When it comes to sports kit, it is almost impossible to keep up to date with a growing family of sports-minded people. Football boots that cost more than they should are guaranteed to have been outgrown by half-way through a season; although I have to hand it to offspring#2 who finished the last few matches of last season with boots taped afresh each week to hold them together and in situ - with size 13 feet it is far from easy to find footwear to fit!
The approach to this year's cricket season was tempered with queries and suggestions such as, "Do your whites still fit? Do you know where they are? Have your feet grown (again)? Should you check any of the above." With replies assuring me that all was, "Fine, Mum," said with suitable 'go away and leave me alone' tone, I relaxed. Cricket is, after all, the preferred sport for the males of the family and I know that they're keen to begin the season.
First match was last Monday. Monday morning came the cry, "Can't find my whites and the only shirt is too small." And then before I had a chance to swing round from making up packed lunches, "Are you going out today?" Books tend not to write themselves when interrupted by ad hoc shopping trips which may well explain why I'm only half way through this re-write instead of considerably further along.
Wearing a shirt three sizes too big, the afore-mentioned child played in multiple layers designed to help keep him warm for this summer game played in decidedly temperate conditions. Other-half's missing kit was found in a plastic bag at the bottom of the stairs and older sibling's grubby kit retrieved from the bag in which it had been sitting since last August - surprised it didn't walk out of its own accord.
I buy tracksuits on a regular rotational basis, know that it can take one child up to two hours to find a pair of trainers to fit, another will be satisfied with the first pair tried. We have, somewhere, different length spikes for various athletics disciplines, at least 10 mouth guards here in assorted colours; we have weapons aplenty in the form of bats, sticks, riding crops, racquets and a javelin; pads for protection, gloves for virtually any sporting discipline, body protectors, helmets, hard hats, boots, balls ranging from in size from squash and golf to medicine balls for strength and conditioning via the greenhouse-shattering cricket balls. A catching net props up one end of the garden in the summer, a makeshift goal at other times there is a temporary badminton net and the yard becomes a cricket pitch when weather permits. And 101 socks.
Yes we have kit, but the never the right stuff at the right time!
Monday, 29 April 2013
Wednesday, 17 April 2013
Wisdom tooth woe
It has taken some years for my teeth to decide that it is time to be wise; something that my brain has yet to take into consideration! Yesterday was D-day for extraction of one such tooth that had decided to grow horizontally towards my molar, causing all manner of potential problems.
I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason why dentists persist in using vast metal syringes rather than the rather natty disposable ones favoured by nurses, but it does little to encourage a relaxed state of mind as something capable of knocking out a horse at ten paces looms towards your face!
I had obeyed orders and partaken of a large breakfast, but the combined effect of the numbing gel and two syringe dose of local anaesthetic, caused my throat to become numb and me to feel as though I could neither breathe nor swallow, in turn becoming grateful for the support of the dental chair as a feeling of nauseousness swept over me.
Scalpel, pick-axe and wrench took their turns, followed by a long needle and some fishing line resulting, I'm told, in a relatively 'clean' extraction. During the grinding and crunching when I wondered how long my jaw would hold out, the dentist uttered those immortal words, "You're doing well and we're nearly there." I was pinned with afore-mentioned weapons in my mouth otherwise there may have been a similar response to that given to just-out-of-college midwives who tried to reassure me during hours 20-30+ that labour and childbirth didn't really hurt at all - 'So how many children do you have?'. I'm not sure how many wisdom teeth have been pulled from my - very good and kind - dentist, but there may have been an admittance of potential pain if such treatment had been undergone.
Nearly 24hours later and I still feel as though I've gone a few rounds with a knuckle-duster wearing Mike Tyson, but I did manage a little porridge this morning and my combination of painkillers is doing something to dull the pain.
The good news - another wisdom tooth began to come through at the weekend!
I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason why dentists persist in using vast metal syringes rather than the rather natty disposable ones favoured by nurses, but it does little to encourage a relaxed state of mind as something capable of knocking out a horse at ten paces looms towards your face!
I had obeyed orders and partaken of a large breakfast, but the combined effect of the numbing gel and two syringe dose of local anaesthetic, caused my throat to become numb and me to feel as though I could neither breathe nor swallow, in turn becoming grateful for the support of the dental chair as a feeling of nauseousness swept over me.
Scalpel, pick-axe and wrench took their turns, followed by a long needle and some fishing line resulting, I'm told, in a relatively 'clean' extraction. During the grinding and crunching when I wondered how long my jaw would hold out, the dentist uttered those immortal words, "You're doing well and we're nearly there." I was pinned with afore-mentioned weapons in my mouth otherwise there may have been a similar response to that given to just-out-of-college midwives who tried to reassure me during hours 20-30+ that labour and childbirth didn't really hurt at all - 'So how many children do you have?'. I'm not sure how many wisdom teeth have been pulled from my - very good and kind - dentist, but there may have been an admittance of potential pain if such treatment had been undergone.
Nearly 24hours later and I still feel as though I've gone a few rounds with a knuckle-duster wearing Mike Tyson, but I did manage a little porridge this morning and my combination of painkillers is doing something to dull the pain.
The good news - another wisdom tooth began to come through at the weekend!
Monday, 15 April 2013
Buzzing Bees
Consumption of honey in this household is high; this, combined with a desire to do our bit for the struggling UK honey bee, led to me take a ten week beekeeping course in the early months of this year.
Theory is all very well, but yesterday we were called to the local area's apiary to begin to put some of our hard earned knowledge into practice. Things I have learned:
1. There is no elegant way in which to don an all-in-one bee-suit whilst hopping on one leg with red boggy ground beneath one's feet.
2. Along with one other, I am the youngest there by at least 15 years, therefore am assumed to have the agility to complete the above task. As the sole female, my fellow beekeepers are unsure whether to offer help or stare into space!
3. I still don't like the sound of multiple insects buzzing about my face, but
4. It is neither wise nor cool to swipe haphazardly at the few honey bees who are struggling to cope with being so rudely interrupted on a Sunday afternoon! Slowly and surely is the mantra.
5. Vision behind a mesh is not good, not even when teamed with glasses which are pushed down my nose by the hat and veil. This may be a good thing, I tried not to look to see how many of the little wonders had settled on me.
6. The apiary manager may want to choose someone else to write the hive record card, my handwriting whilst leaning on thin air is even worse than usual. The next person to inspect may wonder if the queen was a no show or had laid copious combs-worth of eggs.
7. I'm hooked, after half an hour.
8. But still have a life-time's worth of knowledge to assimilate and absorb so hope the fascination lasts long enough to provide the family with a jar or two of honey!
Theory is all very well, but yesterday we were called to the local area's apiary to begin to put some of our hard earned knowledge into practice. Things I have learned:
1. There is no elegant way in which to don an all-in-one bee-suit whilst hopping on one leg with red boggy ground beneath one's feet.
2. Along with one other, I am the youngest there by at least 15 years, therefore am assumed to have the agility to complete the above task. As the sole female, my fellow beekeepers are unsure whether to offer help or stare into space!
3. I still don't like the sound of multiple insects buzzing about my face, but
4. It is neither wise nor cool to swipe haphazardly at the few honey bees who are struggling to cope with being so rudely interrupted on a Sunday afternoon! Slowly and surely is the mantra.
5. Vision behind a mesh is not good, not even when teamed with glasses which are pushed down my nose by the hat and veil. This may be a good thing, I tried not to look to see how many of the little wonders had settled on me.
6. The apiary manager may want to choose someone else to write the hive record card, my handwriting whilst leaning on thin air is even worse than usual. The next person to inspect may wonder if the queen was a no show or had laid copious combs-worth of eggs.
7. I'm hooked, after half an hour.
8. But still have a life-time's worth of knowledge to assimilate and absorb so hope the fascination lasts long enough to provide the family with a jar or two of honey!
Tuesday, 9 April 2013
Customer loyalty
In our post-Thatcherite days it would appear that customer loyalty counts for very little with some businesses.
As customers of a certain oil company for the past sixteen years we certainly didn't expect special treatment - indeed the repeated bargaining over prices to have them reduced from initial quotes should have warned us that we were regarded simply as a cash supply system - but a little customer care might have been nice.
Our ancient oil tank has no gauge and the top is rusting beautifully. To check on oil, I climb a step-ladder and plunge a bamboo into the depths to try and work out how many weeks or days worth we have left, it's a technical task!
As customers of a certain oil company for the past sixteen years we certainly didn't expect special treatment - indeed the repeated bargaining over prices to have them reduced from initial quotes should have warned us that we were regarded simply as a cash supply system - but a little customer care might have been nice.
Our ancient oil tank has no gauge and the top is rusting beautifully. To check on oil, I climb a step-ladder and plunge a bamboo into the depths to try and work out how many weeks or days worth we have left, it's a technical task!
Magic Mushrooms
On the front page of the Sunday paper was a headline proclaiming that, 'Magic Mushrooms could help treat people with severe depression.' How times have changed!
In the educational establishments that nurtured me through my teens, the consumption of such fungi was deemed to be an offence worthy of explusion. Tales abounded regarding the best placed neck of the woods to find such food - the school canteens weren't up to much - and the brave ventured forth to gather in the harvest. Whether real or imagined, psychedelic bubbles in the sky and floating about on heavenly clouds whilst watching morphing shapes were said to be the beneficial effects of such bounty.
One wonders whether the current crop of adventurous students will be found, broadsheet newspaper in hand, proclaiming to headteachers up and down the land that their depressive state necessitated the use of this medicinal foodtype!
In the educational establishments that nurtured me through my teens, the consumption of such fungi was deemed to be an offence worthy of explusion. Tales abounded regarding the best placed neck of the woods to find such food - the school canteens weren't up to much - and the brave ventured forth to gather in the harvest. Whether real or imagined, psychedelic bubbles in the sky and floating about on heavenly clouds whilst watching morphing shapes were said to be the beneficial effects of such bounty.
One wonders whether the current crop of adventurous students will be found, broadsheet newspaper in hand, proclaiming to headteachers up and down the land that their depressive state necessitated the use of this medicinal foodtype!
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