Tag Archives: travel

Whirlwind

I’ve walked like I was shot in the arse today, it’s not a great look let me tell you.

race for life 2013

race for life 2013

It has been a jam-packed few weeks and I’ve absolutely loved having some of my nearest and dearest around more often, especially while Geordie is away. I’ve travelled down to Devon and Cornwall (fell in love with Bideford fish and chips and Padstow beach) and back up again to Whitby (I’m still too terrified to go back into the Dracula experience). I’ve been to watch moto gp track training, I’ve sewn ball gowns and of course I have eaten way too much cake to even think about losing any weight for ‘Summer’ (whatever that is?) I’ve shared the momentous occasion that was Baby Isaac’s Christening (you remember my cake eating partner in crime Rachel…well her son Isaac, who will also grow to adore cake) which was a 9.5 hour bouncy castle-fest. The sun shone for the gorgeous little one on his special day and a good time was had by all.

Yesterday I ran the Race For Life 5k in memory of my lovely friend Rebecca, support of my wonderful school friend Emma and in hope for a healthy future for Fraja and my own two beautiful little girls. My mind was set on taking off and sprinting the course, Paula Radcliffe style, while my ever supportive running partner Danielle had a more realistic approach and pondered whether to carry her phone to take a picture for if/when I fell over! I had so much fun doing comedy power lunges and moshing during the warm up, as we made the most of being child free for an hour or so. We made a point of high-fiving a bunch of kids and a few marshals which ultimately lost us valuable seconds at the finish and has cost me the use of my legs for the last 24 hours. Unfortunately the sun was blazing at the start (that’s my official excuse) and I limped around in 31:02, greeted at the finish line by my eldest with these pride filled words…… ‘Aww Mum I thought you were gonna win it?’

Lessons I have learned in the last few weeks are as follows;

Always do the warm up and take it seriously instead of taking self portraits impersonating Sonja-from-Eastenders’ fitness dvd.

Do not get a stomach bug the morning of the six-hour car journey home from Devon….

Always have nappy bags in the car (for vomiting into) should the above situation arise.

Mini Pizzas are the best sustenance at a Christening…..all 9.5 hours of it…just keep eating and you will not get drunk….much.

And above all else, surround yourself with lovely people who make you laugh so much your stomach hurts, eat cake and be happy. Life is too short.

 

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Thursday’s Child

I was born on a Thursday and according to the traditional rhyme that makes me one of the cool kids, not the whiny, or overly polite or hard-working ones, a cool one! The story goes that it was 104 degrees that particular November day and my Mum was stuffing her face with melon when I decided I would make my journey into the big wide world. No no, she’d not had too much gas and air, I was born abroad and as luck would have it, being mahoosively pregnant during Winter south of the equator means kaftans, Birkenstocks and a shed load of ice!

Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesdays child is full of woe,
Thursdays child has far to go,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay

It could have been a lot worse, I could have been born early and risked being the sulky Wednesday kid, or just over the cusp of Midnight resulting in Friday’s loving and giving (code for clingy and dependant). So a big thumbs up to mother nature for getting the timing spot on. I wouldn’t have minded being a Sunday’s child, bonny, blithe, good and gay sounds like the kind who just walks into success doesn’t it? Good-looking, but doesn’t know it, fair and honest and the happiest kid around. I like you Sunday’s child, you’re cool too!

Thursday’s child has far to go. I have moved home 24 times, I have lived on two continents (okay not that impressive but I know what Dover port and Heathrow airport look like) I’ve lived in three countries and travelled to a hell of a lot more, I think that living up to the Thursday’s child expectations is going well, but there is still father to go! I have such aspirations about travelling and seeing the world, there is just so much out there that has to be seen to be believed. I wrote an entire blog about my bucket list (you can read it here) and the majority of it involves travel, I simply have to get to Niagara Falls before I cark it. So what about Thursday’s adult, maybe time to make up a new rhyme?

Okay look, I’m just joking around and don’t really believe that anyone can be defined by a daft nursery rhyme, I mean, I grew up thinking Humpty Dumpty was an egg, but where in the rhyme does it say that? Poor misunderstood Humpty, maybe he was just big-boned?

PS, Sorry Wednesday sulky kids x

 

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The Climb

I think I am actually starting to lose my marbles you know!? I can hear the voice inside my head (It has a Scottish accent?) telling me that I’m not actually in control of anything that’s going on in my life. Let’s start at the beginning…

My kids decide what time I get up, usually pre-6am thanks to their unforgiving skill of making it through the day unscathed on less than 7 hours sleep. Geordie needs a high protein lunch ready for work by 7:15am. Yes, he can do this himself but as he will ask me every minute detail about what he needs to do (What can I have tuna with? How long does pasta take? How do I cook porridge?) it’s easier to just do it myself. The kids/monsters must be fed before 8am, similar repercussions of a Gremlin if this timetable is overlooked, the dog needs to be fed and walked and all of this is before 9am. Somewhere within all the chaos I should eat something, shower, get dressed and breathe.

Postman Pat

Postman Pat (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Tomorrow is going to be different, I am having a day all to myself. I am going for a consultation with a surgeon/magician who is going to fix my back once and for all. This is going to be a monumental day for me and my 7 month relationship with my broken spinal disc, he’s totally getting me down, suffocating my hopes and dreams so I’m calling it off. Ordinarily Geordie would drive me to the hospital which is about 50 minutes away, however I am going to take the Postman Pat bus that takes….wait for it……2 hours 14 minutes to get even close to the hospital. I will see the lovely surgeon/wizard and then happily skip back down to the bus stop and take the return journey through the wandering dry stone walled lanes of deepest darkest Cumbria, arriving home way past dinner time.

I need to switch off from being a wife/mum, most of the time just half an hour to sit and watch Eastenders or walk the dog with my ipod set to ‘blaring’ without thinking about changing the baby, or washing uniforms, is enough for me. I absolutely adore my girls and Geordie but I don’t think I would be human if I didn’t need some Me time just a couple of times a month? My friend Caz throws all her energies into Boxercise and climbing bloody big mountains as her way of chilling out from her busy schedule to a mum of four. Another friend dedicates one evening a week to staring at naked people, oh sorry I mean life drawing classes (Which involves staring at naked people) and reliably informs me she strolls home feeling thoroughly relaxed and much more confident about her aging body shape!

So in short, I have decided to sit on a public bus for approximately four hours tomorrow for the sake of being left well alone with my ipod, my kindle and a packet of Minstrels that I’ve managed to hide from Geordie for the last three days behind the biscuit tin in the cupboard. Can I get a whoop?

 

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