Normal Service Will Not Be Resumed ...

I couldn’t sleep last night.

And not because I was worrying about the animals in the rain or the homeless people on the streets - I regularly toss and turn with such issues on my mind!

It may sound daft to you (and indeed amuses my friends) but things like this concern me and I feel a bit of a rant brewing.  It will be short and sweet but I feel the need to offload.

Next year (April 4^th, I believe) TV broadcasting will be going exclusively digital.  “What’s so wrong with that?”, I hear you ask.  Technology, moving forward, crisp pictures with endless channels.

Well, I’m worried.

What about all those old people, just about surviving on a pension, still watching a huge-backed monster of a TV that they’ve had for some thirty odd years because it just never dies?  What if they have no means to upgrade?

This could be their only source of company during the day and the long nights.  They might well be watching the ads, which inform us of next year’s change, and not even understand the implications.  What if they have no one to ask?  Of course, the ads helpfully suggest they can go online for more information … get the picture?  Well, they won’t, literally.

We can’t assume everyone has 42-inch flat plasma screens, Sky, cable and the likes.  Many elderly people can’t get their heads around the new technology and prefer to stick to just the channels they know.  My mother has a constant battle navigating her Freeview recorder box and now leaves it to my son to programme.  And this is a pensioner with a close network of family who talk her (patiently) through things - what if she had no one?

It’s not enough to say that most people will be equipped and ready for the changeover.  I’m worried about the ones who won’t - either due to a lack of resources or awareness - as I don’t believe they’re a small minority.

I can’t bear to think of poor old Alf or Betty in their bedsit settling down with their beans on toast, ready to watch Corrie, only to have their lifeline suddenly blink out.

But there’s nothing I can do to help them because I don’t know where they are, these poor old people who’ll get left behind.

Now I’ve really made myself miserable and getting it off my chest has done no good whatsoever.

When insomnia knocks next time, I’m going back to worrying about creatures in the rain.

Diary of a Mummy Misfit is available at Amazon for Kindle.  Now also in paperback at Lulu.

His Tiny Hand

My son set off for his first day of sixth form today - fifteen years old and growing like a mushroom.

How did I get to be the mother of a teenage boy who is now taller then me?  Where did those years go?

From the minute they get sucked into the wheels of the school system, it’s practically a blink of the eye and they’re approaching adulthood.

I look back over his school years with fond memories and treasure every moment, even the bad ones.

I remember …

That first day at nursery - both of us bags of nerves.  He never grew to like it and I would always find him waiting by the window for my return.

Starting school - with faithful penguin, ‘Teeth’ (see older post), stuffed in his book bag for comfort.  ‘Teeth’ went to primary school every single day.

The day he decided that he didn’t think much of this school lark and would sob his heart out every morning.  The solution?  To meet his best friend and nanny, and go through the school gates with them.  If only his problems at secondary school could have been solved so easily.

The evening he came home and said “If they make me write the letter ‘W’ one more time …!”  It was soon after that I had the call to say it would be a wise move to put him up an academic year - he was bored.

The time I had to go to the school because he bit his friend on the finger after getting over-excited in a game!  The teacher actually found it funny, and said that he’d been known to do worse things to a friend himself (!), but obviously had to deal with the situation.

Every play and carol service - he played characters from an ant to a granny (in one of my old nightdresses!).  I can feel the tears in my eyes and the lump in my throat.

The Father’s Day card he brought home which displayed the words ‘Happy Farther’s Day!’

The prize giving ceremonies - poetry, handwriting, cake baking, public speaking.  The proud bits of being a mum.

That gut-wrenching feeling when my mobile would ring and the caller display read ‘School’.  Thankfully it was never life-threatening but my stomach would still drop to my boots.

The sad, sad day he left the security of his prep-school ready to head off to the next chapter in his education.

The even sadder days which followed when he developed school phobia (see older post) and was quite simply unable to get himself through a classroom door.

The joy of knowing that the phobia was finally behind him - three long years later.  Seeing him go to school a happy, confident boy with friends.

The pride of knowing that he took his GCSE’s a year early and, with all the problems he’d encountered, he still did well.

Being a mum (even to one) is one of the most mentally exhausting jobs in the world.  You’re learning as you go and constantly doubting yourself.

But boy, is it worth it.

Most of all I remember his tiny hand in mine and how it’s now bigger than mine.

And I know how my mum must feel.

Read all about being a mum who never feels that she belongs. ‘Diary of a Mummy Misfit’ is on Amazon for Kindle, PC or Smartphone with a free app to download.  Now also available in paperback at Lulu.

Little Boy Lost

I found a child in the park yesterday.

There he was, snot bubbling, blotchy teary eyes, clutching his scooter as he wandered aimlessly around the park café saying “Mummy? …There must be somebody here!”

He was about four and totally terrified.

Other mums looked on - and did nothing.  But were they sharing my thoughts?  Should I get involved?  Would it make me look like a paedophile?  In an age where even female nursery assistants are involved in child abuse, what if the mother suddenly appeared and thought I was trying to grab him?

When he made to leave the balcony area of the café mumbling “I go look for her”, I decided I had to do something.  I wouldn’t be one of those people too weak to step in and take action.

As I did so, you could almost hear the collective sigh of relief from the other mothers.  “Phew, I don’t have to get involved,” it said.

He explained to me that his little brother had been naughty and run away and his mum had gone to look for him.  This meant that she’d obviously return to the café for the ‘Lost One’.

He kept insisting that he go across the park and look for her and I knew this wouldn’t be a good move - it’s a huge park and there was a big charity event going on.  He would have become totally lost or worse.

Through his tears, he kept saying “I don’t know why she’d leave me here!”  It was heartbreaking.  I told him that his mummy hadn’t meant to leave him there and that she’d definitely be back for him soon.  He needed to know that she’d return to the place she’d left him and he must stay put.

Thankfully he held my hand (and relinquished his scooter!) so I knew he wasn’t going to dash off anywhere.

Eventually a frantic mum appeared in the distance, dragging along ‘The Naughty One’. The relief on both mother and son’s faces said it all.  She thanked me and made a hasty retreat, clearly wanting to get home for a stiff G&T.

This event left me questioning why we’re so reluctant to make a move in situations where we know help is needed.  I’m always telling my husband and son never to get involved in ‘have a go hero’ actions.  My advice is always, if you see trouble, move away and call the police.  Your one ‘good citizen’ move could see you with a knife in the back.

But where children are concerned, and the only danger is to them, why are we so tentative?  It would be my worst nightmare to have ever lost my son in a park (never happened, as I’m the No: 1 paranoid mother!) but if I had, I would have hoped that a caring parent would have taken him under their wing and reassured him until we were reunited.

Those mothers who just looked on and then looked away would surely want someone to step in if it were their child?

What would you have done?  Did I do the right thing or should I have turned a blind eye?  A friend’s mother got a good telling off for interfering a few years back - child wasn’t lost, just distraught.  But how was she to know?

To finish on a lighter note, we were stuck in traffic a few days ago and we saw an elderly lady leave McDonald’s with her skirt tucked in her knickers - all on show to the world, she tottered down the high street.  Suddenly a young girl came running out of McD’s and obviously told her of her faux pas - she sheltered her from behind as the old lady sorted herself out.

This simple act restored my faith in human kindness.

It also had me questioning, would I have done the same thing?  Because you just never know if you’re going to be on the receiving end of a black eye for your troubles!

Diary of a Mummy Misfit is available at Amazon for Kindle.  Now also in paperback at Lulu.

Sound the Trumpets (Part Two)

Last month I shared my UK reviews (see post) with you so today I’m thanking my ‘.com’ readers and publishing a selection of their thoughts on ‘Diary of a Mummy Misfit’.

I’ve never been one to brag, but needs must!

Kimmidoll - Captivating page turner!

Congratulations to the author on writing the first book in a long time that I was hesitant to put down (although unfortunately my Mummy Misfit life required that I sneak bits in here and there whenever I could). Diary of a Mummy Misfit is a ‘must read’ book that draws you in by it's colourful characters and entertaining scenarios. This is a story that on more than one occasion had me likening particular events to my own life. The characters are relatable and you will often feel yourself getting caught up in the emotions that they are experiencing - be it anxiety, fear, joy or relief. Reading this book on a Kindle meant that I never really knew how many pages I had left in the book and whilst I wanted to read ahead and find the resolution to each hilarious issue that Libby encountered, I didn't want to reach the end of the book. I quickly felt enveloped into Libby's misfit life and have often found myself wondering what she is up to now. I can highly recommend this book as an entertaining and captivating read.

Jane - Laughs mixed in with real life pen portraits!

I loved ‘Diary of a Mummy Misfit’ and read it practically in one sitting. I was completely transported into Libby's world - the worries of not fitting in; trying to work out who are the real people and who are the fakes; watching the people around tackle with their own life journeys. The organising of the Christmas fete and associated commands from those on high brought back memories of being involved in committees with useless figureheads. I felt Libby's pain and Fenella's rage. Amanda accurately creates the world of private education where the "haves" often consider everyone else to be beneath them and the "have nots", who more often than not are just like us - normal people tackling real world challenges. Yes money does make life a lot easier, but most of us are making ends meet on average incomes and struggling to fit in and look right. (Even if we deny it). Being a complete chick lit addict I can't wait for Amanda's next book! BTW I'm not a mum so will never get to experience the wait at the gate or the boring social evenings. Can't say I'm too upset about that based on ‘Diary of a Mummy Misfit’!

Mike - The crazy world of British Private Education

I came to this after enjoying the frantic ‘May contain nuts’ by John O’Farrell. I polished this off during a pleasant flight to the Sun - Thank you my lovely little Kindle! ‘Diary of a Mummy Misfit’ is a much more anchored, realistic tale of life amongst the Battersea / Fulham set. Lot's of modern cameos - someone will have fun putting this on the screen - all the usual Mumsnet suspects : LK Bennett, Guardian readers, Bankers, Ac-tors, Cath Kidston, Alpha Mummies, Range Rover drivers. Those irreproachably, irredeemably middle class ‘Social Stereotypes’ from the Telegraph.  As a book, it certainly makes you think - why have literally millions given up on Blair's Bog Standard State Schools and Academies in London? Why are more nearly a fifth of all Six formers in Private Education? And what is it about affluence that makes people even more insecure?  Curious that it's only on Kindle - you'd think it would have been a Blog which turned into a Paperback. Maybe there's a ‘Julie and Julia’ style blog somewhere that I don't know about.  Going back to John O’Farrell's book - ‘May contain Nuts’ was an amusing read, and an entertaining TV play, but would have been better without the exam substitution and ultimate conclusion.  ‘Diary of a Mummy Misfit’ is the better book -realistic characters, and better social commentary on those terrifying Schoolgate Mothers. Could have done with some more polishing - think of it as the Yummy Mummy's version of the ‘Manchild’ BBC TV series, but I enjoyed it, and I'm looking forward to Amanda Egan's next book. Conclusion: Ideal holiday or commuter read - for Mumsnet Alpha Mummies and their, almost, patient husbands.

Tara L. - A Kindle Store Gem

I discovered this book while browsing for a holiday read and wasn't disappointed. I hadn't heard of the author, but the storyline appealed and the free download sample was as good as any chick lit I'd read in diary format.  Brought plenty of laughs and the author perceptively sums up some very recognisable types you meet in the vulgar monied set. This isn't wealth bashing, but it makes you question who is richer. Something for everyone - chaotic family life, school gate competitiveness, gays, a cultural mix - all wrapped up in witty and well captured observations.  A definite recommend!! If you like a diary, it's a grown-up Bridget Jones without the snobbery of Rachel Johnson. Should be in paperback.

Laurel Mayer - Funny, Bright & Witty! Loved it!

The diary format of this book serves it so well! Libby's diary reads with such humor and sharp wit that it is impossible to not laugh at her candid remarks about her daily interactions. Libby's diary reflects all the things that one thinks, but doesn't say. There is so much to love about Libby. She doesn't take herself too seriously and her easy personality makes it completely natural to cheer her on as she takes on some rather cold and callous characters. Love the British humor as well as the universal themes that Amanda Egan explores. Overall this is an extremely witty novel from a debut author. Can't wait for the next book!

So there you go - a few more happy readers and a few more reasons why you should buy my book.

‘Diary of a Mummy Misfit’ is available on Amazon UK or Com for Kindle, PC or Smartphone   (you can download a free viewing App for these at the Kindle store).  Now also in paperback at Lulu.

Vocation, Vocation, Vocation ...

I’ve blogged in the past about jobs I’d love to do for a day (see older post) so thought I’d share the five jobs I’d NEVER want to do.

Out of pure nosiness, I’m also tagging some fellow bloggers/writers at the end of this post - the one’s I know will rise to the challenge!

First up …

I could never be a surgeon, doctor, midwife, gynaecologist, vet - in fact any profession which involves flesh, puke, pee, poo or blood.  I just can’t do it.  I only have to see a tiny cut with a few bubbles of blood and my knees start to play up with the ‘wobbles’. The smell of vomit has me instantly retching - and I’m such a baby I still cry when I (rarely) throw up.

Security guard in a shop - now I’m not being snobby here, I’ve worked in enough stores as a Saturday girl in my time and that was boring enough - but how do these guys keep themselves awake?  They stand, often in the same position, for hours on end.  The most exciting thing likely to happen is a quick wander around the store or the thrill of a shoplifter.  I’d like to think that they either go into some kind of Zen-like meditative state or maybe, with all the people-watching they do, are constructing a best-selling novel in their head - ‘I Know What You Did in Aisle Five’

As much as I love animals and I said that I’d do it for a day if I could have my memory erased afterwards, I couldn’t work with rescue animals.  I just wouldn’t be able to sleep in my bed for worrying about them.  My house would become a refuge for all my ‘favourites’ and then I’d worry about the ones I’d left behind.  I even lie in bed some nights when it’s raining and worry about all the creatures that are out there in the storm.  Yes, I’m really that bad!  Hubby knows that I should never be set lose on animals - I’ll often try to bring a ‘stray’ home from the park or I’ll fall in love with a particularly scruffy dog (the best) and be love-sick for days!

With my fear of flying, I don’t think it would be a great idea for me to be part of a cabin crew.  Hey, it would be great for meeting all those fantastic gay guys but I think I’d be fired on my first day for knocking back the bubbly (to calm my nerves!) and screaming hysterically every time we hit the slightest bit of turbulence.  I’m the type of passenger who watches every move and facial expression of the crew.  Why isn’t she smiling?  Why is he looking flustered?  I like to befriend them so that when we’re about to crash, I’m the first to know.  I once became SO close to a lovely gay trolley-dolly that, when he should have been strapped in his seat, he was holding my hand, wiping away my pathetic tears (ear problems) and telling me that if anyone should have been upgraded to First Class, it should have been me!  No, a career in travel is not for me - or the passengers!

I used to say that I’d hate to be a toilet attendant.  Yuck, it’s pee, poo and blood all over again.  I still believe it would be incredibly boring (and smelly) but my opinion changed (just ever so slightly) when I visited Harrods a few weeks back.  As loos go, pretty plush - not the ideal working environment but, if you’re going to work in a bog, it must be one of the best.  I still felt that it would be the most mind-numbingly boring job in the world but … one thing caught my eye.  I saw the amount of money that was handed to the lovely Jamaican lady who greeted everyone with a smile and an offer of designer perfume.  She cleaned, she polished, she sang and had sparkly chat and witty repartee with the piddling ladies.  I’d imagine twenty of our Great British Pounds would have crossed her palm in the time it took me to do my double squirt (wee and Lancôme perfume).  I just hope that Harrods are decent enough to let her keep all the money - she deserves it.

So, that’s my five … over to other great bloggers, my ‘Fabulous Feisty Indies’.

What job would you say “NO” to?

@michellebetham

@Laurel_mayer

Diary of a Mummy Misfit is available at Amazon for Kindle.  Now also in paperback at Lulu.

Return to Sender

Last night I saw that nerve-janglingly irritating advert …

“It’s Mother Nature here, with your monthly gift.”

Oh boy, it’s just as well I’m not suffering from PMT at the moment because the effect that it has on me when I’m ‘normal’ is bad enough - I want to maim someone.

I’ve taken part in many market researches in the past and I quite simply cannot believe that this ad was run past sane, level headed women for approval.

Along with ‘Have a happy period’ the advertising agencies have just got this so wrong.  It can only have been a group of suits who came up with these mad campaigns.

Let’s set the record straight, shall we?  The monthly cycle is neither a gift nor happy.  Would you like to open a beautifully decorated box only to discover a period?  No, I thought not.  And unless delighted not to be pregnant, I don’t know of many women who skip joyfully down the street with a glint in their eye and a song in their heart on the day of its arrival.

Here are the facts:

Periods can be painful.  As a teen the only thing they’re good for is getting off sport.  I once had three in a month!

They can be worrying.  You can spend your life trying not to get pregnant and then when you want to, you can’t.

They mess with your sex-life, your underwear and your moods.

They will always arrive on the day you least want them.  White trousers today?  Oops sorry!

They make you look and feel like a slug.

They make you eat the most ridiculous amount of chocolate.

They don’t just arrive - they take their time.  Agonisingly sore boobs, swollen belly, a zit here, a zit there - NOW I’ll move in for the kill.

Periods cannot and should not be glamorised.  ‘Pearl’ tampons don’t make the whole experience prettier.  I like to wear pearls around my neck and on my ears and don’t want to associate them with monthlies.  Similarly, a zany little leopard skin holder is not a discreet way to carry our ‘needs’ - everybody knows what’s in it! (Funny story here; my son saw one in a charity shop and nearly bought it for me because he thought it was a mini cigarette case!).

Why do these products need to be advertised at all?  It’s not like we have a choice as to whether or not we buy them.  I can honestly say that I have never watched an ad and thought, “Mmm, must give that a go next month.”

I’ll soon be approaching the menopause (another one of your lovely gifts, Mother Nature?) so I will be able to say goodbye to the ‘joy’ you have provided me with month after month since I was thirteen.

Forgive me if I don’t wipe a tear from my eye and look back fondly over my time as a menstruating (what a word!) woman.  But you see, as gifts go, this one stinks.  It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if you’d managed to level the score sheet up and provided the male species with something equally as yucky - and don’t go throwing the “Oh but they have to shave every day” line in - I know some post menopausal women who have to do that as well.

So as my time with ‘Auntie Flo’ draws to its close, the only thing that gives me a real laugh is the day I found out about her.  My mum called me into the kitchen where she was furiously ironing sheets and very matter-of-factly filled me in.  It wasn’t until years later when my two sisters and I were discussing it with her, that we found out she’d used the same ‘distracting ironing technique’ on all of us.

Now, pack your bags and get out of town.

For a peek into my debut novel 'Diary of a Mummy Misfit' (or synopsis at Amazon link to right), view my previous posts 'A Taste of Mummy Misfit' and 'Second Helpings of Mummy Misfit'.  Now also available in paperback at Lulu.

There's no 'U' in Committee

Have you ever been a member of a committee?

I’ve worked on a couple - one for a well known local charity and one for my son’s prep school (this particular one lasted for about five years in total).

They were … how shall I put this? … interesting experiences!

Committees should work as a team.  A collective body of seemingly like-minded people coming together to discuss an objective and to get the job done smoothly and effectively.

Yeah, right!

Maybe I’ve been on some dodgy ones but, from conversations I’ve had with others, I think you can always expect to find ‘the types’ who are more obstructive than useful.

Here are my top ten tips for being a valuable member (and not a tool!)

1. The meeting has not been laid on for your benefit.  No one cares how difficult it’s been to make time for this in your busy schedule.  We don’t want to know about your youngest’s bowel habits or your painful Brazilian.  In short, this is not a platform for you.

2. Only speak if you have something really vital to add to the proceedings.  And then be concise - people have homes to go to and unnecessary comments or repetition really aren’t helpful.

3. If there’s alcohol involved, please try to limit yourself to a couple of glasses.  You might become very passionate about a subject that, in the morning, will mean nothing to you.  It’s a meeting not a party.

4. Don’t sit and constantly brag about, “How things used to work when I was Chair.”  You’re not chair anymore and sometimes a reshuffle can only be a good thing.

5. If you want to use the meeting to moan about every single issue discussed (or some not even on the agenda) and how things should be done differently, maybe it’s time you moved on.  Devil’s Advocate is OK but doing it just to cause mischief is time-wasting.

6. Be prepared to do some actual graft rather than just be a mouthpiece.  And if you commit to a job, do it.  It’s not fair to be a passenger and then bathe in the afterglow of a job well done by someone else.

7. Chucking bucket-loads of money at your cause and bragging about it really won’t make you popular.  You could be doing that from a much quieter and more dignified position.  No one likes a show off.

8. You must have a genuine desire to make a difference. This isn’t a forum to big up your ego or to score social points.

9. Go in with a spirit of compromise rather than get arsey if your ideas aren’t accepted.

10. Be punctual.  It might be socially acceptable to arrive at a party fashionably late but we have a table of people waiting to get down to business and we really don’t care if you’ve made a stunning entrance in this year’s Prada.

Meeting is now adjourned, minutes taken and issues discussed.

Thank you!

Join Libby and Fenella in my debut novel ‘Diary of a Mummy Misfit’ as they encounter the mad world of committees, bitching and botox.  Available at Amazon for Kindle. Now also in paperback at Lulu.