Stop

this train (of thought), I want to get off!

My inner conversation was going ten to the dozen Sunday morning, so I made some notes in an attempt to express the malcontent of a middle-aged mother.  And it's difficult for me to assess whether this is truly how I 'feel' or whether I was just hostage to hormones (again), so I wish you luck with this one....

Sunday morning we awoke to snow.  Middle of March and the daffodils just poking their heads out, and it snowed. And snowed.  Thick snow. Heavy snow.  Big snowflakes you could catch on your tongue if you wanted to.  For three hours. Not forecast.

No matter..... it's Sunday.  But.  The thought train pulled into the station and set off with me on it.  (On one).  How much more can the ground take?  It's already soaking wet from Friday (and hasn't yet recovered from last year), so I slipped along the garden to let the hens out, and I skidded round the Park walking the dog.  No-one else wanted to come.  Funny that.

And I wanted to shout at the snow and the weather.  Stop!  Enough.  It's all f**ked up.  The weather is  screwy.  Global warming. There should be a global warning.  Oh yes, there was, only no-one did anything about it.

Who are these 'no-ones'?  Politicians in the main, and business men pushing for profit. Growth above everything, progress. Push push push.  Where did it start? The Industrial Revolution? The Greeks? Romans? Incas? Ancient Civilisations? .... Who's to blame?

So the train took me back to the cavemen.  To our very essence.  Hunter-gatherer and mother nurturer.  The essential difference. The need for man to provide and mother to breast-feed the babies.  The basic difference is biological.  Women can't hunt when there is child suckling.  So they stay at home and look after the children.  And men have been responsible for the progress outside the home, because they were outside the home.  And on this train of thought, to my eyes, not  much has changed since then.

Why did it bother me so?  This so-called 'progress'?  A lot of good has come from men's innovations, ingenuity and invention.  A lot of bad also.  And is this all too much for my mind to comprehend? On a Sunday morning in the snow? Don't lose it now, stay on track... So-called progress.

Yes.  It's the soap -vs- shower creme debate.

lovely soap I'm using at the moment, I happily recommend it!

I'm firmly on the side of soap.  Much less packaging.  Easier to hold when it's in your hand. Takes up less space and lasts longer.  (It lasts longer because you don't lose it slipping down the plug hole if you accidentally drop it, unlike shower creme which slips out of the palm of my hand never to be seen again - grrrrr).  And when the shower creme's empty you can't get a re-fill as such (apart from The Body Shop).  Not very environmentally friendly if you ask me.

And I'm not very impressed with Olay's face cream packaging, which comes in a plastic bottle with a push button squirter thing, and leaves at least 0.5cm of cream in the bottom of the bottle when you get to the end of it.  I'm boycotting it from now on, and have moved onto 'Simple' brand, packaged in sensible jars with screw lids.  Only quibble I have here is it's difficult to tell the day cream apart from the night cream - I had to write day/night in indelible marker on the lids as both jars same size and have white lids.  I digress.

I feel we've sleep-walked into the world we're in.  There are so many things I disagree with. So many principles I've got problems with.  And so little in the way of protests to protect us from following this ill-fated pathway of progress.  There's a conspiracy of greed.  A conspiracy of growth.  A conspiracy of silence.

There.  I've thought it out-loud.  I'm anti-consumer.  And because I'm anti-consumer I'm also invisible and voiceless.  I don't count.  My bucks don't bang.  Because I don't have many and because I use them carefully....

... and then it stopped snowing...

I got off the thought train and I got on with the rest of my day and was thankful that the ride had stopped.  Is this really the way my mind is racing these days?  Because it reminds me of being a teenager, but obviously, with my age, it's in reverse.

Late again, and I've too much to do, as always.  Keep it sweet!  Kat.

We have all the time in the world...

or so my children would appear to think.

Trying to get them ready to do anything, even something that they want to do, is certain to raise my blood pressure. You'd think it would get easier as they got older, but no.  It seems that there are a million ways to distract them from the task in hand, distractions that had been nowhere to be seen until I say 'are you ready?'  'I just' is the first reply, or 'Phoebe said' or 'Tom did' or any excuse to not be  waiting by the front door when I ask them.

Just how military do you need to be to achieve co-operation? How much bribery goes on? How much cajoling and pleading and begging? How much shouting, blowing your top, bursting a blood vessel?  Why can't they just do as they're told, when they're told?  Sometimes I cope, and frankly other times I don't think I do. And that's all part of a normal day, all part of the usual routine, all part of the same old same old.  Getting ready for school.

They seem to live on another planet, in another time zone, in a different reality.  No matter that we discussed it the night before, and they were woken up in plenty of time, they have an uncanny ability to lose track of time, to let time slip through their hands, to waste time, to let time slip away, to dawdle, amble, and suspend their reality so that seconds pass like minutes, minutes pass like hours and hours pass like days.

I envy them.

When you're my age, time is precious, there's never enough time, time flies by too quickly, and the million other cliches that mean you regret the time you've wasted in the past.  What time passed is past and cannot be retrieved. You can't bank it or save it.  You can't buy it or hold onto it.  You don't realise the value of it until it's gone.

So I try my best.  Not to waste time.....  and you're reading this, so you'll have to tell me, is this a waste of time?   I hope not.  So, quickly then, more dogwalking in the snow.

Roly barking at the 'tin man' scarecrow in field off Wantage Park

birds scared, job done!

Here's the Wantage version of the 'Cresta Run' - the central avenue of beech trees in the park has a tarmac path, which when the snow/freeze conditions are right, and enough brave souls have gone down the track, becomes treacherously slippery...

from the top, looking down...

What alarms me is at the bottom there's a chain link fence, with a gate, and I wonder whether they open the gate or use it as a brake?

Anyway, I'm nice and snug/smug in my snow boots - they were another bargain find a couple of years ago in the Helen and Douglas House Charity Shop in Town.  Don't remember how much they were, not more than £10, but great value, and perfect for the snow. They get quite a few comments as well, and I'm always happy to make people smile :)

 Looking forward to leaving these grey days behind, but it's snowing again tonight, so we'll see what the school run looks like tomorrow.

Early night tonight, want to make further progress with The Sense of an Ending. Half way through, so want to get on and finish is soon.  Compelling reading, I want to know what happens next.

Keep it sweet y'all!  Kat

More daze than snow...

Up at 8.30am.  It's Sunday, and I got a good night's sleep and a lie-in!  Did I sleep well because Simon's gone to the USA and didn't steal the duvet last night?  I know it's a long way to go, but sometimes...  or did I sleep well because when he got up at 4.10am on Saturday morning, and left the house at 5am to get to the airport in time my sleep was broken and I felt knackered all day???

It's snowing again, and feels like a slow morning motivating the children to do all the necessary.  Which is a positive spin on me nagging them - get up, are you getting dressed before or after breakfast?  Come and have breakfast.  Have you brushed your hair/teeth?  washed your face? made your bed? got your wellies on? Are you coming for the dog-walk?  Why not?  What are you going to do instead?  Well, Tom and I will go and you can make those cookies you got the ingredients for.  Have you had your breakfast?  Please put your bowl in the sink. Try not to make a mess.  Tom, have a wee before we go out, and so on, and so forth.

After I'd put the clothes washing in the washing machine, filled and turned the dishwasher on, made leek and potato soup (for lunch), Tom and I took Roly for a walk, and we left Phoebe to make her Banana and White Chocolate Chunk Cookies.

Dog walking with Tom is a bit surreal.  Mostly entertaining, but sometimes the stream of consciousness conversation, whereby his mouth emits the stream of consciousness from his 6 year old boy brain just wears you down.  I can't keep up with his latest fad, his latest obsession, the latest Moshi Monster Moshling which one do you like Mummy, I don't really know, what about the googreen one, is that special, yes that's special and ultra rare like when kiki said to burney about the twistmas present, look what's Roly doing, I really like Monsuno when the something (at this stage I usually tune out as I'm mentally worn down trying to keep up).  Puts me in mind of a pinball machine...

Two things of interest on the dog walk.  Down the Letcombe Footpath for a change.  Roly met a deerhound.  I know it was a deerhound because I asked the people on the other end of the lead whether it was a wolfhound or a deerhound, and they said deerhound.  The fact that Roly almost fit underneath him sort of gave the game away... here's a picture for you, not one I took, but will give you an idea nonetheless.

Second thing of interest was on the way back Tom and I cut through the King Alfred's playing fields.  The stream skirts the field and defines the boundary with the farmer's field the other side.  There's a width of overgrown woodland by the stream, which couldn't be playing field because of the slope.  Over the years this area has been infiltrated by the local youngsters with their bmx bikes.  We've seen them there in the summer and they've built quite a course.  Some of the jumps are as tall as me, with a gap between them as wide as my arm span.  Which is fine, if a little scary - not the jumps in themselves, built up from the earth they've dug up - but the fact that they're positioned so closely between the trees, and there's little or no margin for error that I can see....

So, Tom's in there exploring and we spot a fire burning quite nicely in the gap between one of the jumps.  Wierd.  It's 11.30am and no sign of anyone else nearby.  Tom is fascinated and throws handful after handful of snow into the fire, which does absolutely nothing to it, bedded in and ember-endowed as it is.

The snow falling today was the very fine powder stuff again, but there felt like a melt going on all the same.  Forecast to freeze tonight, but schools are open, so back to the usual tomorrow.  Uploaded the sledging photos from the Park.. Yes, it really was this grey looking beneath the cloudy sky.

Wantage Park sledgers in the snow, Jan 2013

the wonders of zoom on my camera!  Phoebe and Tom are there...

I think he missed the snowball.

That's all for now.
Time for bed and more of Julian Barne's 'The Sense of an Ending'.

Thanks for reading, keep it sweet, Kat  ;)

Snow daze

And then it really snowed.

Monday was just the tease. The predicted snow came on Friday morning as Phoebe was leaving to get her school bus.  Light small dry floaty flakes at 7.15am. 'See you later' called Phoebe at 7.30am slamming the door, and the snow was falling steadily, settling, and setting a quiet over everything....

The schools had said watch for e-mails, check facebook or their websites.  By 8.21am Tom's school had announced it was closed for the day. Just as well we were running late then, or I'd have driven 10 miles there and back for nothing... and by 12.30pm, and a good 4 inches (that's 10cm in new money) and no sign of it stopping, my boss told me that all libraries in the county were closing at 1pm, to ensure staff got home safely.  Our library only opens from 2-5pm on a Friday anyway, so that's a free day off then.... I love my job!  yippee!

The road outside our house didn't look all that clever. There was so little traffic that the snow was settling, and the gritters only went past at around 3pm.  I know this as we were sledging down the hill in the park opposite our house, and I heard them and saw the flashing lights through the park hedge.

Phoebe's school sent them home after lunch, so naturally I dug out the ski-gear and we headed to the slopes.

We're lucky where we live because the park opposite our house is 6 acres, with some hedged off formal/childrens' play/no dogs allowed, and 2 tennis courts and a bowling club/green.  The rest is on the slopes of Chain Hill and free access where mostly dog walkers exercise their dogs/themselves and where the Council used to maintain a 9 hole practice golf course (I don't know the par, but it looked tricky because it's on a hill).

When I say used to, they've not looked after it for a couple of years, budget cutbacks and all that.  Whilst this may be a drawback to the few who used this amenity, the upside of the neglect is that the now overgrown bunkers make good obstacles for the sledgers, and test the ingenuity of the snowboarders(!) I saw who banked the bunker bank up with snow to make a jump, and jumped (with joy) over(off?) it.

It's been a few years now since we went ski-ing.  I keep doing the lottery (you never know..), but don't see us going this year.  So digging the ski-gear out of the blanket box where it's stored was a bit painful.  As ever, watching the pennies I pick up things for the children in charity shops when I see them, and try not to put on weight myself.  So I was pleased to be still able to fit into my snowboarding trousers.  Phoebe tried on the last pair of salopettes I'd squirreled away, and they fit quite nicely, but alas, there was nothing for Tom.

Well, he's already wearing a hand-me-down ski jacket from Beatrice (don't ask!), but last year he'd had an all-in-one ski suit, which had become tight across the shoulders, so had been passed onto his cousins before Christmas.  I hadn't realised that there were no trousers for him at all.  So he wore his jeans with his snow-boots (which I'd bought, new!, before Christmas), and a pair of long shorts on top.  He doesn't even have waterproof over trousers, for goodness sake! What kind of country Mum are you?  Not the proper kind, obviously.

Still, it didn't stop them.  We hit the park at 2.30pm and returned home, worn out and wet at 4.30pm.  They'll sleep well tonight I thought to myself.

Simon had missed all the fun of course.  He'd managed to get up to London for his meeting, and had borrowed my camera, so I couldn't take photos.  He's gone off to USA today for the week, for a new product launch.  Rather him than me, travelling's not glamourous.  He was up at 4.10am (to account for the weather/travel disruption) to get to Gatwick for his flight.  So I had today booked off work as holiday to look after the children, as Saturday mornings I'm usually out 9am-1pm.  So that made a nice change.

More sledging this afternoon (after chores in the morning), and the snow had frozen overnight and was much faster today.  We got the wooden framed sledge down from the attic and gave it it's first outing.  Great fun, and that old-fashioned design is a classic.  'Nowt wrong wi' that' as they'd say 'up north'.

hard frost in Wantage Park, December 2012

the old golf course is the other side of the central avenue of beech trees...

that dog again!

I was rather taken with the hard frost that morning.  More snow forecast for tomorrow and Tuesday, so we'll see if life really grinds to a halt.  I've got Monday off work as need to collect Tom from school in Simon's absence, and then back to usual routine.

Best turn in, it was an early alarm this morning, and I need my (beauty) sleep or I'm fit for nothing the next day.

ttfn, Kat. :)

And there it was,

gone.

The snow that was. Woke up today, Monday, and it's snowed outside, a good two fingers deep, but the road's clear so no excuses.

Let the dog out. He's turned around on the doorstep and is back in the house before I can close the door.  Wuss! (as in wimpy, soft, daft thing that's scared of its own shadow).  But we have to remember   he's 10 now, and make allowances....

Wellies on, coat on, scarf on and off down the bottom of the garden to let the hens out.  Check their water, frozen, see to that. Return with fresh water, and no sign of the girls. They don't like it either. They'll come out when they're hungry.

Come to think of it, I remember last time it snowed and stuck was the old hen house, and they wouldn't leave the bottom of the arc at all.  I think their tiny hen brains (no insult, but their brains must be small because their heads are small) have a real problem when the world turns white. They don't understand where the normal world has gone, so they really don't want to venture out into this great white unknown.

So by the time it's school taxi (me) I unlocked my car, opened the door, and noticed that the way the snow had piled up meant a good dollop of the white stuff  landed squarely on my driver's seat... deep joy, not.  But once out on the road it's clear, and as usual it's the other idiots you've to watch out for.

Home after the school run and walk the dog. I didn't take him to the Folly at Faringdon today as it's still absolutley lethal underfoot, and with a disguising blanket of snow I didn't want to risk any more loss of dignity.... (I slipped on the dog walk on Friday morning, ending up on my derriere, and wrist deep in mud - wrist deep as I put my hand out to cushion the fall).

Whizzed through the pile of ironing, 2 baskets' worth, and by lunchtime the melt was set in, with rain for good measure.  Checked the hens, they were by now looking very skanky, wet and bedraggled and huddled under the hen house for shelter.  2 eggs.  nice :)

Here's a thing.  I know I've gone on about not being a 'dog person' in other postings.  But the funny thing is, now, after having had Roly for 8, no 9 years, I couldn't imagine being without a dog.  Hence the previous post, my confession, my disloyalty, my guilty secret (I want an Irish Terrier).  There are many positives, and the best aspect of having a dog is the dog walking.

I really like going for dog walks. Me and Roly, or with the rest of the family as well.  The great outdoors is exactly that.  It's become such a part of daily life it's like breathing.  A day without a dog walk is a day without meaning, and that's saying something coming from me.

Dog walk yesterday on the Ridgeway, near the Wantage Monument....

The Monument on the Ridgeway states 'this cross is raised in/to his memory by his wife' (to Lord Wantage) there's a whole history to be told there...

On that note I'll say goodnight... sweet dreams y'all, :)  Kat