Families, Family, Food, Inspiration, Laughter, love, real life, Uncategorized, Whatever

Dear Paint Manufacturers

Dear Paint Manufacturers

As a grandparent, a parent and an enthusiastic DIY’r I wonder if I may be so bold as to make a few suggestions for the names of paint? Paint that parents could relate to, instantly imagining what the colour was like. A easily washable paint that didn’t take much work to maintain. You have a captive audience here I think, and I feel you’re missing a trick.

I’m asking this as I’ve just had my 1 year old granddaughter for the morning, and we shared lunch together. Of course this isn’t the first time she has been to my humble abode, but it’s the first time I have notice how much more interested in feeding herself she has become! Needless to say there was more food on the surrounding areas than in her little tummy. The simple plastic spoon became a weapon that any archer would have more than proud of. And her plastering skills were second to none!

Of course these new skills came with a sense of humour on her part. Each time she accomplished getting the food to where she wanted it to go, there was a huge smile on her face. This didn’t entail the food going in her mouth – oh no – more of it was on the wall and the floor!

So these are my suggestions to start with, I’m sure there are lots of parents out there with other ideas, something more seasonal, or families who eat different food ranges. Chinese – sweet and sour chicken perhaps. Indian – chicken or Paneer tikka, Dhal. The range could be endless.

Omelette – today’s colour of choice, a mild yellow with a few streaks of orange and yellow and green.

Lunch and desert – a sort of rainbow colour really. Imagine the colours of a wrap filled with fish fingers, tomato sauce, and some cucumber and lettuce, followed by blueberries. The colours would be vibrant and fresh, like a salad.

Tuna and Pasta – a subtle light pink colour, with a cream sheen. Restful and calm. Unlike lunch times.

Soup de jour – well that is anyone’s imagination. Whatever paint you have left at the end of a run, green pea and ham, to a vibrant orange carrot and parsnip or a subtle yellow, with a hint of green and yellow for mixed veg. The choice could be yours.

Bolognaise – a bright red would be just right for this, perhaps with a little soupçon of brown just to give it more of an authenticity. Or it could be in the range like suede, and glitter, with a bit of a bumpy surface?

I hope this has given you food for thought – no pun intended. After a long hour of cleaning the walls, I have very little sense of humour left. If I can order a litre of Bolognaise for next week, she’s back with me soon, I can arrange my meals around my wall colour.

Yours sincerely,

Nanna Pat

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Inspiration, Laughter, Uncategorized, Whatever

29 degrees

Goodness, it is so very hot. We aren’t used to this kind of weather in the UK.

The weather when you need to leave your windows open, so every mosquito and moth and bug can come in and have a party in your living room. Feasting on your blood, and leaving those itchy red welts for days to come. Or flying into the lights, and casting those ghostly shadows on the walls, as they dance the dance of light, before falling down to the ground in exhaustion.

Strappy tops and burnt shoulders are not a good look, or sandals with socks. But we insist on going out in this summer uniform until it cools down.

Last night my bedroom was 29  degrees, hot enough to cook an egg, if I had the energy to try! I slept out of the covers, or should I say I tried to sleep out of the covers. it was too hot. Then it was too cold, then it was too hot, it went on and on!

Well today is another day, a day of cool and calm. Actually I had so little sleep I think I’m hallucinating – it’s still hot – in fact its even hotter. Its not calm as I rush from room to room looking for some shade.

I’m going out soon, my car has air conditioning, its going to be a long car ride!

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Families, Inspiration, loss, love, real life, Uncategorized, Whatever, women

Memories of mam

Those around me are drowning in sorrow at the minute. It’s such a very sad time.

And it has made me remember my mam, and how very much I loved her, and still do. And every day I miss her so very much.

I’m listening to stories of long drawn out illnesses, and brave battles fought again and again. And long lives lived and memories made with young families. And with the greatest of sadness, a life not much older than mine being snatched away, while those around are helpless, and wordless – but not without a river of tears.

I had no time really to say good bye, just good night. The next morning she had gone, before I had time to tell her our plans of grandchildren and weddings. I know she didn’t want to go, it wasn’t how she planned it, I’m sure of that. Her favourite shopping was for hats. But life is both blessed and cruel. On one hand a fine engagement ring, on the other funeral plans. I’d just come back from Paris, where my kind loving boy had given me his undying love and knelt under the tower to ask me to be with him till death do us part.

I’d found one love and lost another – in the blink of an eye.

That’s why we need to say ‘I love you’ every day, with genuine feeling in our eyes. We need to build memories, not hide secrets. And treasure the family we have, for as long as we have them.

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Families, Inspiration, real life, Uncategorized, Whatever

Best laid plans, and all that nonsense.

I don’t often plan my life, it rolls along quite randomly. I might suddenly decide to go shopping, or I might suddenly decide to go out for a sneaky drink with my poor long suffering husband.

Not today. On the way to work I said – ‘I’d love to go for a drink tonight, a cool cider would go down a treat. It’s a hot day, and the  local watering hole Woodies Freehouse would be just the kind of place to stop’

OK he said. So a plan was hatched.

The problem is – I’m now the emergency baby sitting a sleeping granddaughter, and not holding a cool pint of cider. Things sometimes don’t turn out as you plan do they?

Perhaps next time I’ll stick to the randomness of my life.

 

 

 

 

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Inspiration, Laughter, real life, Uncategorized, Whatever

Dear Thumb

Dear thumb

I’m sorry I have treated you so very badly. I wouldn’t have done that for the world! You have been a very loyal thumb for many years, you have travelled with the rest of your digit chums through thick and thin, through warm and cold. And now look what I’ve done to you!

I caught you in a door, and not a glamorous door of a Maserati either. No, a humble toilet door. In fact a very very heavy, humble toilet door. The wind caught it….and slammed it on you, you poor little thing. Not so little now though. You’re turning the most glorious purple and black colour. Regal and chunky on the corner of my hand.

It’s not so easy to put socks on when you’re not helping. To do ones bra up, is impossible. And I thought I was right handed, but now I’ve realised I’m right handed, but with the support of you, my left thumb.

Get better soon, please.

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Inspiration, Motivation, real life, Uncategorized, Whatever, women

Pink & Blue, Blue & Pink

The stereotypical style of a girl/woman especially in the media is often pink and girly, bubby, and dare I say long blond hair. A little shallow for today’s audience don’t you think?

On the other hand the idea of a boy/man is blue, muddy and dirty, muscle bound and good at men’s things – DIY, cars, building and business. Good grief – where do they think all the other men have gone!

But the picture drawn by a student at Astor College Dover UK, encourages the viewer to think differently and to question how the rules can be broken. It was part of the exhibition held at the Tate Modern in April 2017. The theme was politics. And this was a reflection of just what some of modern politics is all about – identity, gender, sexuality and equality.

‘Which side would you choose?’ was the question asked of the viewer. It gave you the opportunity to stop and think how can we challenge what we are told is the norm? Look around you, feminine women with short hair, an air of grace and carrying themselves like they own the place, and they probably do. Women firefighters, and pilots, working alongside the male cabin crew. Roles that were once seen as part of a woman’s ‘domain’ including midwives and house husbands. It’s harder to see where the edges are these days.

We can all hide behind our clothes, the language of description we use for others and what is perceived by the masses as the norm – but do any of us dare to step out of the shadows into the light and show our true colours? To be brave and fight for our rights and the rights of others. Far removed from the suffragettes who chained themselves to the railing to fight for women’s right back in the 1920 we do it our own way today. As women we move up in politics and sit at the head of the table in business. We make ourselves independent, we don’t need someone to validate us in a relationship, we need someone to equal us, and move forward with us in our own right.

Some work places are more accepting of diversity than others and shamefully some religions are scarily narrow minded and bigoted. But of course people too fall into the same category, they carry these ideals with them because this is how they were educated by family and life. It’s time to break out though isn’t it?

I wonder which category you fall into – the good, the bad or the indifferent!

 

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Families, Inspiration, real life, Spirt and soul, Uncategorized, Whatever, women

I see a different me.

I wonder how many of us have the same feelings. That we are moving forward, but somewhere part of us stays back in the past when we were young without a care in the world. I often say to people, my body is 50+, but my mind is still 19. Dancing the night away, drinking a little too much, laughing a little too loudly, and staying a little too long.

 

I know what my chronological age is, but my mind thinks I’m someone else. It doesn’t see me as the lady of mature years, who often has a back problem, who suffers with her hips, and who has to colour her hair to cover the grey. It hasn’t quite got the hang of the crow’s feet and the worry lines around my eyes and my fore head. And for that I’m very grateful. The shadow I catch walking alongside me on that warm summers days, is mine. It’s slim and lithe, purposeful and dare I say elegant. It’s certainly not the description I would use for myself.

 

And the young person who dances to the rave music, waving her arms in the air. She was around in the 90’s, she joins me often when my favourite music comes on the radio, and we spend a while dancing the time away. I catch a glimpse of her in the kitchen window, or in the shadow of the fridge. She keeps me going, she makes my heart feel young, and all the time she is willing to follow me on my life’s journey it makes me feel happy and contented with my life now and in the past. We have been together she and I, 30 years of loving the same man. We both had babies together and she carried hers in the shadows, while I rocked mine in the light. But I would see her holding the hand of her young son, and hear her comforting words, in those same shadows. And I often thought how like mine they were reassuring, and gentle. We have walked the same path together, me getting older, while she has remained young and fresh. She watches over me like a guardian angel, and when I see her – she often give me a sideways glance of reassurance. And that is why I love that shadow of mine who follows me trustingly and with dedication

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