unfamiliar surroundings. Both of us had stopped but just as I was throwing my vehicle into reverse we saw that our adversary was flashing his lights at us. Cautiously I crept forward until I found a gap in the parked cars on my left, sliding half into the gap there was just enough room for the other car to pass by. No sooner had I begun to tug the wheel to the right but another car appeared at the end of the road. This one obviously had no intention of waiting so I had no choice but to sit tight until the road ahead was clear for me to swing out and continue on my way.

It was probably another 5 minutes before we found the car park, only to discover that it was completely full. A sharp eyed lad in  the back noticed that someone was returning to their car so a quick circuit of the car park brought us back to the soon to be vacant space. By this time I was becoming desperate to relieve my bladder, from his comments I knew that Skater was just as desperate. Following gps we set off at fast walk (fast for me) towards the station and the certainty that we would find toilets at the station. Minutes before we reached the underground station we saw a petrol station on the other side of the road. Assuming that the petrol station shop would have public toilets, we crossed the road and trooped inside. Making a circuit of the shop it quickly became apparent that this might be a convenience store but there were no conveniences. Setting off again we soon saw the underground sign ahead of us.

At last we were there, pushing buttons on the closest ticket machine I attempted to purchase 4 tickets as speedily as I could standing there with my legs crossed hoping for relief once we were through the barriers and down the ceramic tile walled stairs. It was with dismay that we realised all that was at the end of the stairs were the two platforms, one for north bound and one south bound trains. we barely had a minute to wait for our train. Being only the second stop on the line the carriage was fairly empty so the four of us were able to find seats together. It is funny (or at least I thought so) that my three teenage companions who had chatted non stop for 3.5 hours, hardly uttered a word between them for the entire 40 minutes we were rattling along below the streets of London. The closer we got to the City the more crowded the carriage became and it was noticeable that the casual dress of earlier travellers was changing to more formal workwear.

Finally we exited our carriage at Kings Cross and made our way as rapidly as we could up the numerous stairs and escalators to find our way out onto the street. Still we had not found any public conveniences. Trying to work out which direction we needed to follow we spotted a MacDonalds restaurant on a nearby street corner. A  consultation resulted in agreement that a quick pee break followed by a burger was in order. As we stood on the corner of the street waiting to get to the other side and relief it felt like an eternity before the traffic stopped to let us cross. As soon as we had crossed the road the three lads disappeared up the stairs to the gents. I followed as quickly as I could up the stairs to the ladies.  Once there the flood gates opened, I was beginning to think they were not going to stop.

Back downstairs I bought chicken burgers for myself and Skater, the other two lads were already eating their food. I text Statto to let him know we were in the area, he replied that the first act had already finished and Prodigal would soon be on stage. Chivvying the lads out of the door we strode off (they strode, I trotted) as fast as my little legs would move along the west side of St Pancras International station towards the Old Church where New Desert Blues would be performing. I have never seen such an endless queue of waiting taxis. Finally we made our way up a set of steps to the church entrance. Luckily it was still the interval, I was greeted by Statto, I managed to find a chair and sat at the side of the crowd leaving Skater and friends chatting with Statto.

I didn’t have long to compose myself before my son and his fellow band members were on stage. I really enjoyed the show that the put on for us. I felt that the use of this old church was an inspired venue. I loved the shadows on the walls and ceiling thrown up by the different coloured lights used for each song performed. Here are a few examples.

IMG_1498  IMG_1499  IMG_1503  IMG_1504  IMG_1502   As much as I was enjoying the performance I was still keeping a watch on the time. When we had left the car one of the lads had noticed a sign stating that the Car Park closes at 11pm, this meant that we had to be on our way back by 10pm. I was relieved therefore when the performance ended at 9.45pm but before we could leave there were a number of people I had to speak to. Fellow parents and others I had not seen for years. The last person I managed to speak to was Prodigal (I had already seen his girlfriend and her father). Then began the fast trot back to the station.  We found a quicker route this time and were satisfied with our progress until reaching the ticket barrier where only three of us made it through unimpeded. Panic set in, none of us had any cash on us to buy another ticket and the one Luke had just wasn’t working. He ran to speak to a LT worker who pointed him in the direction of another worker speaking to a woman at the barrier. Luke patiently waited his turn but the woman and the worker walked away from the barrier to a bank of ticket machines. Eventually Luke was let through the barrier and we made our way into the bowels of the station.

A few minutes later we were on the packed train and there was nothing we could do but sit patiently until we reached our station. It was 11pm when we left the station and we still had a 10 minute hike back to the car. There was nothing I could do but walk as quickly as my legs would carry me as tired as I was by then. If I had been religious I would have been praying that the car park would be open. I could almost have let out a whoop whoop when I found that my car was not stuck in a locked car park. I had not been driving for long when I realised that all three lads were asleep.

Of course the drive home was much quicker and easier than the drive there had been. I had got the boys back to their homes and arrived back at our home by 1.05am. The whole trip had taken 9 hours but it had been worth it.