Just when I was about to pop into Wibbling Wools and order a new hat, old Baglady of Northern Ireland pops up and asks how I'm getting on with my ASAP pledge!
Well... there's nothing like one's conscience ringing you on the mobile when you're about to indulge in a new piece of winter headgear as a result of the old one being accidentally ruined in the washing machine. As I stood chatting to Baglady on my phone, I held the old hat in my other hand. Bought from here just a year ago, it was now so small it could only fit a child. But it was the only woolly hat that has suited me (ever), hence, I was on a mission to get it replaced ASAP before the autumn sets in. Now that's really organised in my book!
But my idea of ASAP was not what Baglady had in mind. And buying things as quickly as possible was not the pledge that I'd made back in the summer when she launched her ASAP pledges at Baglady Productions.
No! Those pledges were about living As SUSTAINABLY As Possible. And being conscious of the waste stream that results from manufacturing and the energy used in production and transportation, my pledge then had been to think carefully about everything I bought and whether I actually needed it...i.e. no longer buying anything that I didn't really need, so that the world's resources and our money didn't go to waste.
So, nothing like being caught out eh...on the brink of entering one of my favourite Bury St Edmunds shops to splash some cash on something new. It was just like having my husband turn up at my heel, just as I'm pulling out a credit card.
But at least one thing's for sure, I really did need that scrumptious purple hat especially as the weather was about to get blimmin' chilly! So, I hadn't failed my pledge. And the hat was hand-knitted by someone down the road, with wool that could be repurposed elsewhere and probably just a teabag or two from a knitter's break, which hopefully would have gone into the compost!
Of course don't get me wrong. Baglady isn't some old nag from across the water, who wags her finger at me to make sure that I'm keeping up with the "Greens".
Instead her style is more like a gentle doyenne, often oddly dressed in a sea of carrier bags, preaching not, but kindly offering wisdom and encouragement for anyone who wants to take up more sustainable habits.
I might not have been entirely successful with my original pledge - measured by recently palming off a couple of hardly-worn summer purchases to a couple of good friends. However, having watched the No Impact Man movie recently I seem to have found my groove again and am up for seeing how far I can go with Baglady's ASAP pledge system.
So, I've decided to have a good think about real differences I can make in our little average household and put into practice some ideas that have been buzzing around my head for a wee while.
It shouldn't be hard, especially as there's one particular issue that immediately comes to mind, which is the blimmin' temperature on the homefront. It's only September but it's so chilly indoors that my ears are colder than a penguin's bottom.
But before I automatically crank up the thermostat I know there are certain options to explore to help conserve energy this autumn, like cavity wall insulation for instance.
Exciting isn't it. Let me repeat it again.... cavity wall insulation! Hmmm, it's as interesting as watching paint dry.
Of course neither my husband or I know whether we've got it. And despite it now sounding like an emergency dental treatment, I've never felt the urgency to find out, even though I know you can get grants for it.
So, I'll leave you now while I make a few calls to investigate.
I'd better put my woolly hat on though....I know I'm staying indoors but still, I may be some time!
___________________________________________________________
More information about the ASAP pledge system can be found at www.bagladyproductions.org
Monday, 27 September 2010
Monday, 13 September 2010
No Impact Man and other thoughts
Goodness know how I ended up hosting a Q&A session at the local screening of No Impact Man last week, but it certainly felt like a surreal milestone in what has become a very peculiar period of my life.
Although presented as The Rubbish Diet blogger and billed as a local "expert", for those who don't know, behind the social-media garb I am simply an ordinary housewife still struggling to equate how my family, with its "old world values", fits into this "new world" of peak oil and its need for carbon reduction, ethical consumption and simpler living. As a result, I know some of my friends regard me as a nutter, yet others openly share the same issues or at least an intrigue in the subject matter. And for that I am very much relieved and thankful they were in the audience last week.
For anyone who hasn't seen No Impact Man, in summary, it's a movie about Colin Beavan and his experiment to engage his family in a twelve-month challenge to reduce their impact on the environment, by finding ways to live more sustainably. They don't venture off into the wilds to live in a yurt and raise sheep, but function from a high rise apartment block in New York, commiting themselves to a year of buying nothing except food, switching to local produce, producing zero waste, getting involved with the local community and finally switching off the electricity.
Now that's what I call an extreme lifestyle makeover.
Like other eco-bloggers with extreme sounding projects, Colin Beavan has been highly criticised by many individuals, including some environmental writers who felt that his high profile project went too far in the drive for sustainability, as well as those critics who believed he was meddling with the "American Way" and its diet of consumer growth. One of the ironies of this project is indeed that his wife, Michelle, was a writer for US publication Business Week, which promotes the latest trends in the technology and innovation that help drive the American Way, a point made on-film by one of Beavan's friends. Naturally others have criticised that the sole purpose of the project was simply that Beavan, already an established author, could secure a contract to write another book.
Well, he probably has pushed sustainability further than most families would accept. And yes, his writing really could meddle with the American Way, threatening the happiness of capitalists, but only if everyone did it of course (see first point). And it is true, Colin Beavan did plan to write a book based on his experience.
However, whether you're eco or not, or indeed someone with a grudge that he got a book-deal (and a movie), I wouldn't let any of that get in the way of watching the film and drawing your own conclusions. It is really worth it to debate ways in which you can downsize aspects of No Impact Man to apply to your own lifestyle far away from New York, especially in an age where other practicalities may drive change as opposed to eco flag-flying. Take the impact on their health for instance. By simply changing their diet and cycling more, the family admitted to being much healthier and fitter.
But if you are a green crusader, please don't get absorbed by a pile of guilt should you feel that you haven't done enough by comparision. And don't get uptight in thinking their extreme action may get in the way of the more mainstream green message. Only the few can manage extremism for whatever reasons those may be, and since finishing the No Impact experiment, Colin Beavan and his family, having learned much more about themselves, have ditched the stuff that was too inconvenient but kept the sustainable habits that made a positive difference to their busy city lives.
When I first discovered the No Impact Man blog, in 2008, my own thoughts were that the project was too extreme for my tastes and even now, the extent to which they unplugged from the grid for six months I simply regard as an unecessary step. However, I acknowledge that they ventured out more and took up new activities which they would never have done if they still had the comforts of electricity at home. It shows how in some cases you have to experience "giving up" to enjoy the benefits of "taking up". Even so, that said, I can't quite see any benefits in giving up loo roll, no matter what the argument Colin. Take up recycled toilet paper maybe, but not ditch it all together.
I see Colin Beavan as a "nouveau vert", one of the many people along with My Zero Waste and Fake Plastic Fish who are beginning to actualise their own motivations for modern eco action and openly share their experiences online using the platform that social media gives them - or rather, "us", if I should include my own musings at The Rubbish Diet. Often the "nouveau vert" set themselves challenges and goals that can be openly discussed. They rarely proclaim this is how things should be done, but share their experience in a "By heck, I did it" kind of fashion or a "Well, that didn't quite work did it" type of approach, coupled with knowledge sharing about what does work and why change is important to them.
Aside from the No Impact Man movie and back to the UK, I think Dave Hampton, The Carbon Coach, sums up well the subject of eco-change and the impact it brings. He recognises that change can only come from within and that "happiness increase" and "damage habit reduction" go together. He says it may look slow acting, but change can be joyfully contagious and exponential.
But when faced with guilt that you are not doing enough, or indeed that society isn't doing enough, what then? This can lead to frustration in you and in others and this is a real issue that affects many people. It's all about the discrepancy between the practicalities in becoming more sustainable, the guilt for not doing more and the wish to expand beyond an individual's boundaries. In a Facebook update the other week, Dave Hampton seemed to crack it. And these are his words of wisdom...the same words that I shared with the audience of No Impact Man last week.
You see, you don't need to be an eco-expert to change the world, just a mop and a dishcloth will do at times, in which case I'd better go and find my housewife's apron.
______________________________________________________
Colin Beavan's blog No Impact Man can be found at http://noimpactman.typepad.com/. More information about the movie can be found at http://gonoimpact.dogwoof.com/.
Although presented as The Rubbish Diet blogger and billed as a local "expert", for those who don't know, behind the social-media garb I am simply an ordinary housewife still struggling to equate how my family, with its "old world values", fits into this "new world" of peak oil and its need for carbon reduction, ethical consumption and simpler living. As a result, I know some of my friends regard me as a nutter, yet others openly share the same issues or at least an intrigue in the subject matter. And for that I am very much relieved and thankful they were in the audience last week.
For anyone who hasn't seen No Impact Man, in summary, it's a movie about Colin Beavan and his experiment to engage his family in a twelve-month challenge to reduce their impact on the environment, by finding ways to live more sustainably. They don't venture off into the wilds to live in a yurt and raise sheep, but function from a high rise apartment block in New York, commiting themselves to a year of buying nothing except food, switching to local produce, producing zero waste, getting involved with the local community and finally switching off the electricity.
Now that's what I call an extreme lifestyle makeover.
Like other eco-bloggers with extreme sounding projects, Colin Beavan has been highly criticised by many individuals, including some environmental writers who felt that his high profile project went too far in the drive for sustainability, as well as those critics who believed he was meddling with the "American Way" and its diet of consumer growth. One of the ironies of this project is indeed that his wife, Michelle, was a writer for US publication Business Week, which promotes the latest trends in the technology and innovation that help drive the American Way, a point made on-film by one of Beavan's friends. Naturally others have criticised that the sole purpose of the project was simply that Beavan, already an established author, could secure a contract to write another book.
Well, he probably has pushed sustainability further than most families would accept. And yes, his writing really could meddle with the American Way, threatening the happiness of capitalists, but only if everyone did it of course (see first point). And it is true, Colin Beavan did plan to write a book based on his experience.
However, whether you're eco or not, or indeed someone with a grudge that he got a book-deal (and a movie), I wouldn't let any of that get in the way of watching the film and drawing your own conclusions. It is really worth it to debate ways in which you can downsize aspects of No Impact Man to apply to your own lifestyle far away from New York, especially in an age where other practicalities may drive change as opposed to eco flag-flying. Take the impact on their health for instance. By simply changing their diet and cycling more, the family admitted to being much healthier and fitter.
But if you are a green crusader, please don't get absorbed by a pile of guilt should you feel that you haven't done enough by comparision. And don't get uptight in thinking their extreme action may get in the way of the more mainstream green message. Only the few can manage extremism for whatever reasons those may be, and since finishing the No Impact experiment, Colin Beavan and his family, having learned much more about themselves, have ditched the stuff that was too inconvenient but kept the sustainable habits that made a positive difference to their busy city lives.
When I first discovered the No Impact Man blog, in 2008, my own thoughts were that the project was too extreme for my tastes and even now, the extent to which they unplugged from the grid for six months I simply regard as an unecessary step. However, I acknowledge that they ventured out more and took up new activities which they would never have done if they still had the comforts of electricity at home. It shows how in some cases you have to experience "giving up" to enjoy the benefits of "taking up". Even so, that said, I can't quite see any benefits in giving up loo roll, no matter what the argument Colin. Take up recycled toilet paper maybe, but not ditch it all together.
I see Colin Beavan as a "nouveau vert", one of the many people along with My Zero Waste and Fake Plastic Fish who are beginning to actualise their own motivations for modern eco action and openly share their experiences online using the platform that social media gives them - or rather, "us", if I should include my own musings at The Rubbish Diet. Often the "nouveau vert" set themselves challenges and goals that can be openly discussed. They rarely proclaim this is how things should be done, but share their experience in a "By heck, I did it" kind of fashion or a "Well, that didn't quite work did it" type of approach, coupled with knowledge sharing about what does work and why change is important to them.
Aside from the No Impact Man movie and back to the UK, I think Dave Hampton, The Carbon Coach, sums up well the subject of eco-change and the impact it brings. He recognises that change can only come from within and that "happiness increase" and "damage habit reduction" go together. He says it may look slow acting, but change can be joyfully contagious and exponential.
But when faced with guilt that you are not doing enough, or indeed that society isn't doing enough, what then? This can lead to frustration in you and in others and this is a real issue that affects many people. It's all about the discrepancy between the practicalities in becoming more sustainable, the guilt for not doing more and the wish to expand beyond an individual's boundaries. In a Facebook update the other week, Dave Hampton seemed to crack it. And these are his words of wisdom...the same words that I shared with the audience of No Impact Man last week.
"Please ONLY reduce your personal footprint to the extent it makes you and yours authentically HAPPIER!!! Then STOP doing so!Celebrate and enjoy.Pause and witness - all around you - the scenery going a slightly brighter shade of green - with you.
So now that I've shared that with you, in the hope it lifts any feelings of eco-guilt, I'd better get back to the more important task in hand, which today happens to be washing up and mopping the floors...using my reusuable cloths, chemical-free mop and refillable washing up liquid of course.Repeat as necessary for your ongoing happiness."
You see, you don't need to be an eco-expert to change the world, just a mop and a dishcloth will do at times, in which case I'd better go and find my housewife's apron.
______________________________________________________
Colin Beavan's blog No Impact Man can be found at http://noimpactman.typepad.com/. More information about the movie can be found at http://gonoimpact.dogwoof.com/.
Monday, 26 July 2010
A question of convenience.
It all started with the snow. A blanket of snow covering my car in January.
I waited for it to clear and melt away. It was too cold to go into town anyway, too inconvenient for my liking, especially when we could make do with what we had in the freezer. But when the sun shone and the last crystals had melted away, I hopped back into my usual routine, jumping into the driving seat, turning the key, ready to get going again.
But there was nothing. I may have faintly heard a wimp of a "whirr", however it quickly descended into silence. Not to be thwarted, I locked up the car and popped around the corner to catch the bus.
That evening, my husband gave it the jumpstart it needed and my convenient life was once more in motion, until two weeks later following another snap of cold weather, I was once-more faced with the same scenario, only this time there was no other alternative option, as I was supposed to be visiting a friend who lived about twenty miles away. Instead, I came back indoors, put the kettle on and had a ponder. Was this a problem or an opportunity?
My car obviously had a dodgy battery and I should get it fixed, but one of the reasons it was playing up was that I wasn't using the car enough times or for sufficient distances to charge up the battery in the first place.
In a world where oil depletion matters and sustainability counts, maybe, just maybe this little inconvience could be turned into an experiment of need. So, with a defunct Cannard-mobile, I hung up the keys and started planning, looking for opportunities where I could switch my dependency on four wheels for other alternatives, including my own two feet, the bus that stopped around the corner and the bicycle I kept in the garage.
I knew the bus was convenient for town, leaving every half hour. Even travelling alone, prices were a bit steep compared to parking fees, but cheap when you compare them to car maintenance and running costs. It was just a pity that the last bus into town was at 6pm and the last one out at just 6.15pm and the long walk home was remote and dark.
But I commited myself to the challenge, found convenient car-shares to help with getting my children to after-school clubs that were too far to walk, cycle and weren't on bus routes and my husband juggled his routine to cope with other commitments. Even meetings in remote locations weren't an issue, as all parties involved spoke on the phone instead, cutting out any unnecessary travel or extra time on-site to compensate for lengthy journeys.
The challenge became quite addictive, and as the weeks passed I made a mental notch, congratulating ourselves on how well we were all doing as a one car family...until, it was time for the annual MOT, which I'd forgotten about in the excitement of being car-free for over three months.
Did you hear that? Three whole months. After a lifestyle that was addicted to the convenience of the car, that was pretty damn good going.
But the time had come when I had to take my motoring responsibilities seriously, get the car retaxed and MOT'd and for that I needed to get it to the garage.
I booked the appointment and when the day arrived my husband gave the car a jumpstart. He drove it around, but it was sluggish. Apparently the power steering had locked. The garage recommended not to drive it in such condition, so I called the AA. They gave it another jumpstart and left it running a while. The steering was okay by now but to be on the safe side, the very nice man followed me to the garage.
Three months has been the longest I've gone without driving in the seven years we've lived in Bury St Edmunds and to be behind the wheel of the car again did, I admit, give me a sense of freedom that I realised I'd missed. But even so, I still wondered whether having a usable car might send me back to my old habits.
I was soon to find out. As the phone range that afternoon, it was the garage seeking authorisation to repair certain parts of the car to get it through its MOT. I agreed quite happily as they went down the list, until they reached item 4, the brake discs, which had deteriorated badly....apparently through lack of use!
Lack of bloody use!
Suddenly my martyrdom to single-car ownership diminished into the background as I totted up the bill that I was about to pay for LACK OF USE! Added to that were the many bus tickets that saw me through the cold winter, children included, and their tickets don't come cheap! Where my compensation for ditching the convenience of the car was once a pat on the back and a warm rosy glow, it was now replaced by a bloody huge dent in my bank balance!
In a word, I was mortified. I phoned my husband who had the same relaxing influence as a masseur with a bag of spanners. He just laughed in the same way as when I'd phoned him years ago to tell him that I'd almost been knocked out or indeed killed by an old wardrobe!
He saw the funny side of it, while I could just feel the tears of "guttedness" and shock roll down my cheeks.
Until then, I had actually considered selling the car, but when faced with an £800 MOT bill, it made me think twice. To sell it then would have felt like throwing money down the drain. Despite the joy in the challenge of being car-free for three months, I admit there were some occasions where I missed having the convenience of being able to hop into the car. My eco halo was beginning to slip.
Instead, I decided to swallow my eco pride, welcome the car back to the neighbourhood with a distinct promise that I would never forget what my experience had taught me.
The car does give me freedom of travel that I wouldn't have otherwise and I have learned not to take that for granted. Without it, journeys have to be better planned and more considered in line with relevance and convenience and the latter is something that can be easily dismissed by drivers who automatically hop behind the wheel, nipping anywhere and everywhere they wish, just because a vehicle gives the freedom to do so.
Despite enjoying an automobile that is in full working order, I now no longer consider it to be the first and only option for transport. Even now, I often give a nod in its direction as I head for the bus stop to pop into town. With the summer here, we're back on our bikes and walking is a lot more pleasant too. I still drive it off course, after all I don't want to be stung with a bill for lack of use again! But after a short flurry of regular novelty visits into town, trips are now limited to the odd shopping excursion and visits to friends, doubling up with drop-offs at the recycling point en route or anything else that maximises the needfor the journey.
The convenience of the car, mirrored by the convenience of other alternative forms of transport are certainly things I don't take for granted any more. Being saddle-sore is a real reminder of that fact as are the bruises from the day I accidentally fell into a bus, having being defeated by two heavy bagfulls of market shopping.
I must admit, that particular incident, which was made worse by the accompanying shrieks of my mother, did see me back in the car for the next two weeks, but that was more a question of embarrassment than one of convenience.
I don't call myself an accidental eco-blogger for nothing you know and as I write, I'm still nursing the bruises from my sideways fall during last week's visit to the swimming pool, but that is another story indeed. All I can say on that, is thank goodness I don't have to travel anywhere by water.
This blogpost was written for the Big Green Blog Gathering, which is being hosted by organic gardening writer Emma Cooper at www.coopette.com. More info can be found at her latest post http://coopette.com/blog/big-green-blog-gathering-2010-water-day.
I waited for it to clear and melt away. It was too cold to go into town anyway, too inconvenient for my liking, especially when we could make do with what we had in the freezer. But when the sun shone and the last crystals had melted away, I hopped back into my usual routine, jumping into the driving seat, turning the key, ready to get going again.
But there was nothing. I may have faintly heard a wimp of a "whirr", however it quickly descended into silence. Not to be thwarted, I locked up the car and popped around the corner to catch the bus.
That evening, my husband gave it the jumpstart it needed and my convenient life was once more in motion, until two weeks later following another snap of cold weather, I was once-more faced with the same scenario, only this time there was no other alternative option, as I was supposed to be visiting a friend who lived about twenty miles away. Instead, I came back indoors, put the kettle on and had a ponder. Was this a problem or an opportunity?
My car obviously had a dodgy battery and I should get it fixed, but one of the reasons it was playing up was that I wasn't using the car enough times or for sufficient distances to charge up the battery in the first place.
In a world where oil depletion matters and sustainability counts, maybe, just maybe this little inconvience could be turned into an experiment of need. So, with a defunct Cannard-mobile, I hung up the keys and started planning, looking for opportunities where I could switch my dependency on four wheels for other alternatives, including my own two feet, the bus that stopped around the corner and the bicycle I kept in the garage.
I knew the bus was convenient for town, leaving every half hour. Even travelling alone, prices were a bit steep compared to parking fees, but cheap when you compare them to car maintenance and running costs. It was just a pity that the last bus into town was at 6pm and the last one out at just 6.15pm and the long walk home was remote and dark.
But I commited myself to the challenge, found convenient car-shares to help with getting my children to after-school clubs that were too far to walk, cycle and weren't on bus routes and my husband juggled his routine to cope with other commitments. Even meetings in remote locations weren't an issue, as all parties involved spoke on the phone instead, cutting out any unnecessary travel or extra time on-site to compensate for lengthy journeys.
The challenge became quite addictive, and as the weeks passed I made a mental notch, congratulating ourselves on how well we were all doing as a one car family...until, it was time for the annual MOT, which I'd forgotten about in the excitement of being car-free for over three months.
Did you hear that? Three whole months. After a lifestyle that was addicted to the convenience of the car, that was pretty damn good going.
But the time had come when I had to take my motoring responsibilities seriously, get the car retaxed and MOT'd and for that I needed to get it to the garage.
I booked the appointment and when the day arrived my husband gave the car a jumpstart. He drove it around, but it was sluggish. Apparently the power steering had locked. The garage recommended not to drive it in such condition, so I called the AA. They gave it another jumpstart and left it running a while. The steering was okay by now but to be on the safe side, the very nice man followed me to the garage.
Three months has been the longest I've gone without driving in the seven years we've lived in Bury St Edmunds and to be behind the wheel of the car again did, I admit, give me a sense of freedom that I realised I'd missed. But even so, I still wondered whether having a usable car might send me back to my old habits.
I was soon to find out. As the phone range that afternoon, it was the garage seeking authorisation to repair certain parts of the car to get it through its MOT. I agreed quite happily as they went down the list, until they reached item 4, the brake discs, which had deteriorated badly....apparently through lack of use!
Lack of bloody use!
Suddenly my martyrdom to single-car ownership diminished into the background as I totted up the bill that I was about to pay for LACK OF USE! Added to that were the many bus tickets that saw me through the cold winter, children included, and their tickets don't come cheap! Where my compensation for ditching the convenience of the car was once a pat on the back and a warm rosy glow, it was now replaced by a bloody huge dent in my bank balance!
In a word, I was mortified. I phoned my husband who had the same relaxing influence as a masseur with a bag of spanners. He just laughed in the same way as when I'd phoned him years ago to tell him that I'd almost been knocked out or indeed killed by an old wardrobe!
He saw the funny side of it, while I could just feel the tears of "guttedness" and shock roll down my cheeks.
Until then, I had actually considered selling the car, but when faced with an £800 MOT bill, it made me think twice. To sell it then would have felt like throwing money down the drain. Despite the joy in the challenge of being car-free for three months, I admit there were some occasions where I missed having the convenience of being able to hop into the car. My eco halo was beginning to slip.
Instead, I decided to swallow my eco pride, welcome the car back to the neighbourhood with a distinct promise that I would never forget what my experience had taught me.
The car does give me freedom of travel that I wouldn't have otherwise and I have learned not to take that for granted. Without it, journeys have to be better planned and more considered in line with relevance and convenience and the latter is something that can be easily dismissed by drivers who automatically hop behind the wheel, nipping anywhere and everywhere they wish, just because a vehicle gives the freedom to do so.
Despite enjoying an automobile that is in full working order, I now no longer consider it to be the first and only option for transport. Even now, I often give a nod in its direction as I head for the bus stop to pop into town. With the summer here, we're back on our bikes and walking is a lot more pleasant too. I still drive it off course, after all I don't want to be stung with a bill for lack of use again! But after a short flurry of regular novelty visits into town, trips are now limited to the odd shopping excursion and visits to friends, doubling up with drop-offs at the recycling point en route or anything else that maximises the needfor the journey.
The convenience of the car, mirrored by the convenience of other alternative forms of transport are certainly things I don't take for granted any more. Being saddle-sore is a real reminder of that fact as are the bruises from the day I accidentally fell into a bus, having being defeated by two heavy bagfulls of market shopping.
I must admit, that particular incident, which was made worse by the accompanying shrieks of my mother, did see me back in the car for the next two weeks, but that was more a question of embarrassment than one of convenience.
I don't call myself an accidental eco-blogger for nothing you know and as I write, I'm still nursing the bruises from my sideways fall during last week's visit to the swimming pool, but that is another story indeed. All I can say on that, is thank goodness I don't have to travel anywhere by water.
_________________________________________
This blogpost was written for the Big Green Blog Gathering, which is being hosted by organic gardening writer Emma Cooper at www.coopette.com. More info can be found at her latest post http://coopette.com/blog/big-green-blog-gathering-2010-water-day.
Thursday, 22 July 2010
I'm bored and that's not fair!
Oh no, not me, but the two bundles of testosterone that I will be picking up from school later ready to embark on six weeks of school holidays...all based at home in lovely Suffolk.
Already this week alone I've heard those particular utterences of discontent many times over and they haven't even finished school. With six weeks ahead of us I need a plan, otherwise I'll be joining in myself and that's not fair at all is it.
So I'm iniitiating the equivalent of a "Swear Box" for the whole summer and every time either boy mumbles those familiar phrases, they will have to donate 20p pocket money into my collection box....yes MY collection box....all for me...
Now hang on a mo...[scratches head and develops evil grin] this could be a nice little earner if I play my cards right. And the key is in planning the right kind of activities to fill the holiday.
So what do you think about a daily routine of shoe polishing, or even floor polishing, washing up, dusting, weeding, cleaning out the car, sorting out the chicken poo...oh and the lovely task of repainting the fence.
As well as the chance to put my feet up, that should guarantee me a tidy income indeed.
And I might even thow in a trip to the supermarket if they're lucky. Ooooh it's beginning to look like a fruitful summer already and I could even add a few more phrases to the list of things I don't want to hear.
Happy holidays everyone. Hope you have a good one!
Already this week alone I've heard those particular utterences of discontent many times over and they haven't even finished school. With six weeks ahead of us I need a plan, otherwise I'll be joining in myself and that's not fair at all is it.
So I'm iniitiating the equivalent of a "Swear Box" for the whole summer and every time either boy mumbles those familiar phrases, they will have to donate 20p pocket money into my collection box....yes MY collection box....all for me...
Now hang on a mo...[scratches head and develops evil grin] this could be a nice little earner if I play my cards right. And the key is in planning the right kind of activities to fill the holiday.
So what do you think about a daily routine of shoe polishing, or even floor polishing, washing up, dusting, weeding, cleaning out the car, sorting out the chicken poo...oh and the lovely task of repainting the fence.
As well as the chance to put my feet up, that should guarantee me a tidy income indeed.
And I might even thow in a trip to the supermarket if they're lucky. Ooooh it's beginning to look like a fruitful summer already and I could even add a few more phrases to the list of things I don't want to hear.
Happy holidays everyone. Hope you have a good one!
Monday, 19 July 2010
42
So yesterday, I hit 42! It's a funny age you know, a really big one but not huge enough for a major celebration, more like a "yeah right, nothing to see here, move on" kind of birthday.
Now, the thing about 42 is that for fans of the Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy, the number represents the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything as calculated by Deep Thought, a huge supercomputer. Although after seven and a half million years it doesn't yet know the ultimate question.
So in honour of turning 42 this week, I too have come up with some answers, but they're not numbers, more like Cannardisms on my life, my own little universe and a few pieces of everything about me. But like Deep Thought I too haven't worked out the ultimate question.
The problem is, I only managed 21, so in the bid to get to 42 I'd love you to share your own wisdom in the comments below. Here's my list to get you cracking. Everyone can join in, but also I'm tagging a few lovely bloggers including Strawberry Jam Anne, Condo Blues, Jo Beaufoix, The Babbling Mummy, Grumpyoldwoman, Mummydothat and Violet Posy to also dabble in their own moments of Deep Thought.
Anyway, here are my very own Cannardisms to get you rolling...rolling where I don't know, as long as it's not off to the bin.
1. If music be the food of love, let laughter serve up a dessert full of passion.
2. Eccentricity isn't odd, it's just innovation of the mind.
3. "Stop, look & Listen" can help you in more ways than just crossing the road.
4. If you're feeling down, hang up some bunting.
5. If "to be, or not to be" is the million dollar question, you could always phone a friend.
6. Treat your career like a cake. Share your deliciousness with those who'll take the time to appreciate you instead of the greedy buggers who will just gobble you up and want two for the price of one!
7. If there's a hole in your bucket turn it into a plant pot!
8. When it's impossible to outrun your kids, sit back and admire their stamina.
9. You can make anyone smile if you try hard enough.
10. If you don't like your body, admire someone else's.
11. Remember, the only person who can think totally like you is you.
12. To achieve unity, you need to respect diversity
13. Nothing grows without nourishment.
14. Satisfaction comes easy if you appreciate what you've got and know what you want.
15. Football is not a game of two halves, it's a micro-economy of supply and demand.
16. Diamonds are forever and so is glass that's buried in landfill.
17. Kids say the funniest things, so write them down and pen a sitcom!
18. When life goes tits-up, smile and do a moonie!
19. Take time to feel sorry for yourself then stop and show empathy for others.
20. If your seeds don't grow where you planted them, don't give up, just look for a sunnier spot next time.
....and last but not least...
21. Always remember, Christmas is just a date and not a deadline!
Now, the thing about 42 is that for fans of the Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy, the number represents the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything as calculated by Deep Thought, a huge supercomputer. Although after seven and a half million years it doesn't yet know the ultimate question.
So in honour of turning 42 this week, I too have come up with some answers, but they're not numbers, more like Cannardisms on my life, my own little universe and a few pieces of everything about me. But like Deep Thought I too haven't worked out the ultimate question.
The problem is, I only managed 21, so in the bid to get to 42 I'd love you to share your own wisdom in the comments below. Here's my list to get you cracking. Everyone can join in, but also I'm tagging a few lovely bloggers including Strawberry Jam Anne, Condo Blues, Jo Beaufoix, The Babbling Mummy, Grumpyoldwoman, Mummydothat and Violet Posy to also dabble in their own moments of Deep Thought.
Anyway, here are my very own Cannardisms to get you rolling...rolling where I don't know, as long as it's not off to the bin.
1. If music be the food of love, let laughter serve up a dessert full of passion.
2. Eccentricity isn't odd, it's just innovation of the mind.
3. "Stop, look & Listen" can help you in more ways than just crossing the road.
4. If you're feeling down, hang up some bunting.
5. If "to be, or not to be" is the million dollar question, you could always phone a friend.
6. Treat your career like a cake. Share your deliciousness with those who'll take the time to appreciate you instead of the greedy buggers who will just gobble you up and want two for the price of one!
7. If there's a hole in your bucket turn it into a plant pot!
8. When it's impossible to outrun your kids, sit back and admire their stamina.
9. You can make anyone smile if you try hard enough.
10. If you don't like your body, admire someone else's.
11. Remember, the only person who can think totally like you is you.
12. To achieve unity, you need to respect diversity
13. Nothing grows without nourishment.
14. Satisfaction comes easy if you appreciate what you've got and know what you want.
15. Football is not a game of two halves, it's a micro-economy of supply and demand.
16. Diamonds are forever and so is glass that's buried in landfill.
17. Kids say the funniest things, so write them down and pen a sitcom!
18. When life goes tits-up, smile and do a moonie!
19. Take time to feel sorry for yourself then stop and show empathy for others.
20. If your seeds don't grow where you planted them, don't give up, just look for a sunnier spot next time.
....and last but not least...
21. Always remember, Christmas is just a date and not a deadline!
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Five firemen and a blogger
I sat as still as I could behind the steering wheel of the old Rover, staring at the cracked windscreen. The sun was beating down and I could feel the heat searing my skin through the open window.
"It's okay, I'm holding your head," reassured the firefighter sat in the seat behind me. His tight grip made me feel more comfortable. I no longer felt that I was alone.
I could hear noises, unusual clanking sounds and voices that I didn't recognise. Out of the corner of my eye, I was able to make out the crowd that had gathered to watch. I was nervous and it was beginning to feel like a dream.
Unable to turn around, I realised my state of helplessness, stuck in a wreck of a car waiting to be cut out. Apparently I was lucky that the body of the car was intact and that no mechanical parts had protruded through to the footwell.
Against the unfamiliar sounds of breaking metal, the firefighter behind me spoke like an old friend, with warmth and assurance, envoking my trust as he described what was happening. As his colleagues removed the car's bodywork with heavy hydraulic tools, my own body was protected by a blanket and shield. Thanks to the careful commentary I felt safe.
"How many of you are there?" I asked, waiting for clues in his voice so I could picture what he looked like.
"Five," he replied.
I could swear my heart skipped a beat. Suddenly I realised the seriousness of the situation. Five firefighters tasked with ensuring a potential casualty could escape from the car safely and without any life-threatening injury.
My mind started racing, splitting in directions that I could not control. From relief to respect, my emotions bounced backwards and forwards, finally settling on immense awe for these men whom until now I had taken for granted. I was witnessing a precison based human rescue machine in action, not just individuals in professional uniform helping me out of a car but a team working to co-ordinated perfection.
With the roof of the car removed, conditions were now safe to lift me out. I could feel the stiffness of a board that had been inserted behind my back. I closed my eyes as I felt another board push down to the base of my spine.
Very quickly came the command for the initial lift and I felt the first grip on my legs. For a brief moment I held my breath in anticpation. Renewed fear flooded my mind and I squeezed my eyes closed even tighter in denial of what was to come.
"What if they can't lift me?" came the irrational worry coupled with the regret that I'd put on so much weight in recent months.
"For crying out loud, they're bloody firemen. Of course they'll lift you" answered the more rational side of my brain.
My paranoia was suddenly broken by an effiicient but almost embarrassed request to move my knees apart. As I glanced towards the steering wheel, I recognised that unless I did so, my body could be jammed during the lift. The last time I'd received such an awkward request was during childbirth. This latest situation shared the same levels of urgency where the only course of action was to swap dignity for feelings of relief.
And it was seconds from all being over. I closed my eyes once more and in short stages I felt the crew carefully lift my body onto the full length of the board, using their strength combined with gentleness to ease me into a horizontal position, safely and without injury.
It was over! And I was lucky. I quickly rose to my feet to shake hands with each firefighter as they received a round of applause from the spectators nearby.
Yes, I was very lucky indeed. Fortunate not to be a real casualty and honoured to play a part in a situation that I hope is never repeated "for real".
My experience was as a participant in a live demonstration that took place at our local fire station on Saturday and I feel hugely privileged. I'd been nervous beforehand about being trapped in a small space and relinquishing control during the process, but these short 15 minutes proved that I had nothing to worry about at all. And although it felt real, let's face it, being party to a true emergency would have been a whole lot worse.
But in that short time I learned some incredible lessons and gained valuable insight into the work of the men - and of course women - who often put their lives at risk, to save others. I can certainly say that I am now both enlightened and truly grateful. The crew who "rescued" me were totally awesome indeed.
"It's okay, I'm holding your head," reassured the firefighter sat in the seat behind me. His tight grip made me feel more comfortable. I no longer felt that I was alone.
I could hear noises, unusual clanking sounds and voices that I didn't recognise. Out of the corner of my eye, I was able to make out the crowd that had gathered to watch. I was nervous and it was beginning to feel like a dream.
Unable to turn around, I realised my state of helplessness, stuck in a wreck of a car waiting to be cut out. Apparently I was lucky that the body of the car was intact and that no mechanical parts had protruded through to the footwell.
Against the unfamiliar sounds of breaking metal, the firefighter behind me spoke like an old friend, with warmth and assurance, envoking my trust as he described what was happening. As his colleagues removed the car's bodywork with heavy hydraulic tools, my own body was protected by a blanket and shield. Thanks to the careful commentary I felt safe.
"How many of you are there?" I asked, waiting for clues in his voice so I could picture what he looked like.
"Five," he replied.
I could swear my heart skipped a beat. Suddenly I realised the seriousness of the situation. Five firefighters tasked with ensuring a potential casualty could escape from the car safely and without any life-threatening injury.
My mind started racing, splitting in directions that I could not control. From relief to respect, my emotions bounced backwards and forwards, finally settling on immense awe for these men whom until now I had taken for granted. I was witnessing a precison based human rescue machine in action, not just individuals in professional uniform helping me out of a car but a team working to co-ordinated perfection.
With the roof of the car removed, conditions were now safe to lift me out. I could feel the stiffness of a board that had been inserted behind my back. I closed my eyes as I felt another board push down to the base of my spine.
Very quickly came the command for the initial lift and I felt the first grip on my legs. For a brief moment I held my breath in anticpation. Renewed fear flooded my mind and I squeezed my eyes closed even tighter in denial of what was to come.
"What if they can't lift me?" came the irrational worry coupled with the regret that I'd put on so much weight in recent months.
"For crying out loud, they're bloody firemen. Of course they'll lift you" answered the more rational side of my brain.
My paranoia was suddenly broken by an effiicient but almost embarrassed request to move my knees apart. As I glanced towards the steering wheel, I recognised that unless I did so, my body could be jammed during the lift. The last time I'd received such an awkward request was during childbirth. This latest situation shared the same levels of urgency where the only course of action was to swap dignity for feelings of relief.
And it was seconds from all being over. I closed my eyes once more and in short stages I felt the crew carefully lift my body onto the full length of the board, using their strength combined with gentleness to ease me into a horizontal position, safely and without injury.
It was over! And I was lucky. I quickly rose to my feet to shake hands with each firefighter as they received a round of applause from the spectators nearby.
Yes, I was very lucky indeed. Fortunate not to be a real casualty and honoured to play a part in a situation that I hope is never repeated "for real".
My experience was as a participant in a live demonstration that took place at our local fire station on Saturday and I feel hugely privileged. I'd been nervous beforehand about being trapped in a small space and relinquishing control during the process, but these short 15 minutes proved that I had nothing to worry about at all. And although it felt real, let's face it, being party to a true emergency would have been a whole lot worse.
But in that short time I learned some incredible lessons and gained valuable insight into the work of the men - and of course women - who often put their lives at risk, to save others. I can certainly say that I am now both enlightened and truly grateful. The crew who "rescued" me were totally awesome indeed.
Monday, 5 July 2010
Are these the winds of change?
I've been a grumpy old bugger of late, but who could be surprised. With a husband at high risk of redundancy and the state of the economy, I've preferred the sanctuary of watching the bees enjoy my garden than harping on about rubbish.
Instead of blogging, I've sat staring silently at the lavender and breathing in the scent of the honeysuckle until my peace with the world is broken by the passing traffic or a random man in his motorised paraglider taking regular opportunities to check out the gardens of suburbia.
Then there was the time my husband emerged from the kitchen holding a remnant of unidentifiable plastic crap, asking "where should I put this?" Yes he really did ask in such an inviting fashion.
I wanted to shout in the same way as I've taken to shouting at the TV.
"You can stick it up your..."
But I struggled to find an amusing even if rather predictable cockney rhyming slang to fill the space. With the benefit of internet research and resultant hindsight, I now know I could have replaced that very loud gap with anything from Political Farce to Tijuana Brass with even a touch of Hagen Daas.
After two and a half years of helping others reduce their rubbish why am I still the only one who takes responsibility for domestic waste knowledge management in this house. I'm convinced I mentioned my delight at our new "hard plastics recycling facilities" many times over, but short of gluing the council leaflet to his glasses, I don't know what to do.
I know we're facing change on the homefront that could have a bigger impact than any of my waste-bashing interests and I accept it's affecting my sanity too. Don't tell anyone will you but the lady seen emptying all the receipts and tissues from her handbag into a trainline rubbish bin was me. I only did it so I could look more presentable when meeting strangers in London that day instead of introducing myself as the haphazard specimen that I've become.
But in my favour I did remember to take my familiar refillable coffee cup, much to the annoyance of a very stylish cafe at St Pancras.
"We don't know if we can let you use that," they insisted, when I ordered my latte.
"I'm only trying to reduce your rubbish," I replied
"We'll have to check with our manager, to see if we're allowed"
Thanks to my recent mood, it's not enough that I want to shout at the TV and my husband, I wanted to shout at the staff too!
I really hope my husband's work is sorted out soon, or this grumpiness might last a bit longer. Well, change is as good as a rest, so maybe this new blog space will do me good as will the new Almost Average Headquarters into which I will be moving soon.
Yes folks, I've gone and bought myself a shed! But that is another story indeed.
Instead of blogging, I've sat staring silently at the lavender and breathing in the scent of the honeysuckle until my peace with the world is broken by the passing traffic or a random man in his motorised paraglider taking regular opportunities to check out the gardens of suburbia.
Then there was the time my husband emerged from the kitchen holding a remnant of unidentifiable plastic crap, asking "where should I put this?" Yes he really did ask in such an inviting fashion.
I wanted to shout in the same way as I've taken to shouting at the TV.
"You can stick it up your..."
But I struggled to find an amusing even if rather predictable cockney rhyming slang to fill the space. With the benefit of internet research and resultant hindsight, I now know I could have replaced that very loud gap with anything from Political Farce to Tijuana Brass with even a touch of Hagen Daas.
After two and a half years of helping others reduce their rubbish why am I still the only one who takes responsibility for domestic waste knowledge management in this house. I'm convinced I mentioned my delight at our new "hard plastics recycling facilities" many times over, but short of gluing the council leaflet to his glasses, I don't know what to do.
I know we're facing change on the homefront that could have a bigger impact than any of my waste-bashing interests and I accept it's affecting my sanity too. Don't tell anyone will you but the lady seen emptying all the receipts and tissues from her handbag into a trainline rubbish bin was me. I only did it so I could look more presentable when meeting strangers in London that day instead of introducing myself as the haphazard specimen that I've become.
But in my favour I did remember to take my familiar refillable coffee cup, much to the annoyance of a very stylish cafe at St Pancras.
"We don't know if we can let you use that," they insisted, when I ordered my latte.
"I'm only trying to reduce your rubbish," I replied
"We'll have to check with our manager, to see if we're allowed"
Thanks to my recent mood, it's not enough that I want to shout at the TV and my husband, I wanted to shout at the staff too!
I really hope my husband's work is sorted out soon, or this grumpiness might last a bit longer. Well, change is as good as a rest, so maybe this new blog space will do me good as will the new Almost Average Headquarters into which I will be moving soon.
Yes folks, I've gone and bought myself a shed! But that is another story indeed.
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