Before I Die
Posted by: thebabywebsite on: July 6, 2009
I just read one of my 16 year old daughter’s books – ‘Before I Die’ by Jenny Downham.
Talk about traumatic! My mascara was everywhere by the end of the book. The book is about a teenager who is dying of leukaemia and has a sort of ‘Bucket List’ – a list of things she wants to do before she dies.
It’s a very uplifting book and raises many issues about how we deal with death. The girl in question has a 10 year old brother and some of the questions he has about his sister’s imminent death are at the same time funny and immensely sad.
There’s a programme on TV tonight called ‘Teenagers Fighting Cancer’ and I can imagine that many of the teenagers featuring will be going through similar emotions to Tessa in ‘Before I Die’.
I don’t want to spoil the book by going into any more detail but try and have a read of it sometime.
It’s all about seizing the moment and celebrating life while you’ve got the chance. I’ve always wondered how I would react if I or one of the people close to me were diagnosed with a terminal disease, well this book takes you through the reactions of mother, father, brother, best friend, boyfriend and even the morbid curiosity of school friends.
It’s well worth reading this Random House book but make sure you’ve got a box of tissues handy!
Is this the end?
Posted by: thebabywebsite on: June 26, 2009
If I had to produce a list of ten of the WORST products ever invented and manufactured, you would think that ground-breaking white elephants such as the Sinclair C5, the Ronco Buttoneer, and even various in-car Sat Navs and such would be up there. There have been some absolutely atrocious machines and devices launched into the consumer world over the last few decades, but my own experiences over the last six months have demonstrated that one particular item stands head and shoulders above all others. This is not because it doesn’t fulfil its original designated purpose but because of the profound destructive and demoralising effect it can have on the close friends and family of its owner.
This device can cause seismic shifts in behavioural patterns; can turn mild-mannered, rational individuals into slavering monsters; can instil sheer dread into their nearest and dearest every time they so much as pick it up from a coffee table. It breeds terror – sheer terror – into the hearts of those who are unlucky enough to be within earshot of the owner or user.
Imagine the initial irritation, the mild discomfort and the secondary mental symptoms that a parent who has just bought their four-year-old son his first set of toy drums experiences. Now multiply that by ten and you might start to understand the severe consequences this item has on the family’s well-being.
The most mild-mannered of other-halves would consider either suicide or worse still after living in the same home as an owner for more than a month. Family days out and holidays can become as stressful as an Ikea checkout when this item is taken along. What would have been a focus of one’s love and attention suddenly becomes a focus for venting of an anger so profuse that grown men have been known to cower in a dark corner to escape such wrath.
However, I must now point out that this product has a totally gender-variant effect. I bravely picked up and used this item myself not long after it appeared on the scene and guess what! I was impressed. I was actually very attracted to its intuitive interface. I was amazed that so much clever technology could be packed into such a small box. Ground-breaking technology like this doesn’t appear very often. I watched the short instructional video that accompanies this devilish satan-machine and was aghast at how brilliant the functions it offered were.
Why then does it, and can it, have such a profound effect on domestic bliss? I think the answer lies in compatibility – similar to the same way that Sickle-cell anaemia only affects certain ethnic sections of human society. It was designed wholly and perhaps who knows, even perversely, to be completely and utterly incompatible with a female variant of homo-sapiens. Women’s brains work differently to men’s. We all know and accept that. What the manufacturer has succeeded in doing here is exploiting a glitch or bug in the brain of the female that could result in the complete decimation of the human race. Introduce this technological virus into the female branch of human society and its poison will infiltrate and parasitically destroy the male and infant counterparts slowly and progressively.
And what, you all wonder, is this evil machine? In the words of the pioneering Steve Jobs:
“It’s three devices in one!
iPhone is more than just a phone. It combines three devices in one: a revolutionary mobile phone, a widescreen iPod, and a breakthrough Internet device. All that and more makes it the best phone you’ll ever use.”
He forgot or failed to append the all important fourth… “A devious, evil, anti-human, infiltrating, civilization-wrecking bacteria infiltrated via womankind.”
Apple announces their latest updates for the iphone 3G this week. We can hardly wait!
N.
Bravo Bravissimo
Posted by: thebabywebsite on: June 8, 2009
Buying bras has never been easier! Until I chanced upon Bravissimo in Cardiff one day, buying bras was a pretty hit and miss affair.
I’d get the ‘bra lady’ to measure me in M&S occasionally and then shut myself away in a changing room with about a dozen bra before coming out and buying the one that fitted best which was usually the one that looked the least attractive!
Having breastfed a veritable tribe of children at various points in the dim and distant, and also having aged (as you do!), not all bras suited me. 34DD on a 20 year old is not the same as 34DD on a 46 year old! It really was getting harder and harder to find a bra that looked good and made me look good.
But I swear Bravissimo have returned my boobs to their former glory! I don’t know how they do it, but they work out what size you are ‘by eye’! I was told I was a 34F and had been buying the wrong size bra for years. (Apparently the vast majority of women in the UK are wearing the wrong size bra and it’s true that buying the right size and right style bra for your boobs makes a massive difference.)
I’ve bought a few bras from them now and for the first time in my life I also bought a bikini (yes in spite of my stretch marks) which fitted me and I’ve treated myself to some strappy Summer tops with built-in bras so I don’t have those nasty bra straps on display all the time.
Bravissimo has got to be the ‘find of my life’ and I won’t be wasting any more time doing the M&S bra run again.
K.
Plumbing the Depths
Posted by: thebabywebsite on: May 27, 2009
What is it about plumbers? Are they a different species to the rest of us? It’s not that I dislike them as people. I’ve met some really nice blokes who work as plumbers and they’re nice as pie, but for some reason, whenever the idea of hiring their services raises its ugly head, the hairs on the back of my neck bristle even before the conversation begins. What it all boils down to is “Why do they all charge so much?”
I’ve done a fair bit of plumbing in my time, having almost single-handedly renovated a nineteenth-century farmhouse that was on its last legs a few years back. I am perfectly competent with a blowlamp, end-feed, compression fittings, push-fit, ptfe, bottle traps, isolation valves etc.etc. However, being the law-abiding citizen I am, I still employ the services of a plumber when it comes to Gas.
We had a quote yesterday to replace our ageing Glowworm central heating boiler. It has given 37 years of sterling service, but I’m sure it is now pumping more heat into the atmosphere than it is into our house, so being summer, and having anticipated the expenditure for some time now, we have decided to take the plunge and replace it with something a little more efficient. Initial checks confirm that pipework is all according to current regulations regarding diameter and pipe runs from meter to boiler.
Task list:
1. Isolate gas supply
2. Drain-down primary system to allow disconnection
3. Disconnect 2 water pipes, 1 gas pipe and 1 electrical supply
4. Loosen flue collar and remove flue pipe
5. Remove old boiler from wall mount and remove mount frame
6. Mark-up wall for new boiler mount
7. Drill and hang new boiler mount
8. Extend/shorten/re-route existing water and gas pipes to fit new boiler
9. Hang new boiler
10. Connect 2 water pipes, 1 gas pipe and mains supply cable and one condensate drain pipe
11. Trim new flue to appropriate length and connect at appropriate angle to horizontal
12. Fill, treat and bleed primary water circuit
13. Reinstate gas supply
14. Leak-check water and gas connections
15. Electrically bond all incoming pipework
16. Function test and adjust cycle time
17. Fill in GasSafe appliance registration form and post to register
18. Make good masonry around flue
My best estimation would be around 3-4 hours if done single-handedly, maybe even 5 if a few stubborn bolts and fittings were found. No conversion to a Combi circuit, no changes of pipework, no relocation, just disconnect boiler 1 and connect boiler 2 in the same place.
So why, oh why were we quoted over £500 for labour alone? Are we the stupid ones here for not accepting the fact that a plumber should be paid more pro-rata than our prime minister? I think it is because I’m not a virgin when it ccomes to some of the ‘trades’, being confident in most DIY tasks myself.
I therefore resent paying someone who has “THE RIGHT” to carry out what are essentially quite straightforward tasks, but which ‘for safety’s sake’ have to be done by them so that someone can be blamed if things go wrong. I am just as capable of reading all the appropriate regulation and browsing through the myriad of ‘best practice’ advice and carrying the post-work checks as any plumber out there, but because I’m not a member of the Elite, I’m not allowed to do anything.
Perhaps it’s a case of ‘More Fool Me’ for not being a plumber myself. I actually even considered it as an option myself on one occasion, but when I began to realise the level of public resentment at their universal rip-off culture, I decided that my dignity was more important to me. Im more proud than greedy unfortunately. I know this rant won’t change any plumbers’ ways, as it is so institutionalised now, but if one more Mercedes-driving smart-arse of a plumber tries to quote me labour rates of over £100 per hour, I’ll stick my own blowlamp where the lower explosive limit is nigh-on critical and I’ll make sure it’s thoroughly fluxed first!
Come on guys! I welcome a comment from any plumbers out there who can honestly put their hands on their heart and say that they charge a fair hourly rate for the work they do. You might even get some work out of me in the future.
N.
Scotland the Brave
Posted by: thebabywebsite on: April 29, 2009
We’ve ventured north of the border on a couple of occasions in the last six months. Perhaps we’re getting to like the place. Who knows!
Last week saw us at The Scottish Baby Show at the SECC in Glasgow, where we stood for three days bedecked in all our finest regalia and interacted with the many thousands of visitors. I like to think we did well. There was loads of interest, lots of people came over to chat and ask questions and of course to take advantage of the little freebies we were giving out.
But do you know what the best thing about it all was? The people themselves! What a lovely bunch of bods the Scottish contingent is! We’ve done similar shows in various other parts of the UK over the last couple of years, and I can say without doubt that the Glasgow event is the friendliest and most enjoyable of them all.
Hearsay has it that the Scots are a dour bunch; miserable as sin, they say! I’m sure there must be some who fit that mould, but we didn’t find them last weekend. We found loads of happy, friendly, affable, smiling people who shared our jokes, smiled when we talked to them, were polite and courteous and they made the whole event an absolute pleasure for us.
I have an old friend from years gone by, Bill, who hails from the great Kingdom of Fife. He was at our wedding bash and we try our best to meet up at least once a year to ‘swing the lamp’ or whatever it is that old friends do. He always said that his fellow countrymen (he didn’t quite phrase it in that way) were a friendly bunch of souls, but it had been so hard to really find out the details due to his almost incomprehensible accent, or should I say dialect, as accent is far too mild a term. I often laugh at Mrs C when he speaks to her because I know for a fact that only about 20% of what he says is actually registering. However she continues to nod, smile, laugh occasionally and promote continued conversation. None of that was necessary last weekend though, she must be learning through experience.
What were the negatives? Almost certainly the 15 hours on the road to get there and back. It’s a long old drag from Cardiff to Glasgow, but we had the use of a magnificent piece of automotive beauty in the form of one of those Octavia VRS Estate machines from Skoda. Forget their history of the seventies and eighties. This was some piece of kit, I assure you! Quiet, comfortable, blisteringly fast and as thrifty as Scrooge, managing almost six hundred miles from one tank. I was well impressed!
However it’s all over now. We’re back in the office, soldiering away. It seems the more we do, the more needs to be done too. It keeps us on our toes though and life would be dull otherwise.
I have to conclude with reference to a couple of our site ‘regulars’ who came to see us. (You know who you are!) Many thanks for the charitable donation, and it’s a shame the old pink jumper didn’t make a show, but I’ll remember the moist muffin for years, not because it tasted delicious, but when you put your fingers into it, it was so fresh that it seemed such a shame that it had to be eaten.
The mind absolutely boggles over!
N.
Champagne and EuroStar
Posted by: thebabywebsite on: April 8, 2009
A few weekends ago we went off to Bruges for a weekend combining business with pleasure. After a stressful National Express coach journey down to London from Cardiff , we eventually arrived in St Pancras. Stressful, I hasten to add, for iPhone reasons and no other. The coach was comfy and the ticket was unfeasibly cheap but my horrendous iPhone meant I was able to receive emails and view the site and hence be kept up-to-date with any issues but because of the inflexibility of the browser and the ridiculous touch-screen which only occasionally works, it was nigh on impossible to do anything to the site and/or resolve any of the afore-mentioned ‘issues’!
Sending texts and emails is such a chore on the stupid flippin’ iPhone. I absolutely hate it with a vengeance….
Anyway back to St Pancras… Last time we went to Brussels with EuroStar we had intended to visit the world-famous Champagne Bar and indulge ourselves a little with our faourite tipple. However The London Underground didn’t want to ‘play ball’ on that day and so we had no time.
This time, we deliberately chose to arrive in St Pancras a couple of hours early so that we could ‘do the Champagne Bar’. The station itself is amazing and the atmosphere in the covered areas is quite unique. We were shown to a table right alongside the track that our Brussels train was parked at and were shown the controls for the heated seats and where the blankets were, should we need them. After having a good look through their very extensive (or was it expensive?) menu and wine list we plummed for a couple of glasses of the bubbly, half a dozen fresh oysters and some marinated olives. Such decadence, I know, but every word has its place in the dictionary and decadence had its place in our social agenda on this occasion! It was heavenly! The Champagne was delicious, the oysters took him to the ocean and back (oysters aren’t my ‘cup of tea’), and the olives – well, they were very…. ‘nice’ olives. All in all, the stresses accumulated in the previous few hours were washed away and we embarked on the rest of our journey, seeing the world through much rosier tints.
It all beats the hassles of Heathrow and stresses of Stanstead, loitering at Luton and the Gatwick grind! Let the train take the strain and you’ll feel better for it.
Venus and Mars
Posted by: thebabywebsite on: April 8, 2009
Had a joke from Suzi at Cuski in my Inbox this morning which although VERY FUNNY got me thinking about how different men and women are. Read the joke below and you’ll see what I mean.
K xx
Sid (Or is it Sir Alan)’s Apprentices
Posted by: thebabywebsite on: March 26, 2009
It’s been a long time since our ‘tribe’ was unanimous in its desire to sit down together in front of a single TV programme. However, last night heralded the arrival of 2009’s rendition of Sid James’s “The Apprentice”.
It’s gripping and yet intensely infuriating at the same time.
wishy-washy
Men of my age, though generally mild-mannered (even Mrs C will back that up! ) are driven to the point of absolute rage by that bunch of self-centred, gangly wannabes. I felt myself wanting to get onto my feet and shout at the screen when four supposedly aspirational high-flyers were trying to wash a car. I mean for heaven’s sake, what hope does this country have if this is the creme de la creme?
Were we ever that bad? Did our attitudes ever scour the same depths that theirs do?
I endorse entrepreneurial spirit wholeheartedly, and to repeatedly refer to these people as entrepreneurs is a travesty! If they are entrepreneurs, why on earth do they want to work for Sid and not themselves anyway?
The most entertaining part of the whole programme is Nick and Margaret, who never fail to make me smile with their dry wit and beautifully cutting one-liners.
I remember clearly those days when I was in a managerial position of authority and seeing what I saw last night, I would have taken great pleasure in pointing out some of the errors of their ways in my most un-subtle manner. However, I now work for myself and I neither have to boss anyone around nor have to be bossed, so I’ll keep my nose out.
Can’t wait to bellow abuse at them next week now. Wish me luck?
N 
A Clean (horizontal) Sweep
Posted by: thebabywebsite on: March 19, 2009
Freed from the wrath of the dreaded Norovirus, as described previously, we re-embark on life’s great passage.
Helped along by the obvious arrival of Spring, with its bright sunshine and irritating hum of strimmer, hedge clipper and lawnmower, the inevitable ’spring cleaning’ regime starts to rear its ugly head. Bouquets of bleach and limescale remover fill the air; detergents are poured into sink and bath plugholes that have been clogged with 2ft long hairs – thousands of them – for months and sticky stains that have haunted far corners of the kitchen floor have been attacked with a dose of Flash and hot water. I was even tempted at one point to reduce the height of what was once described as my ‘in-tray’. But how can you run a successful business having nothing in the intray? What would you have to do then? I am a staunch believer in the use of a hardback book. Little chits of paper are far too easily misplaced or overwritten, but if it’s written in the big book, it won’t get lost, and as any absence of a ‘job done’ tick stands out like a sore thumb, it is fairly watertight. Why then, do I forget to write things in it, I wonder?
Years ago my own productivity seemed to be directly proportional to the amount of pressure I was under. Deadlines were tonics and life-or-death decisions were run of the mill. Where did it all change? There’s still pressure of course. Life would be dull without it. But I think my advancing years are making me into a bit of an old cynic. I look at some people doing the blue-arsed fly thing and wonder if I ever did that. Time has taught me that virtually nothing is worth getting into that much of a sweat about.
Poor Mrs C has heralded in the arrival of our warm Spring weather with what is a direct consequence of the aforementioned cleaning bug. On a freshly cleaned bathroom floor, that strangest of phenomena – horizontal gravity – got the better of her again, whipping her legs from under her and throwing her at great force into the door edge, producing a most artistic tattoo, with blends of black, blue, green, purple and yellow on her left bicep. At least it’s narrowed down the choice of Spring attire available, as vest tops and short sleeves tend to clash terribly with the vibrant colours of the tattoo.
All is not lost though… daughter No1 is home from Uni for her easter break, so she’ll be actively looking for activities to fill her time for the next few weeks (won’t she?) and once the others finish for Easter we’ll be scratching our heads finding tasks and chores for them all – …….. I wish! Our abode will positively gleam from all the attention it’s inevitably going to receive. We’ll see!
Off to clear a bit of space to put my wine glass down on now, before the ‘experts’ change their minds again. This week is a “Wine is Healthy” week, isn’t it? Or was that last week?
Nigel
Letting it all flood out
Posted by: thebabywebsite on: March 10, 2009
One thing we’ve always been very aware of, having five kids in tow, is how easily germs and other ‘lurgy’ can find their way from classroom to living room. It has become almost part of the yearly routine when they all head off back to the confines of their classes after a long summer break to share stories, experiences and of course all the new germs they have encountered during their travels. Last year we got off lightly with little more than a scratchy throat which lasted only a few days.
This week, however, heralds the onset of something far more sinister. A few days ago rumours started about one of the local primary schools having high absences because of a ‘tummy bug’. A couple of days later, most of the school were off with this ‘tummy bug’. Now the school has been completely closed. The reason – Norovirus!
This particular primary school is in the same catchment area as the much larger Comprehensive school nearby.
Am I being a little over-critical in my assessment here, or are my more mature years making me somewhat paranoid? But bearing in mind the number of younger brothers and sisters from the neighbouring primary school, and the need to already send home some students who have already shown symptoms of the virus, is this not simply a ticking bomb? I do have a certain knowledge on such matters including epidemiology and human health and disease, and I know that an environment such as a large secondary school must surely be an ideal breeding ground for such a virus. Is the inevitable being awaited or will the school escape the wrath of hordes of puking, incontinent teenagers?
Two of those aforementioned teenagers live with us. Now we’ve personally laid down the law very thickly… wash hands, clean towels every 5 mins, disinfect handles and surfaces, no licking the toilet seat etc. all the usual stuff. But, I’m still worried that this beasty will take a hold tomorrow or the day after and ruin our weekend. Yes, losing a bit of weight is always desirable, but not that way – please!
Just in case (sounds familiar, doesn’t it… last week’s silly names?) we’ll do a bulk buy loo-roll trip and make sure that we have everything that we might need to stop the potential ruin of the weekend. However, what would you do? Would your hunch be to keep them away from this breeding ground of all things foul or would you throw caution to the wind and keep them going there in the vain hope that they are less favoured by the beasty and that they’ll pull through unscathed?
Nigel.
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