Size of a house 🏡

This is something silly I wrote in 2003 when I was heavily pregnant with Maddie and feeling very uncomfortable and enormous. 🤰🐄🐳🏡

Size of a house 🏡

Come on, smelly

Leave my belly.

I feel like a wobbly jelly.

Don’t ask how,

Just get out now.

I am the size of a cow.

You’ll be frail,

Small and pale.

Unlike me, I'm like a whale.

Breast milk at least

Will be your feast.

Suckling from this mummy beast.

Skin stretch allows

Elephant from mouse.

I am the size of a house...

(But you can’t live here forever).

(19 days to go…..)

Poorly Grandad 😢

This is a poem I wrote when my dad was seriously ill and our eldest was only little. 💗

“Grandad is poorly,” said Mummy one day.

“What do you mean? Can he still play?”

"He can’t play as hard as he has done before,

He can’t roll around playing rough on the floor.

If he needs sleep, or is too tired to play,

We’ll come back to visit a different day.

But he’s still your Grandad despite all this,

And loves to give you a hug and a kiss.

He can’t fit his shoes on his two puffy feet,

He’s been wearing his slippers out in the street.

His face looks quite pale, his knees are both sore;

He can’t even run around anymore.

But he’s still your Grandad despite all this,

And loves to give you a hug and a kiss.

The doctors have given him lots of pills

To try to stop him from feeling ill.

Your cute little face will do him good,

You always brighten up his mood.

He’s still your Grandad despite all this,

And loves to give you a hug and a kiss.

So go and sit on your Grandad’s knee

And tell him you love him enormously."

Key gate...the case of the missing keys!

So back in mid November, I had a little panic that Christmas was looking far too quiet... and with the knowledge that next Christmas I will be on call, and the Christmas after, Paul will be on call, I thought we better enjoy this one to the max. Both of us were lucky enough to wangle two weeks off starting on Christmas morning, with a friend's wedding lying smack bang on the middle Saturday. Undeterred, I booked a four-day trip to Berlin to do the Christmas markets, flying back for the wedding on Saturday in Somerset before heading straight off to Kent for New Year with the in-laws. Perfect! 

However, our flight back into Bristol was due to land at 22.15 on Friday night and the wedding was at 12.00 the following morning. We would only have a 10 hour turnaround at home to unpack from Berlin, repack for four days in Kent, including wedding clothes, shoes, accessories, presents for the in-laws and get some sleep prior to the next two big late nights - the wedding reception and New Years Eve. What could possibly go wrong?!

Berlin was a tale of two halves – the frivolity and sparkle of the Christmas markets in contrast to the solemnity of some of the historical sites. After an enjoyable trip, we landed back in Bristol, tired, and got a taxi home. As we unloaded our suitcases from the taxi, we started searching for the house keys. Paul had definitely locked up when we left (phew - I hadn't lost them!). The taxi driver disappeared, showing no concern whatsoever for our predicament, just keen to chase his next fare.

By now, it was 11pm, freezing cold and dark, and raining into our open suitcases. Paul searched his suitcase. Nothing. I searched mine. Nope. He re-searched his and I double-checked it. Definitely no keys.

Neighbours! Which of the neighbours might have a key? There was a bedroom light on across the road at Naomi and Nick's. I rang Naomi's number. No answer. Then Nick’s number. Voicemail. But then Nick opened their bedroom curtains, appraised the situation in 2 seconds, and acted out a quizzical 'keys' action through the window. I gave him a thumbs up. Hurrah!
"I'm sure we have a set of your keys," he said at the front door, "We seem to have a set for most of the street." Sadly, they did have many, many sets of keys; but not ours. 
"We've got Sid and Amy's keys," he said helpfully. Sid and Amy live next door to us but were away on holiday. Needs must. I rang Amy. No answer. I rang Sid. He answered, very sleepily. I explained our predicament. He thought they did indeed have a set of our keys. He proceeded to give Nick and I ‘crystal maze’ style convoluted instructions about how to turn off their burglar alarm and find their spare keys. We listened very carefully and set off on our mission.

Success!! Hallelujah! They did have a set of our keys! We hugged, we laughed, we high-fived, and finally we unlocked our front door......only to find that our cleaner had been in while we were away and had locked the inner porch door....AAAARRRRGGGGHHH!!!
We could see through glass in the porch door that my set of keys were on the sideboard in the hall only about a foot away. Time for Plan B. Options were:

1.    Phone the cleaner to ask her to bring a set of keys. We didn’t think she’d appreciate that at1130pm on a Friday night. There are boundaries.

2.    Smash the glass and use my keys to unlock the door

3.    Call out a locksmith

In the interests of not making a mess, or angering the cleaner, we opted for the locksmith. He took 30mins to reach us and another 40mins to break us in. Apparently “These old locks were not made to be broken”, he chirped jovially as he drilled and pushed and levered with no sense of urgency.

Eventually we were in! By then, it was about 1am, the kids were bundled into bed. I did all the unpacking and repacking and eventually flopped into bed at 2am only to wake again with a start at 7am with my head buzzing with all that needed doing before our 10am departure.

The whole saga from the night before felt slightly surreal, evidenced only by the new hole in the porch door and the missing £125 cash requested by the locksmith (which we didn’t have - thank goodness the kids had been given cash for Christmas by some relatives or that would have been the next drama).


It was about 2 hours later there was a “NOOOOOOO!!!” from upstairs as Paul found his house keys in a little pocket in his camera case that he had on him the whole time after all.......😳

Christmas with Easyjet

Our flight home from Berlin was somewhat turbulent. Storms apparently. It started out as the usual gentle bumps and jolts  - enough for the seatbelt light to be switched on. No problem. But then the plane started to really pitch about all over the place - major shaking of the plane in every direction. Looks were exchanged between passengers, eyebrows were raised and eyes were rolled. The kids started to look a little alarmed.
"It's okay, don't worry." I said.
Then the plane began to nosedive quite suddenly and dramatically and the captain's voice came over the tannoy, 
"Crew, take your seats IMMEDIATELY!"
The crew didn't waste any time in doing exactly as he said. At this point, G (11) burst into tears crying, "No, no, no!"
"It's okay," I said, cuddling her and holding her close. In my best soothing voice,  "It's just a bit bumpy tonight isn't it. It'll be alright again soon." The outward voice of calm while inwardly my mind was screaming, "OH MY GOD, WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!!"
Bizarrely I found comfort in the thought that at least we would all die together (must be something to do with the palliative care doctor in me trying to make it a 'good death'). The plane then lurched upwards again and then down - I have never experienced anything quite like it except on fairground rides. After what seemed a long time, we passed through the storm and the buffeting stopped. The captain's voice came back over the tannoy,

"Sorry about that, it was a bit stormy back there. We have now dropped altitude so we are below the storm. There are other airplanes at this altitude though, so we'll have to keep an eye out." 
WHAT THE ACTUAL ?*$@