Bhutto - I am Legend

Benazir Bhutto, like her father before her, has been killed and moved into what can only be seen by many as matrydom. I was shocked to hear that she was assasinated but not surprised. I remember the news reports as she returned triumphantly, and with genuine emotion, back to the country of her birth and perhaps she knew the land where she would eventually die.

Even after the first attempt at her life I hoped that she would re-consider her strategy. She has children, as a mother I'm not sure whether I would want to take that risk with my life, with their well-being. Perhaps I am not as singular and passionate in a belief as she was. Perhaps death is an integral part of the Bhutto life .. her father and two brothers met a violent death. Some say it was the death of her father that brought her into the life of politics. I hope that she has not re-created this cycle for her own children.

She was a strange character ... I should be proud that she was the youngest, first and only female political leader of a muslim country ... but then I am unsure how I feel about the claims of corruption that led to her downfall twice. I am sad but also annoyed that she took the risk that led to her death ... But as they say, when your time is up, you can do nothing to delay the inevitable. I, like may others I am sure, am left with a strange feeling of loss and bewilderment.

Facebook killed the blogging star ...

I have been spending way too much time stalking, sorry networking on Facebook ... and now that I have discovered Scrabulous .. I have spent inordinate amounts of time getting my ass whipped by Mary in Toronto and whipping Salman in Newcastle.

I have resisted the temptation to link the two so far ... Paranoia is rampant amoing the siblings, Goliath & Vertigo. They have obviously things to hide! Me, well, now someone has my entire identity and bank details because of the missing child benefit CD ... what have I got to lose?

Anyhow ... saw this somewhere and decided it was so funny I had to post it ... so true .... So who are you in the meeting?

Well fook me!

You may have thought that I had died of embarrassment after eliciting just one measly comment from my last posting but it is worse ... the little rascal, nearing two years old now said a four letter word that stopped me in my tracks.

Whilst Zoo was eating his lunch, I pottered around the kitchen trying to sort out some juice and heard a clatter of cutlery on the floor. "Fook!" mutters Zoo staring at the floor.

I stand glued to the spot, petrified that I may have heard what I think I've heard.

Cream and I have tried our utmost not to say any inappropriate words in front of him especially as he has a tendency to pick up new words quickly. He has perfected the use of "pleees" and "tankque" and more recently "sawree", but this was not one that we has been practising. "Fartie" is the worse thing we've taught him so far.

"What did you say?" I ask trying to look unconcerned.
"Fook" he replies with a big smile on his face.

I try to ascertain exactly what he is saying and hoping it's not what I fear.

"Frog?" He shakes his head, "Fook."
"Fox?" "Fook."
"Fix?" "Fook."

Desperation is beginning to show now as beads of perspiration congregate ...

"Fish?" "Fook."
"Fart?" "Fook."


I run out of f words at this point and decide it's best to just ignore it and deal with the shame when he repeats it again in public. I pick up his spoon from the floor, give it a quick wipe for good measure and go back to pouring out his apple juice, with a deep sigh, wondering how I'm going to explain this to Cream.

"Ummmee" comes an angelic voice from the dining table. "Fook" he says pointing to the floor. It suddenly dawns on me that he is actually trying to tell me that he has dropped his fork!!

"Thank fucking God!!"

"Fookieee!!!" comes the reply from the table .... "Oh, bugger!"

Visitors' Book

There has been some discussion as to why no-one comments on any of my blogs ... so I invite everyone and anyone to leave a quick "hello" (or more) as proof that I'm not faking the visitor counter and that people are in fact visiting even if for a split second!!

I may of course end up being mighty embarrassed!! Let's see ...

Swastika Shopping

I may sound a little controversial here but what is all the fuss about a swastika found on a handbag at Zara?

Yes, I realise that the swastika was the symbol of the Nazi's but for thousands of years before Adolf decided to adopt it, it was used, and is still being used, by many different faiths around the world.

Hindu's and Buddhists I definitely know about, but apparently it is also used by Northern European pagans (the hammer of Thor); Roman pagans (on Roman coins and tombs); Early Christians (everlasting life); Jains (their seventh saint); Falun Gong (Wheel of the Dharma - a Chinese cult before you ask and nothing to do with Lost as far as I am aware!); Masons (Mystic Cross); Esoteric philosophers and Occultists!

I can appreciate that now the swastika is synonymous with Nazism & fascism but at what point do we allow the symbol to revert back to it's original purer uses. I have personally seen it used at a home in a bunting style on the front door. I can appreciate that this is the correct use of the symbol and am not going to refuse to enter the house until it is torn down and burnt!

Yes, to many the symbol is still too raw a wound. But there are many others who have encountered similar atrocities and have moved on. Were the moors terrified of the Christian cross during the crusades? If I found a burning cross in my front garden I'd know it's the KKK that have visited and not the local group of Jehovah's witnesses calling card! Should we ban the cross for this reason? At what point do we look at the context of it's use rather than the bare symbol itself.

So ... lets figure this out ... Do we think that those who still use the symbol, added it to a flowery bag they were making for a pittance, to give good luck and blessings to the person who bought it!? Or is it more likely that in some tiny sweat shop somewhere on the Indian continent, a skin-headed Nazi fascist, sat in a conveyor belt style of production sewing on swastikas, peering over his shoulder and hoping that no-one would notice?

Parking meters tick me off!!

What is it about parking meters?? The companies obviously realise that no-one willingly parks their cars at a parking meter and so have thought up an ingenious way of making the most of the occasion.

Today, I had to dash Goldie off to the vets after spending two days trying to get rid of a tick. At first I thought I'd pull it off ... but he squealed the house down when I went anywhere near him ... and so did Goldie. So I moved on to Plan B .. Kill it with Frontline combo and then pick it off in one fail swoop.

24 hours later and the blighter is still hanging in there, waving it's little legs in the air at me. Goldie scarpers every time he sees me as he begins to equate hurt with my presence.

48 hours later and it's still alive and taunting me by hanging on for dear life with teeth that it's borrowed from the world strongest man. I've spoken to the vet, read several articles and a couple of Internet video's and feel prepared to get rid of this unwelcome hitchhiker.

Unfortunately, the tick has other thoughts ... He resists any attempt to remove him and me being rather squeamish, can't bear to hear Goldie's yelps of pain as we play tug of war. I throw in the towel and call in the cavalry, the vets. I dash down and as I'm already late for work, I decide to cough up and park as close to the vets as possible rather than parking 5 minutes down the road for free. And this is where I get ticked off.

"30p for 20 mins, 60p for 40 mins & 1.50 for 1 hour," it declares. What bloody nonsense is that? Why not just 50p for half an hour and £1 for an hour ... no ... it has to involve you finding at least two coins for each transaction!! This of course cunningly increases the chances that you are not going to have the correct change.

So I reach into my bag and find a £5 note, a £2 coin and 50p. Great ... So I pop in the 50p and hope that it will calculate the overpayment and allow me extra time or provide me with change. The machine bleeps, "20 mins" is displayed, although no message about change being dispensed! Bloody great ...

In order to get rid of one parasite I am having to be bled by another! I curse at the machine and it spits out my money with an "aborted" message. What the ...!!

I take a deep breath, kiss my 50p goodbye and press the green button. I run into the vets and after a short wait, she slowly but surely tugs the tick off using a green contraption. I console myself with the fact that it took her three attempts before the tick decides to let go and prepare myself for the more painful experience of paying the vets fees.

"What's the damage?" I ask the receptionist ... She peers at her computer, looking confused and then strains her neck in for a closer look. "The Vet hasn't charged you ... it was free" she says slightly bewildered, to my hastely retreating figure.

Gorilla's in the chocolate mist

If you haven't seen this already, I'm not going to spoil it for you ... If you have enjoy!

A Rise in Public Confidence - Count me in!

Had to travel by public transport today and leave the car behind. I was petrified. It wasn't just a normal trip down the jubilee line ... it was a tube ride, followed by a train ride, followed by a bus ride to get to Kingston. Tried my utmost to get out of this meeting but was glad I went in the end.

Watching the news every day leaves you with a sense of loneliness in London and a "they are all weirdo's and violent maniacs out there" attitude. So the prospect of having to travel on public transport was a little menacing at first. After my panic attack subsided, I mapped out my journey and figured that if I dropped Zoo off early and got to Wembley Park by 8.10am, then I'd be fine.

Of course I didn't plan that my alarm wouldn't go off, or that it was an event day and I couldn't get parked within two miles of Wembley Park tube. So I returned home and running already 20 minutes late prepared myself mentally for a bus ride. Had to ring Cream for moral support and to check which bus I needed and had to cough up an astounding £2. (Yes I know ... before you mention Oyster, I have two good reasons not to use one ... 1. I safely stored my Oyster card somewhere so I wouldn't lose it and now no longer know where it is, and 2. Work will only reimburse travel expenses with a ticket and receipt.)

Anyhow I nervously got on the bus and realised I had no idea where it would drop me off and tried to catch the eyes of the sanest looking person on the bus. Found one girl who was prepared to meet with my eye and she even politely removed her headphones to check what I was muttering about.

At the station, after having been disgusted by the cost of the 20 minute bus ride, I almost fainted at the £13.50 cost of a return, but managed to get onto the platform and into Waterloo in what seemed like no time. I jumped onto South West trains and again nervously checked I was going in the right direction and finally reached Surbiton where a very nice rail employee directed me to the busstop that I needed and the lovely bus driver provided me with a lengthy but accurate detail of where I should get off as several passengers patiently waited to scan their oyster cards behind me.

Having arrived at my destination with 10 minutes to spare, I contemplated how people took similar journeys every day to work and just what a sheltered life I lived with my ten minute solo commute to work.

On the journey back home, I had summonsed up enough courage to strike up a conversation with an elderly lady, a Japanese tourist and a suited commuter whilst we all waited for the 83 bus. I probably spoke to more people that day than I had in the last month and it was actually a pleasurable experience. So if you spot a crazy woman on public transport asking for directions, it could well be me!!

Shark Bait & Mangoes

What is it with Pakistani politics? Like sharks who can smell a drop of blood from miles away, Nawaz Sharif has sniffed out a weakness in Musharraf and decided to fly in from miles away to see if he could bite off a piece of power. There has been a lot of talk of Benazir Bhutto in talks with Musharraf about returning to Pakistan. Heaven forbid that Bhutto get there before him and manage to eat a three course meal and leave him nothing but leftovers to dine on.

Anyhow it seems that Sharif seriously miscalculated just how wounded Musharraf was and after 90 minutes of refusing to leave his plane, eventually conceded defeat as he was deported to Saudi Arabia.

Now this is very different to a bout between Cameron and Brown at PMQ's. Where the worst that can happen is you end up with egg on your face. Pakistani politics is life threatening. The only country in the world that I know of where your life can be ended with an exploding gift box of mangoes.

Suspicious behaviour?

I know I've written about the McCann's before and I'll be honest I would have hoped by now that they would have found Madeleine's body. I know that sounds awful but at least the parents would have had some closure.

What has happened yesterday is a nightmare. It is intriguing to think that the Portuguese Police have some evidence that they think points towards the parents.

I watch too much CSI so I have always said that invariably it is the last person to have seen a missing person that is the main suspect. And I could never fathom how a major bit of evidence, the Cuddle Cat, was allowed to be carried around by the mother. You hear of cases where they find microscopic evidence months down the line so why don't they have this item in a lab somewhere being tested?

Anyhow, what I heard yesterday was the evidence seemed to be blood on the mother's clothes and in the hire car. I always love playing devil's advocate, so while most people at work were going down the "I knew something was dodgy about the whole case", I was playing the role of a celebrity lawyer.

The blood could be explained by the Cuddle Cat .. if Madeleine was holding this before she was abducted and the mother has had it ever since ... then transfer of microscopic evidence should explain this. And if it's a hire car .. who hired it before them? Is it conceivable that a local guilty person may have also hired the car to dispose of a body???

Who knows what the evidence is .. I now hear suggestions that the children were all sedated as well.

I must admit though that this case has shaken my trust in others. Cream and I do pop into the garden on occasion whilst Zoo is asleep in his cot, to put out the washing or pop something in the bin. The bedroom window looks out into the garden and we can clearly see the cot and Zoo from the garden.

Cream laughs at me .. but now I insist on locking the front door and putting the chain on if I am out the back ... just in case.

Bitten by a zombie!

Now I've been bitten by a zombie. Little did I know that this Facebook business was going to be so dangerous to my personal health with all the poking and biting going on.

Not sure what bugs bitten Cream .. he has spent most of the evening with his head down the loo ... Apparently a batch of dodgy grapes.

It's like watching The Witches of Eastwich!

I've been poked in the face ... twice!

Despite emails from various friends recommending joining facebook, I resisted. I went on and had a look but wasn't tempted by anything I saw.

Then I heard it had been banned at some workplaces ... and like the teenager who went out to buy Frankie goes to Hollywood record "Relax", I was strangely drawn to join, just to check out what all the fuss was about.

Well I joined two days ago and so far I have two friends and have been poked twice.

Hhhhmmmm ... "relax ... don't do it ..."

If only ....

Emotions are strange things ... Strange how you can become attached to what amounts to a pile of metal. I feel especially silly now after having spent the evening with my cousin who just lost her mother. My anguish at losing the car, a feeling of loss of memories, ownership, having to let go of the past, is ridiculous in comparison.

Her sorrow at losing her mother is plain to see and hard to console. Even harder as her mother although known to be ill, was not thought to be at the point where it was life threatening. But perhaps the pain emanates from the same emotions and denials. Not wanting to admit that the person has gone as has the relationship you held with them, not wanting to acknowledge that all that is left is memories of a person, not wanting to admit that we all one day will die.

What we believe happens after that stage differs from religion to religion or from person to person... but very few of us believe that we live forever in the same form as we do now. So why do we continue to allow oursleves to attach to others, when the pain caused at the time of loss is so unbearable. When we know that inevitably we will all die and the pain will be felt by those who we leave behind.

If only ... she kept repeating ... If only she had been with her instead of here in the UK ... if only she had know she was iller than she let on, if only she had spoken to her yesterday ... If only she had told her ...

Life is full of if only's. If only we knew what tomorrow was to bring we might deal with our todays in a better manner.

The Old Girl is put to pasture

Ok .. I have no shame in admitting that I cried as I passed the keys of my beloved Peugeot 306 over. After 11 years of lovingly carting me around the country ... (at least five trips to Newcastle & Edinburgh) I said goodbye to the old girl.

Strangely enough her last drive home was quiet .. not just because the radio still wasn't working but also because the rattling in the engine and the softly squealing brakes decided to take a breather. She drove beautifully ... well as beautifully as she had driven for a while. She's trying to make me feel guilty for trading her in, I thought.

It was obvious to the dealer that I was going to burst into tears as he told me that it was going to take him a while to set up his Sat Nav and I didn't need to wave him or the car off. (I realised how silly it seemed and I wondered if this was the same ploy used by nursery teachers who know that the parent is having more trouble letting go than the kid!)

He started up the engine and she groaned rather loudly in protest, or perhaps excitement, who knows. And I peered out from behind the net curtains as she was whisked away round the corner for pastures new.

Wishlist gets smaller

Well I am making good progress on my wishlist ...

An extension to the house ... well not quite there but have an appointment with the architects to measure up the house on Thursday.

Bag for work ... yeah well ... I'd only end up filling it with junk so perhaps my purse sized bag is best.

Battery replacement for Timberland wristwatch ... actually if I fix it, I'll need to buy a bloody watch box too ... nah I'll just leave it in the cookie jar!

More Sleep ... yeah right ... fat chance of that. At what stage did I start staying in bed all hours until forced to get out ny my parents? I'm sure that was about 18 ... in which case I have another 16 years before I'll get any of this!!

Nokia N95 ... If 3 weren't such tight arses I'd have this already, but I'll be buggered if I'm going to pay £100 for the phone on top of the line rental!

Re-mortgage ... keep meaning to get round to this I could probably save myself thousands in the long run.

Toyota Corolla Verso ... Paid a deposit and likely to be going round on Wednesday to drop off the Peugeot 306. Feel kind of sad really. My very first car has done me proud for the last 11 years and 98k miles. It's likely that the dealership will just auction it off and who's going to buy my car in the state she's in. No Peugeot logo, a dent in the side, a bit of the engine missing, cigarette burn in the back seat, stains on the seats (non-biological!), one dodgy tyre, one dodgy window, radio code unknown and a strange noise coming from the engine! The salesman did ask me what state it was in and I did tell him the truth .. it's a very well used family car and has a couple of dents in the side. It still drives though!!

Someone will pick it up for parts I suspect. Sad to think it will be torn apart after all the years we've had together. Cream, who wasn't as upset at the thought of relinquishing the old car (obviously isn't as connected with the pile of junk as I am) had other thoughts. "But look at it this way ... it's like she's an organ donor ... She's not going to die ... her parts will be spread out across the country helping others keep their decrepit cars just a bit longer." Nice thought!

What came first? The duck or the egg??

Mujnu decided to pop round to visit his cousin again ... with the gramps in tow of course. Although they brought an assortment of lunch with them I decided to go down the route of cooking my speciality scrambled omelette. A concoction I created on a day when my previously non-stick frying pan decided it really should have been born an obnoxious burn and stick to everything pan instead.

Anyhow ... I approach the dining table with a plate of my scrambled ommelette in one hand and a plate of warmed pitta bread in the other and Cream looks over and says "You're asking for it .. you expect them to make their own sarnies ... You'll have a mess on your hands."

Mum and Dad giggle in the background. But I nonchalantly totter over to the mischievous two now sitting eagerly at the table. I help Mujnu make his first one and even let him have a squig of ketchup with it. As I am helping Zoo make his, I hear a "mmmmm" from the other side of the table. "Pooopeee did you make it? ... It's nice ... mmmmm!"

I couldn't have been more pleased if Gordon Ramsey had suggested that I cook for him! So we sat and ate our food and Mujnu even picked out the five different types of veg in his plate.

Pepper, mushroom, broccolli, red onion, and tomato. "Do you know what else is in there?" He looks at his plate pondering ... "No, Pooppeee? What???"

"Eggs ..." and as I mutter this word, Mujnu's world seems to collapse around him .... Dad yells over ..."Now you've done it ... he won't eat eggs!"

"What's wrong with eggs??" I ask. "He's been watching Cbeebies and they have this trailer where a cute duck pops out of an egg."

"Pooopppeee ... duck's eggs?!?!? He is now staring at the half eaten sandwich in his hand in disgust and then looks up at me as though I have told him that I have just fed him Nemo fingers.

So here it is .... do I explain to a three year old that we humans use animals for labour and meat? That this is the way of the world and that we are no different to many other creatures here on God's earth. An endless system of recycling of sorts where we are fortunate enough to be the top of the food chain. I take a deep breath and do what any responsible parent faced with the potential of having a vegetarian child on their hands ....

"No!" I say laughing, "I didn't cook duck's eggs!!! I cooked .... different eggs!! The thought crossed my mind that perhaps I should mention the chicken that was involved somewhere along the line .. but Mujnu was sufficiently pleased with this answer to proceed to munch down his sandwich and then start filling up his second pitta bread too.

An explosion between the legs?

Dad has always been a man that was afraid of nothing .. when we went delving into the depths of the shed, he never flinched as I ran screaming from spiders, woodlice and wasps. During my childhood Dad was always there to put his hand down a stinky waste water pipe and pull out lengths of toilet paper or God only knows what else. I thought he was fearless ... until today. Today I realised that there is one thing that petrifies my father ... and it wa sonly today that I relaised the true scale of the phobia.

NAPPIES ... normal unused ones, he is fine with, but any encounter with a filled one fills him with ... well ... fear .. or to put it a little less politely .. he shits himself!

Now I have always assumed that when Dad spoke of never changing a nappy, it was due to a chauvinistic "I'm not doing that, it's a woman's job" attitude. On arriving back from work today however, I found Dad carefully placing Zoo on his changing mat and very gently sliding his trousers down ...

"HE'S DONE SOMETHING!" Dad yells to Mum in a panic ... Mum yells over that she is coming (she is stuck at the door with someone else) and I dash across, yelling over at Cream to watch this momentous occasion. Cream fumbles in his coat pocket, trying to get his camera out to record the moment for posterity and Dad realising that he has an audience, puts a brave face on.

"So are you going to change that, Dad?" I ask as we both peer at the nappy, spilling over with the days excess food. Dad has managed to take off Zoo's trousers by this point, but besides a couple of nervous giggles in my direction has not yet said a word. Zoo has done a particularly spectacular job and there are hints of what is within with an enticing whiff and a slight discolouration to his undergarments.

Dad peers at the bodysuit for a minute and manages to find a tiny area he is prepared to touch. He closes the tip of one finger and thumb around a press stud button and tugs ... and tugs .. and tugs. The bodysuit is not giving up without a fight and Zoo who normally is fidgeting all over the place is motionless ... probably in shock that Dad is actually so close to his filled nappy. Dad refuses to adjust the positioning of his finger and thumb, the thought of an extra mm closer to the nappy obviously uppermost in his mind and he tugs again. The stud button finally gives way and Dad gets a full unobstructed view of the nappy ... and then the funniest thing happens.

With a look of real fear on his face, he stares at the nappy. And then without taking his eyes off it, he slowly backs away shaking his head slowly as though it were a ticking time bomb.

Drinking Buddies

Mujnu had me giggling today. The Gramps weren't so happy but it was easy to see who was in charge there. Mujnu had insisted that the Gramps take him to visit his cousin as he hadn't seen him for a whole two days. I get the impression he has been making the same demands of his own father as Goliath has rung me twice this week, asking whether I was bringing Zoo round to the Gramps. Mujnu's persistence paid off and the Gramps dutifully strapped him into his child seat and drove the three miles necessary.

Once here Mujnu and Zoo spent their time running after each other, making hand prints and playing with playdough. Mujnu even decided to stay for a bite of lunch with ice-cream for desert, though unbeknownst to him there was more banana than ice-cream in his desert. As I was setting up the table for them both and they settled themselves into their spaghetti, I asked whether Mujnu wanted orange juice or apple juice with his lunch. Without any hesitation he replied "I want orange juice and Zoo wants apple juice." Cream and I had quickly established that the apple juice vanished far quicker than the orange juice, but I was amazed that Mujnu had taken the time to notice too.

After a rather messy lunch, came the even messier "how to get Mujnu back to the Gramps" game.

"NO!!!" Mujnu yelled, "Want to stay at Zoo's house!" After five minutes of cajoling, I managed to explain to him that he would definitely see Zoo tomorrow at the Gramps just like every Friday and they could play to their hearts content. Mujnu didn't seem very pleased with this solution, but we managed to get him to the car without the neighbours reporting any acts of child abuse to the Police.

You can't complain really, when you're a toddler tomorrow is an eternity away.

It's taken a little longer than expected ...

Well my body has finally figured out the truth. It's a bit like telling a child that Father Christmas doesn't exist. The kid looks at you for a while blankly, then starts snivelling in denial and then this develops into a teardrop or two and then a full torrent of tears.

Without going into too much detail, after three weeks my body started the little teardrop stage, then yesterday reality hit and the torrent began. Unfortunately it began at work so after spending ten minutes in the ladies, I managed to make my way to the boss who promptly sent me home. Unfortunately it took me another half an hour to get out of the building with another visit to the ladies on the way. Anyhow I managed to get home just in time for the next torrent and then spent the next five hours changing pads. Cream spent most of his time checking I was okay and insisting that as I had already changed pads six times in two hours, not counting the 10 x 5 minute visits to the toilet, that perhaps I should go to A&E (the hospital had indicated two changes in an hour was enough to admit me to hospital). I didn't relish the idea of going into hospital, especially as I hadn't bothered to shave my legs and just asked him to look out for signs of shock, at which point he had my permission to call an ambulance. Thankfully this was not required and around 9pm I was finally able to settle and watch a whole half hour of TV uninterrupted by a visit to the bathroom.

Thank God I had prior notice that this was going to happen because if it had happened out of the blue, I would have been seriously traumatised I can tell you. It's an awful feeling especially when you know what is happening and have no control over it. The one conciliation is that all being well, my body has dealt with it naturally without any external intervention and the myriad of possible complications that any intervention poses.

The hospital appointment on Friday still stands so they can let me know whether they still need to "redecorate" or not.

Update on the Invisible Baby

Body still hasn't figured out that it's new occupant teleported out some time ago, so have booked in for a D&C next Friday. When I tried to explain this to mum, she replied ... "Will they take a brush and clean it up!"

I couldn't help retorting "Yes ... and while they are in there, I've asked them to redecorate too!"

The Pakistani Apprentice

Although I was disappointed by her Pakistan adventure, I was strangely drawn towards the programme, like a moth to the flame. I managed to join it half way through the first episode and called Cream over so he could see the land of my ancestors and what he managed to glean was that the country was full of transvestites and a strange sect of headbanging Muslims.

I know I have only been to Pakistan once myself, but was Saira for real? She seemed to be amazed at absolutely everything. She waltzed into a Sufi festival and looked for all intents and purposes as though she had been locked in a cupboard for her entire life. Yes, there are Muslims that practice Islam in a way that does not involve driving a flaming car into an airport. She seemed genuinely surprised, but would you be surprised if you went into one of those evangelical churches where the preacher hits you over the head and cured you of cancer, if all you had ever seen was Songs of Praise. Perhaps her ignorance/innocence was reflected in her comment that she had never set foot in a mosque in England.

I actually got to the point of being really annoyed by her and have to admit that I was deeply embarrassed as she visibly gasped in shock when she realised that a group of jewellery traders on cycles could speak English. "Wow. Where did you learn English? School? You went to school? Wow!!" These guys were astute enough to make sure she bought a months worth of goods and laughed all the way home no doubt.

Later she also pulled into a small village and wondered why all the men were looking at her. Was it because she was not covered form head to foot? Was this a reflection of their view of women? Or was it simply that she had stopped for a cup of tea in the middle of what to all purposes was a truckers stop with a minibus of camera men, sound men, the director and God knows who else. If you saw a woman walking down the road with a camera crew in pursuit would you perhaps stop, look over and wonder what they were filming?

She eventually got to the scenic Kashmir and marvelled that Pakistan had such a beautiful side. But if you went to London, you wouldn't compare it with the Lake District would you!! She met fashion students and asked whether any Pakistani women would realistically wear any of the clothes they had designed. Would you expect a normal woman in England to be wearing Vivien Westwood latest creation if you saw it on a runway?

Despite everything I enjoyed the shots of Pakistan, marvelled at the fact that she never questioned the numerous shots of men holding hands openly in the street, and yet was aghast at every woman who had sensibly covered themselves up in the searing heat.

Not sure that I learnt except that there must be more British citizens, whether they be of Pakistani origin or not, that have no idea about what the rest of the world is really like.

Now you see it ... Now you don't

Have you ever experienced the feeling when you didn't know you had something, then realised you did, only to find out you actually didn't all along!! You know what I mean, a strange feeling of loss for something that never really was. It's wierd I can tell you ...

Anyhow, here's the story ... Some people I know can time their periods down to the day ... I'm not that lucky and have always had erratic monthly cycles and so have never been overly concerned when I seem to be late ... or even skip a month once in a while ... it normally rectifies itself ... and any woman will tell you that she knows there are times to worry and then there are times when it would have needed a minor miracle. And having a 19 month old child sleeping in the same room as you at night, means that for me to worry it would need to be a serious miracle!!

After Zoo was born, my periods didn't actually return for a good eight months ... something to do with breastfeeding ... I certainly didn't miss them, but my doctor was in shock when I told her and insisted that I might be pregnant again ... anyhow she was wrong and I had the test to prove it.

So when I missed one period, I thought nothing of it ... it'll turn up soon ... life just went on and it was only in early July that I remembered that it was awol. Cream tells me I'm a nutter and it hasn't been a month, but after lenghty discussions neither of us can actually remember the date of the last one but we think it was the middle of April. So after another week or so, we decide to just do the test and then if it's negative I can go and get a check up with the docs again.

And lo and behold ... it comes up positive!! Imagine the shock ... the thought of coping with two young kids ... the fact that I never did get round to organising the extension to the one bedroom maisonette we live in ... Cream kept walking around wide-eyed and mumbling something like "But we'd be a proper family ..." I still don't know what he meant, so don't ask me ... he was in shock poor guy! Cream was concerned that being the cheapskate that I was I'd bought the cheapest ones in the store, so I took another one the day after ... but still the same result.

So we tell the doctor, get referred to the hospital, turn up for a dating scan, which should reveal anything from 8 weeks to 12 weeks and ... KAPOW. It turns out I'm sort of pregnant. Let me explain ... I have an amniotic sac to prove it, but that's it ... so having managed to cope with the shock of finding out I was pregnant, we now had to contend with the fact that we were being told that I was no longer pregnant. All very confusing as I haven't had any signs of miscarrying and to date, the sac is still growing!! "Ummm ... wouldn't I know if I had miscarried ... wouldn't there be ... well ummm ... blood??" I ask the consultant ... "Sometimes, it takes the body a little while to figure it out." Three bloody ... or should I say unbloody ... months!!!

I now have a third hospital appointment in two weeks time to see "How I'm progressing" and am told that it (ie a miscarriage) may happen at any time ... Great, thanks. Looking forward to that!!

So now I just wait ... until my body figures out that it's not really giving birth to the invisible child!!

Hide & Seek

Zoo decided to play hide and seek with his Nanny today ... the only problem being that he forgot to tell her!

He was happily playing in the lounge so she decided to dash into the loo whilst he wasn't looking. He took the opportunity to run out the back door, down to the end of the garden and get into the shed where he played happily for 15 minutes, while Nanny sprinted round the whole house searching every room and under every bed, before she thought to look in the shed.

Dad took great delight in telling us about Mum's frantic search. Strangely enough Dad didn't find it as funny when he later went out to empty the bin and Zoo sprinted out of the front door to help. "He's too fast, man" Dad gasps in despair.

Ban All Segregation!!

Weddings... love the opportunity to meet the whole extended family ... our family are rather good at reproducing ... Mum and Dad between them have twelve siblings and each of these have inherited the trait too ... so it takes a wedding to be able to fit them all in one hall together!

Or in this case in two separate halls ... there is some new trend being observed by some of the extended family of strict segregation during weddings .. ridiculous really ... I mean ... everyone turns up with their spouses, brothers and fathers and then have to pretend to be disgusted at having to sit beside them during a wedding ceremony!! Jeez!! Poor old Cream got told off by the mother of the bride for trying to pass Zoo from one hall to another ... as he came within 100 feet of seeing a woman or two. Zoo got his own back by nicking her husband's walking stick!! I missed it but apparently he went sprinting off with it much to everyone's amusement!

Anyhow once the ceremony is over and the food has been served, the usual suspects (including myself) can be found out in the foyer or getting some fresh air ... the wedding planners haven't quite figured out how to segregate that!!

Goodness Gracious Me

"Mum look what I can do with one small aubergine" ... Zoo may be spending too much time with his grandmother!!

I think ... therefore I am?

You may have noticed that I've been away for a while ... just been busy ... nothing sinister ...

Been watching adverts for the Jeep Cherokee ... "nothing is inaccessible in a Jeep". Now doesn't this just prove how advertising can be misleading. The two in Glasgow obviously took this advert at it's word. Do you think they could report them for misleading and inaccurate advertising. Certainly Glasgow Airport terminal was inaccessible to the Jeep ... even if ablaze.

Even the Queen was annoyed that the BBC claimed that she stormed out of a portrait sitting because someone told her to take her crown off. It's amazing what clever editing can do. Never take what the media say at face value.

Never trust a company when they tell you that an item will be delivered within 10 - 20 days because forty days later you'll be wondering why you bothered going with a company called elbec toy kingdom. Having said that forty-one days later you'll be glad that you told them to shove it when you see B&Q advertising the same item £35 cheaper in their new sale!!

Always go with your gut feeling ... Then at least you can honestly say that if you made a mistake it was yours and yours only and no-one can claim to have led you down the garden path. Be a free-thinker, outside the box. Devils advocate even. Read Alastair Campbell's book, give Posh Spice a chance ... You never know you may learn something new ...

See .. I told you I've been busy ... thinking ...

Don't crash your car

The last couple of days have certainly taught me one thing ... if your asian looking, don't crash your car!!

If you do, a crowd of people will rush to pull you out of your possibly burning car, not to help you ... but to pin you to the ground because you are probably an Islamist terrorist (as they call them nowadays .. I understand that this is to distinguish them from normal well-meaning muslims.)

If you want to hear more discussion on this point check out the Radio 4 interview with our beloved Red Ken and Ed Husain.

I'll miss you ...

Did you notice a difference today in the way the country was run ... Nah ... nor did I ... but I was truly sad to see Tony go yesterday. Despite politicians being rather combatative, they all gave TB a good send off yesterday with a standing ovation nonetheless!! Perhaps they were just glad to see him with his P45 in his hand.

A lesson in Portuguese

For those of you who don't speak or read Portuguese, here's a rough translation of the comment on my get well message for Vertigo:

"Oi, I found your blog via google and it's well interesting. I liked this post. When you're passing check out my blog, is on personalized t-shirts, and shows step by step how to create a well personalized t-shirt. See you later."

It's pretty depressing when you spend ages blogging and the only thing that someone (other than my family) thinks is worthy to comment on is a message of best wishes for my Big Sis ... a one liner with no literary merit whatsoever. Perhaps Rodrigo is just suggesting that I should have bought her a personalized T-shirt with my beautiful grinning face on it instead of a cheap balloon!?!

Do you think anyone has a blogger's version of this sticker ...



Perhaps ... "Blog to Blog Sales ... please don't post."

That's just not cricket!

I saw something today that sent a shiver down my back .. no, not more hooligans at the parents home ... no, not Gordon Brown's being crowned as the new Labour Leader ... it was an ear-piece!

Not the actual ear-piece you understand but where I saw it ... okay ... it was in an ear ... but it was the location of the ear with the ear-piece. Okay ... the ear was exactly where you would expect an ear to be .. on a head ... But it was the location of the person with the ear with the ear-piece in it.

At a cricket match ... not a surprise, many members of the media and TV commentators will have an ear-piece where the producer can yell profanities at them or tell them to wind up coz the commercials on it's way ... But this ear-piece wasn't in the ear of some media crony ... no .. it was on the field ... and no it wasn't the umpire.

Shivers danced down my spine because during a Twenty20 match I witnessed ear-pieces in the ears of the players!!! Visa tried to convince me that the player may have a hearing aid or perhaps he was just listening to his i-pod ... but it soon became clear that a number of them were wearing them!!

Everyone who knows cricket ... knows that this just isn't cricket ... When in 1999 Bob Woolmer chatted to South African captain Hansie Cronje via an earpiece during the World Cup matches, all hell broke out.

What's going on ... someone please tell me!!!

MESSAGE FOR BIG SIS

Hope you feel better soon, Vertigo!

Bring back the youth of yesteryear

I worry about what the world is coming to ... Whilst round at mum and dads today I heard a crash and breaking of glass ... Now normally I would have suspected my little munchkin Zoo, but as he was seated beside me at the dinner table munching away at his food, I knew it wasn't him to blame. As I dashed over to the window I saw two young kids speeding away on pedal bikes. I went to the front door to try and figure out what had broken and whether it belonged to us but couldn't see anything except the back of these two kids on their bikes half way up the road.

I returned to the house and told Dad that I couldn't see anything. "I'll have a look" he tells me ... and scuttles off. He returns five minutes later "I can't see anything ... must be the rubbish people have dumped."

Another five minutes and more breaking glass, I again dash over and see the same two kids, pedalling as fast as they can up the road and round the corner .... "Oiiii" I scream after them. I discover where they have left a pile of dangerous shards of glass and as they come back for a third go at it, I glare at them with my best "Don't even go there or you are going to get beats" look. (This always works on Zoo and occasionally even Cream without ever having to resort to actual violence.) It works and they scarper off at pace.

Now I must admit this is not the first time that I have dealt with hoodlums around the neighbourhood and I am happy to stand my ground and let them know that such behaviour will not be tolerated. Cream then tells me off for being a vigilante, Dad tells me that I shouldn't get involved because I don't live here and Mum mutters something like "We don't want any trouble."

But I am pretty passionate on this issue ... My view is that there is already enough of this turning the other way, ignoring such behaviour, so I defend my corner ... foolishly seeing as I am clearly out numbered, but I refuse to back down on principle.

Why should my parents be afraid to go outside their door, for fear of repercussions from some teenage prats on a bike who have no respect for other's properties or the local community ... "But what happens if they come back ... Goliaths car is sitting in the drive and they might break his windows!" Dad explains ...

I look at Dad in amazement ... "Dad, if they come back and break panes of glass on the road and they know that they can do this without regard to anyone and without fear of any repercussions, then they have already won. Today it's someones rubbish out on the street, tomorrow it will be your house ... what are you going to do then? ... It will be too late ... Don't complain to me when you have a gang of drug dealers and hooligans hanging around outside your house because they know they can do what they like and no-one will bother them. It's the thin end of the wedge, Dad. When you make a stand now, you make a difference for the future."

"It's nothing to do with you, you don't live here!" is his reply.

"Fine, but my son stays here during the day and I am looking out for him!!" Dad doesn't have much of an answer to this and mutters something under his breath about busy bodies.

I appreciate his point of view but I remember the good old days ... you wouldn't dream about playing further than ten doors down from your own home ... and you certainly wouldn't misbehave as you would either get told off by a responsible adult or they would come and tell your parents what you had been up to. I long for those days now ... For kids who are respectful and don't answer back. For neighbourhoods, where everyone knew whose kids were who. For kids, who knew they would be in trouble if their parents found out. What happened to those days ... when did people start hiding behind their net curtains?

Well ... NOT ME, NOT HERE, NOT IF I'VE GOT ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT ... I don't care if people think I'm the local madwoman ... at least they know that they can't get away with shit where I am concerned. Don't mess with me, is the message I am giving out loud and clear.

"This neighbourhood is going downhill you know", I tell Cream as we walk to the car later that evening.

"It can't be that bad" he replied "You've left your car window wide open and they haven't nicked anything!" .... "Having said that ... let's be honest, there isn't anything of value to nick is there!?!"

Unwanted news?

I've just heard some distressing news ... apparently a letter has been received detailing Madeleine's location. Unfortunately it indicates that she is dead.

Half of me hopes that it's a fake or it isn't her because until a body is found, there is always hope.

The other half of me thinks, if it is Madeleine, then at least the parents can have some closure.

We wait.

INVOICE to Mark Shields

Advice and assistance in solving the non-murder of Bob Woolmer
from 18 March 07 to 2 June 07
£266,000

Please note that this payment is due whether or not you actually took heed of the advice given.


PS. An extra bit of advice for free ... say sorry to the Pakistani team or at least thank them for being co-operative in your investigation otherwise as I mentioned before they are likely to sue your balls off!

PPS. Don't just blame the pathologist ... might I remind you that when asked to comment you said you were confident that Woolmer was murdered, citing evidence from the crime scene not yet disclosed to the public which supported the initial findings.

"There is very clear evidence of murder," you told reporters. Elephants and the press never forget.

Sugar Babe

I'm not sure what the grandparents have been feeding Zoo but tonight he is a raving lunatic. He ate none of his dinner, danced on his chair, refused to sit still and then spent the next half hour bouncing up and down violently on the toy tiger.

This is not normal behaviour for Zoo ... not at this time of night anyhow ... so I was a little concerned.

"What did he have today?"
"Nothing .. just the packed lunch that you made, but he didn't like the rice and curry and he didn't want the tangerine. He ate all his lunch though"
"So he had all his lunch but not what I had packed?"
"Yes."

I look across at Cream who gives me his pleading please don't start an argument eyes.

"He should be hungry by now and he's not eating ... did he sleep late? Maybe he had his snack late." I say, giving them a get out of jail card for free to snap up.

"No, he slept straight after lunch and woke up early ... he did have an apple a little while ago" Dad says, quietly pushing a plate of sugar coated apple pies out of my view.

I sigh deeply. It's not worth the bother really, they always deny giving him anything ... but the truth is plain to see ... as I try to get Zoo down off the ceiling and into his cot! Only problem is he's managed to peel off half the wallpaper on the way down.

Mr Sandman send me a dream ...

Following on from my brother's posting on Dad's annoying habits ... thought I'd add a couple here ...

1. Brylcreem ... doesn't sound bad but he ends up plastering the stuff on Zoo's head and combing his hair so he looks like one of the kids out of the Little Rascals .. you know the one! His response to any criticism ... "It's good for your hair, I always use it" which isn't very reassuring when you take into account that Dad's bald!

2. Goliath thinks it's just him that gets the phone treatment ... Rang the parents today to suggest a nice picnic at Golders Hill Park seeing as the weather was so nice ... Mum made various excuses ... "I'm in the garden ... I've dyed my hair ... I can't walk!" So I asked to speak to Dad ... you hear her call over to him and I distinctly hear him say "Tell her I'm in the bath!" Despite the fact that I have obviously heard him say this, Mum bravely tries to convince me otherwise.

"He is in the bath!"
"Mum he's not .."
"Yes he is."
"Mum I just heard him"
"Yes"
"Well, unless you are in the bath with him, how did I hear him so well"

Slight pause ....

"I'm standing on the stairs"
"Mum! You said you were in the garden!"
"I ran inside to get the phone!"
"The phone is at the bottom of the stairs and the bathroom's upstairs!"
"Yes. I am at the top of the stairs"
"Mum, you can't take a walk in the park but you just ran up a flight of stairs within 5 seconds?"
"Honest, he's in the bath."
"Okay Mum .. whatever you say ... Got to go, we are driving home. Speak later"

At this point we get stuck in the queue of cars leaving Asda and as I can see Zoo nodding off, I give him the phone so Mum can keep him awake.

"Hello"
"Dad?"
"Yes."
"I thought you were in the bath"

Long pause ...

"I was ... now I'm not"
"That was quick ..."
"What. You think I'm building a house in there!"
"You probably are with all the time you spend in there"
"No, I don't"
"Yeah? Well how come everytime I ring and want to speak to you, you're in there?"

Longer pause ... stiffled giggle ... "What you want?"

Anyhow didn't manage to convince them so we went down ourselves to enjoy the ducks, chickens, roosters, mara, deer, alpaca and other wildlife. Had a great picnic dinner ... and Zoo decided to take turns on his parent's laps so as not to build up any jealousy ... either that or he wanted to make sure he wasn't missing out on any food.

Once we all had our full, we walked down to the kiddies park and let him play in the huge sandpit. He decided he wanted to go down the slide and as I helped him up and sat him down, he twisted himself round and flung himself on his belly down the slide. He had great fun with the other kids ... at one point, he was spotted being chased by an older woman .. (21 months) ... around the sandpit as she did her best to catch him and give him a kiss and a cuddle and he did his utmost to get away! When I explained what her intention was .. he turned around, wrestled her to the ground and gave her a cuddle, much to her surprise.

And she wasn't the only one surprised tonight ... we took him home and as I undressed him for his bath, it seemed as though there was sand everywhere ... his hair, shoes, socks, T shirt, vest and most wierdly of all his nappy!!! It obviously had the right affect though ... he was out like a light!

Emily ... have some twinings chai

"Are you being pushed out?"

Big Brother has hit the headlines yet again on a "racism" issue. I watched it last night and I have to admit that I was seriously annoyed. Not by the use of the N word! But by the stupidity of it all!

It is clear from the clip and from the transcript that Emily meant no offence and was simply trying to ingratiate herself with the "ethnic" crowd ... Ok .. she's nineteen, and has no idea what effect the word has on the older generation of blacks ... but having said that it is clear that the younger generation use it in a very different sense. They have reclaimed the word and changed it's meaning. You can easily tell when someone uses it with malicious intent ... it was obvious that Emily did not mean any offence by her comments. The girls originally giggled about it. What I found more interesting was what happened afterwards ...

Emily insisted that she was not the first person to use the word and Charley even seemed to accept this and repeated it again. So was Emily simply repeating what she thought was accepted language in the house? If Big Brother's stance is that it is not the intent but the mere use of the word, then surely that means that everyone who used the word should have been booted out. BB Big Mouth was so sensitive about offending the public that they referred to it only as the N word! To be honest I am offended by the frequent and gratuitous use of the F word but no-one has been booted out for that yet!

Charley then spent the evening, making the most of the opportunity. Let's be honest .. Charley was more offended earlier when Leslie asked her if she was stupid, than by Emily's use of the word nigger ... but what happened then was amazing ... Charley managed to tell the whole household just how shocked she was about it. If she were truly offended, go into the diary room and make your view known, but to whine around the house whispering to others and then pretending they must have overheard you rather than you couldn't keep your mouth shut. I thought her comment "I'll be on all the front pages" was more telling about what her thoughts were at that moment in time.

Conversations with Mark Shields

"Ok .. you asked me to come out here .. what's the deal?"
"I've got a problem Xzsara ... this Woolmer thing has me seriously confused"
"Yeah well I can see that ... Have you read my posts on my blog"
"I have and I think you're right ... but look I've been told he was strangled"
"Dude, no struggle, no bruising, no-one going into the room, no motive ... Won't wash ..."
"How about match fixing??"
"What proof have you got of that ... the fact that the Pakistani team played shite ... that's nothing new ..."
"Ok, ok ... how about one of the players."
"Yeah, right in a fit of rage because they lost ... give us a break ... you've finger printed them all and nothing came up"
"What about the weedkiller??"
"What a trace amount that you've managed to find on everyone that was out on the field that day ... no, don't think so ... what else you got?"
"Al-Qaeda!!"
"Dude, are you crazy ... you been smoking with Dubbya again ... I told you that shit messes with your mind! What evidence have you got?"

Long pause ...

"Well .. come on Shieldsie ... what you got?"

Even longer pause ....

"Nothing ... think he had a heart attack"
"Man ... I told you this on March 25th!! What's taken you so long ... ok .. so you would of looked stupid ... but now you look even more stupid three months later!!"
"What do I do??"
"Just leak it to the press and by the time you actually announce it, no-one will be able to act surprised ... ok ... and next time don't get all excited and go running off with your conspiracy theories ... you been watching too much CSI mate!"
"Oh .. Xzsara .. one more question ..."
"Yeah what ..."
"You're a Pakistani .. can you speak to the team, let them know ... you know .. no hard feelings"
"No hard feelings?!? ... Dude, what planet are you on .. they're already talking to their solicitors, they are gonna sue your balls off!"

Noah's Ark

Finally, it's stopped raining!! I was a little concerned about having to gather two of each animal with the relentless rain and the fact that the garden was beginning to flood.

The wind didn't help matters much either ... this morning, Cream had to run down the road in his pyjamas to find the play tents and crawling tunnel, that he assured me would be fine in the garden overnight.

"But, it's really windy"
"We've got a brand new six foot fence ... don't be silly, it'll be fine!They aren't going anywhere"

The tunnel was found in the front garden and the play tent was six houses down on top of a car. Suffice to say, tonight they are weighted down with several very large boulders.

What's to be afraid of?

It's a Bank Holiday weekend and so far all I have managed to do is mow the lawn. "Thank God" my dad yells, "It was looking like a jungle out there ... but you missed a bit in the corner!"

I must mention here that Dad recently has become a little more critical than normal ...(Before Goliath goes off into his "your Dad's favourite argument", I would point out that I do often get criticised ... especially since getting married ... Cream and Dad enjoy ganging up on me.)

So while sitting in my garden he managed to fit in five "You should's" in the space of 15 minutes before I politely asked him whether he would like to make life easier on himself and just point out those things that I was doing correctly. He paused, gave the garden a look over and replied "If I think of anything, I'll let you know" Thanks Dad.

Anyhow last week, I learnt something new about kids ... things scare them .. now I know this may seem like a foolish comment, but after Zoo's various encounters with the coffee table, I thought nothing frightened him ... For a while the only thing that would scare him was Goliath ... he would bawl at the mere sight of him. Things have changed and now he lovingly calls out to his mamu!!

So when he started bawling at the dinner table it took us a while to figure out that it was the new fan that had spooked him. Managed to calm him down and let him play with the buttons for a while (whilst unplugged) and then let him carry it around the room and now he's fine, but it's amazing how something tiny can really set a kid off.

Mujnu was too frightened to play in Zoo's play tents and tunnels despite watching Zoo crawling through them with speed ... Goliath reckoned I should have just flung him in there.. but I know from experience that that never works.

My parents were of that vein ... we used to have a great outdoor swimming pool in Gladstone Park which we visited in the summer and I vividly remember my Dad's attempts to get me to swim, which involved leaving me in the middle of the pool with a float. He was sure I would suddenly overcome my fear, realise how to swim and paddle back over to the edge ... to this day I still can't swim and I am sure that I was so traumatised by the event that I refused to have anything to do with water for years after, including washing!!

Dad was positive that throwing kids in the deep end worked ... Another time I remember being invited to a boy's birthday party and so, being the only girl invited to this party, I cried and cried and said I didn't want to go. Finally Dad relented and said that it would be rude not to at least give them a present seeing as I was invited. So we agreed that we would take a birthday present over, knock on the door, give my apologies, and come back home.

Now in my more senior years, there is no way I would have fallen for this, but oh to be so young and naive again ... you can see how this goes, I climb out of the car in my party dress (I should have suspected something here I know) and with the present in my hand ... Mum and Dad smile at me ... I walk up the garden path, turn around to see Dad smiling and waving back at me ... ok, just give the present, say sorry, I can't stay and make my way back to the car .. easy .. even for me the most nervous and shy kid around! I ring on the doorbell, look around ... Dad still sitting in his car ... the door opens, a kind looking mother opens the door, I pass her the present and tell her I'm going home and she looks at me confused.

"I've got to go home, Dad is waiting in the car for me" ... I explain and as I turn and realise that Dad has driven off, I burst into tears. I'm sure if you ask Dad now, he will say it was character building. I suppose I should consider myself lucky ... Unlike Mum, at least he waited til they answered the door before speeding off.

Chubby Pakistani Dude

Just set up Goliath's blog for him ... Cool, even though I say so myself ... Check it out ...

Never eat brownies whilst watching Lost ...

How to get rid of welcome visitors

Goliath came round today with Mujnu ... and my birthday present!! Better late than never ... and although the box looked like it had fallen off the back of a lorry I saw the receipt and it's all legit.

Anyhow Zoo and Mujnu spend the evening playing with each other ... or should I say, Zoo spent the evening, showing Mujnu his toys, which were promptly snatched out of his hands, and then when Mujnu's attention was diverted to something new, Zoo would snatch them back and run off with them, closely followed by Mujnu. Hours of fun and tears there.

Anyhow I made biryani ... which is an indication of exactly how momentous an occasion it was ... and after eating, Mujnu asks Goliath "Are we going home yet?" My brother in true Goliath style, replies, "No, we have to wait ten minutes"

Those who know my brother will know the formula! Length of time spent at event involving food = From (dinner time minus 60 mins) to (dinner eaten + 10 mins)

So with bellies full of biryani & chocolate ice-cream Mujnu and Zoo return to their playing and I even settled the pair of them down to read some pop-up / musical books. Goliath finally decides to set off home and Mujnu decides he's having much too much fun.

"No, I want to stay"
"Don't you want to see Mummy"
"No, I'm playing!"

At this point I decide to intercede, "OK Mujnu, if you are staying, can you help me tidy up all the toys."

Mujnu looks around the room at the scattered toys, looks at his Dad and rushes over to the door, grabbing his hat on the way and yells ... "Sorry ... I've got to go home now!"

All love can be

I was reminded of a track that I used to sit and listen to when I was heavily pregnant with Zoo. As I sit here, listening to his gentle breathing, I am reminded of just how lucky I am to be able to sit here watching him in the darkness ...

I will watch you in the darkness
Show you love will see you through
When the bad dreams wake you crying
I'll show you all love can do
All love can do

I will watch through the night
Hold you in my arms
Give you dreams where love will be
I will watch through the dark
'Til the morning comes
All the light I'll take you through the night to see
A light showing us all love can be

I will guard you with my bright wings
Stay 'til your heart learns to see

All love can be...

Home Alone?

You may be wondering why I have been strangely silent these last two weeks when we have a huge media story about the young girl Madeline who has been abducted whilst on holiday. I must admit that when I first heard of the kidnapping, my initial reaction was one of astonishment that a couple could leave three children under the age of four, alone in a flat and then go for dinner with their family and friends some distance away. When I heard that they had turned down a 24 hour babysitting service, I was aghast. When I heard that the parents were educated, indeed the father was a renowned cardiologist, I shook my head in disgust.

I do feel for them and certainly as a parent I would not wish that experience on anyone, but I consider that they are lucky not to have lost all three children that night. I pray that they are reunited with their daughter very soon and that they find her healthy, unharmed and well cared for. The alternatives are unthinkable. But this does not distract from the fact that responsible adults thought it fit to leave three children, all under four in a room on their own. Alright ... so no-one suspects that someone is going to kidnap their child, but think of other scenario's ... a fire breaks out, a gas leak occurs, the place is flooded, in the blink of an eye a life can be snuffed out and it seems that the parents had not even thought of these situations. So they have a nanny at home who normally tends to the children's needs, but surely they realised that a child, whether awake or asleep should never be left on their own.

I am only too aware of what can happen if you take situations for granted. I am neurotic, thinking of every possible scenario when he is asleep in his cot. If I run to the front garden to empty the bin, will I trip up, bang my head and be left unconscious; if the door slams shut and I get locked out how would I get back into the house. Perhaps I am overly cautious but one thing I have learnt is that it is always the unexpected things that are sure to happen and I am only too aware of the mischief Zoo can get up to if you turn your back for a split second.

Ok ... we can't wrap our children up in cotton wool, but it is important to remember that none of us are immortal, neither us nor our children. Lives can be changed dramatically and permanently in seconds. The pan of boiling water that you think your child can't reach, the bottle of bleach that your child wouldn't possibly be able to open. Children are resourceful mites.

I distinctly remember when I was younger that we used to play out in the street with the neighbourhood kids, playing at being spies and using old matchboxes as walkie talkies. One day we were joined by a child, who must have been at the most three years old. We thought nothing of it and played for hours until it was time for everyone to go home. It was only then that we realised that he didn't know where his home was. We spent several more minutes trying to get him to explain where he lived without luck or his phone number and we were on the verge of giving up and calling in for some adult assistance when a police car screeched to a halt and a sobbing woman ran out of the car and scooped him up into her arms.

It transpired that the blighter had got bored at home, pulled up a chair, opened the door and let himself out. Now this was some twenty years ago that this happened and I still vividly remember the relief on the mother's face as she cradled him in her arms. I sincerely hope that the McCann's get to experience the same relief.

The press have glossed over the neglect aspect of the story in covering this story. I commend them for keeping the story in the headlines, but at what price? The Portuguese Police have the right approach when it comes to criminal cases and the media .. they refused to release evidence or information. However the British media made a hayday of Robert Murat's "arrest" and quickly branded him a creepy man with a twitching eye trying to wriggle his way into the heart of the investigation by being helpful ... obviously guilty. Now I know nothing more than the common person, but what I do know is just how easy it is for the media to paint a situation with a particular shade of colour or shoot it at a particular angle that distorts the true picture.

A media black out on any criticism of the parents, a media circus around Robert Murat and his associates. What happens next though if all this fizzles out, if no further leads are apparent, if the story begins to fade from the front pages and headlines. What then for the parents ... what then for Madeleine? The sobering thought is that other parents have been dealing with similar situations for decades, never knowing what happened to their children or where they are now.

Luggage Cock Up

Someone I know told me about their luggage cock up on arriving in Spain ... I assumed she meant that it had gone missing ... Little did I know that she was being literal.



I think she would have preferred for it to have gone missing ... the baggage handlers thought it would be funny to see someone hauling this through customs!!

Come over to the other side ...

I am trying to encourage my brother, Goliath, to defect.

He has a great blog which he started only to find that it was one of those free trial sites that shut you down after two weeks ... I mean I would never fall for a trick like that now would I ... (see my encounter with my "free" fancy blog counter!)

Anyhow .. he seems to have managed to get his blog back up .. I hope without forking out any money. So this is my message to Goliath:

BLOGGER IS FREE!!! NOT A PENNY!! NOWT!!!

I have saved your current postings and let me know and we'll sort you out with a free one mate!! Good to see you back!!

Evolution and coffee tables

I was always taught that evolution was all about animals figuring out what was good for them ... the "monkeys that kept eating red poisonous berries dying and never having stupid kids that do the same" type of theory ... Now I figured that this works for human evolution and the process of learning too ... young child burns his fingers after playing with the hot water tap and never goes back to the tap again. Now to me this makes perfect sense so I apply the same theory to my own son, Zoo. Only one problem ... it doesn't hold up! Let me explain.

Zoo has an arch nemesis in the house, no not the cats as you might suspect ... they have the sense to just steer clear of him ... it's the coffee table ... we have already had to clip it's corners with foam covers (imported from USA, only place that had protectors for bevelled corners!!) and after installing them and then reinstalling them with superglue we thought that all was now safe. That was until he started climbing on top of it instead of diving head first into the corners. So today whilst trying to manoeuvre himself onto the table he manages to roll straight off the other side!!

Although rather a nasty fall ... after 5 minutes of crying he was left with a small red patch on his head but no bump and just wanted an all-healing maternal cuddle. We sat quietly for a while reading a book and played a new game of trying to locate the "squeak, squeak" mouse in the pages and I thought just another one of his bumps and scrapes until 15 mins later when he vomited.

Now I know you have to be careful with head injuries so I thought I best check out NHS direct online before arriving at A&E unnecessarily. After clicking on the answers I panicked when I saw the "999 pop up" and rang Cream to get home now and ran around the house looking for my car keys. At this point Zoo is looking at me inquisitively and giggling and I wonder whether I've got this right ... so I re-check my answers on the website.

Is your child unconscious? No
Is there any danger of a neck or spinal injury? No
Did your child become unconscious or did they seem dazed or groggy immediately after the injury? - Oh shite .... I answered Yes instead of No.

Let's see if No makes a difference ... After another three questions I ascertained that unless he vomited more than twice than it was safe to manage the problem at home.

Emergency over and with Cream now at home after having sprinted across the park ... we settled down to a normal Saturday morning ... to see Zoo stroll over to the coffee table and try to climb up again!! What happened to evolution exactly!! Shouldn't he now be terrified of this coffee table ... I mean it's almost taken him out twice!!

You may now kiss the bride.

Zoo fails to understand the concept of catching the bridal bouquet and manages to nick the bride's veil instead!

Wedding season

It's official .. I am old .. gone are the days when I could stay up all night nightclubbing and then go to work the following day after an hours kip. I had two separate events I attended this weekend, on both occasions I was home before midnight and I feel like I have run a marathon!!

Had an enjoyable time though ... well sort of ... first event on Saturday was ladies only ... so I left my two men at home for a bonding session and enjoyed my first late night out for years. OK .. not quite Ministry of Sound ... with mum and Vertigo in tow but an enjoyable evening.

Second event was on Monday and I managed to turn up frazzled and fashionably (an hour and a half) late, with Mum, Dad, Cream and Zoo in tow. As soon as we got to the venue, Mum was off with the kid parading around her latest grandson to everyone and anyone within sight. I even caught Dad showing off to his mates that Zoo could wipe his own nose!

Of course within an hour, Zoo had managed to charmed all the women and half of the men too and then proceeded to throw himself into a game of "trains" being played in the foyer. "Trains" involved all kids from barely walking up to 10 years old, charging around the foyer after each other, whilst the parents looked on helplessly. Beside a couple of interesting moments when we were all sure that the game was going to turn into "fatal train-crash" and when one kid decided he's pop outside to see what those dodgy looking blokes were smoking, the event passed off without incident.

Zoo was exhausted but exhilarated at being up past 8pm and Mum and Dad had to be taken home at 11 o'clock, kicking and screaming with cries of "but we want to stay longer!"

The wanderers return

Nine o'clock tonight Dad arrives on the doorstep ... and as it's a well known fact that mum does not normally like being left alone at home at this time of night, we ask him where Mum is. Dad explains that he had dropped her off at Auntie's house half a mile round the corner but wasn't prepared to stay to listen to all the women chattering nonsense.

So we settle down to watch TV, check out the new fence (more on this later) chat about the upcoming family events, peer at the sleeping Zoo ... before we are disturbed thirty minutes later by a continuous chiming of the door bell and a pounding on the front door.

I open the door to a frazzled looking Mum ... "I found an angel" she yells waving frantically at an asian girl pulling away in a car. It would seem that when Dad dropped Mum off, he didn't actually wait to see her enter the house, so although the lights were on, evidently no-one was at home. Mum had no money and no phone but managed to make her way down the steep hill and get to the closest busstop, where she took the opportunity to take a breather. It was at this point that her angel turned up asking the "Bhagi on the bench" what she was doing out at this time of night on her own and offering her a lift.

PS. Goldie came home today too ...

Willie or will she?

We have been taking full advantage of our visitation rights to Goldie ... Each time he gulps down a handful of crunchies and some water and then starts purring away ... he's a nervous cat around people he doesn't know and absolutely loves roaming around the garden for most of the day so being in a little pen surrounded by strange faces and other animals for the last week must be awful for him.

As I arrived this morning the vet told me that Goldie had left me a little present ... a distinct wet patch in his litter tray ... hooray!! Not as much as there should be, but certainly a start!

The vet also mentioned that he was going to try an anti-inflammatory but that in difficult cases the only solution is surgery ... (the boy becomes girl type!) I suppose Goldie is a unisex name, DJ Goldie or Goldie Hawn, who's gonna know the difference.

I went to visit him in the evening and he had obviously overheard the vets comments ... his litter tray was full of pee and he made a concerted effort to dribble a little pee just for my benefit.

Crystal Clear - the sequel

Spoke to the vet today and she is going to re-catheterise Goldie as he seems to have re-blocked. We just want him home now but obviously in his condition he's in the best place.

Pav isn't coping too well either and has resorted to sleeping in the cupboard for the majority of the day ... I think she hopes that when she wakes, it will all have been a bad dream and Goldie will be back in his usual place on the couch.

Ditto ...

Goldie Cam

Please help feed Goldie!

adopt your own virtual pet!

Crystal Clear?

Sorry ... I've been away a while ... been busy ... Goldie has been experiencing problems. He spent Thursday morning trying to pee on anything that sat still long enough for him to squat on. (Zoo was perfectly safe in this aspect .. he is suffering from antsinmypantseitus at the moment.)

We took him to the vets and they told us that he was suffering from crystal buildup in his bladder. She told us it was good that we caught it early as it can sometimes prove fatal if missed. Poor Goldie ... this meant putting him under, inserting a catheter and trying to flush out all the crystals. Of course the vet won't release him until he is peeing to his hearts content and she is sure that all the crystals have been removed or dissolved.

Only one problem ... in protest about being stuck with this plastic thing up his willie, in a cage, with a wailing neighbour below him, he has gone on a hunger strike. Of course until he eats and drinks something, he's unable to pee and poo so the vet won't let him come home ... two stubborn buggers ... interesting fight here.

Round One to the vet ~ she knocks him out cold and sticks a catheter in
Round Two to Goldie ~ he refuses to eat and drink
Round Three to the vet ~ she gives him an injection to stimulate his appetite
Round Four to Goldie ~ he pulls out the catheter
Round Five to Goldie ~ the vet can't get it back in, and can't get him to eat, she throws in the towel and asks us to come and see him Saturday morning.

Although the victor in this bout, Goldie was sitting in his litter tray looking miserable. I gave him a cuddle and he cheered up and started to eat his new prescription diet with a little encouragement, but as soon as the vet entered his eyeline, he just clamped his mouth tight and stared at her. To be honest, I would probably do the same if someone had spent the last three days trying to stick things into every orifice I had.

Although he had a good pee while I was there, she insists that she wants to keep him a little longer and he should be alright to return on Monday, fingers crossed. We are missing him about the house and Pav, his partner in crime, is constantly on the window sill, and miaowing at the back door, reprimanding us for leaving him out all night.

Just when you thought it was safe ...

Came home tonight to what seemed like an empty house ... queue scary music ...

"Hello" ... Apart from the TV still on in the front room ... all is suspiciously quiet ... I walk past the bedroom ... the cats are lying peacefully asleep on the bed ... empty nappy changing area ...

"Cream? ... Zoo?" ... I check in the bathroom ... no-one ... no screaming kid ... no shouting father ...I can see that the back door is unlocked ... oh my God ... no surely not ... I grab the handle, take a deep breath and open the door apprehensively ... to find Cream weeding the gravel garden and Zoo plodding around in his wellies and carrying a stick which he periodically prods at various plants.

"I see you decided to get some help this time to identify the weeds"

Chamelon Plant

Cream has a week off work and promised me he'd sort out the mess in the garden ... it has been sorely neglected since the birth of Zoo but last month I did start on weeding around the pond and managed to put a layer of cocoa shell mulch down and last weekend I mowed the large expanse of lawn.

Came home to see what had been done ... perhaps he had started on the unorganised shed, perhaps he had got rid of the pile of junk which he had evicted from the shed into the rockery, perhaps he had cleared out his neglected vegetable patch, perhaps he had cleared the obviously overgrown gravelled area ... No ... he decided to start in the area that I had already weeded a month ago and managed to pull up a fern, an astilbe and a huge area of chameleon plant!

After taking a couple of deep breaths I pointed this out to him ... "I spent three hours on my hands and knees digging all that up" "Well if you weren't sure what it was, what did you dig it up for?" ... but this simply threw him over the edge ... "Thats it .. I'm never going to do anything in this garden ever again!" he shouts.

Well thank God for that ... it will save me trying to replace what he pulled up!!

Four and a half G...? Two and a half hours ...?

Ok .. It's almost over .. I am a year older and wiser today ... Never take your child shoe shopping on a weekend.

Decided to get Zoo a new pair of shoes so we got to Brent Cross very early, in time for the doors opening and then spent the next hour walking past shop windows full of assistants clearing up and sorting stock before letting any customers in. Cream spent a couple of minutes looking at some poor girl hoovering a shop display and then with a grin on his face, knocked on the glass and mouthed "You've missed a spot!"

Waited around outside Clarks, no other parents hanging around (although Russell & Bromley already had a queue leading outside the building by this point) so we decided to take a walk around and come back in 5 minutes when it opened. Big mistake ... came back to a hoard of parents and kids and when we took our ticket we realised that we had at least 13 parents in front of us in the queue and all of them seemed to have a least three kids each! I overheard the manager telling a staff member off ... "don't tell them half an hour ... no .. even if it is going to be an hour .. tell them 15 mins!" After a long (45 mins) and unproductive wait ("no, they're not in stock, no we can't order them, yes we get stock every day, no we don't know what stock"), we decided to go to Russell & Bromley instead.

Cream approached the manageress there and she passed him ticket number 00. I asked how long we were likely to wait seeing as they were on number 87! Only about 10 or 15 minutes she replied ... Yeah right I'm thinking ... But low and behold she was right ... "88" .. the staff assistant calls, no answer ... "89, 90, 91, 92" she yells in quick succession ... a mother raises her arm and the staff assistant totters off to attend to a screaming toddler. Next assistant calls "93", no answer, "94, 95, 96, 97" ... someone yells from a far corner.

At this point a tired looking father staggers into the shop and looks bemused at the computerised number staring back at him. "But I'm 81" ... Cream who has almost lost the will to live at this stage whispers "If he gets served before we do, I am gonna scream!"

"98, 99" ... I jump up with my 00 before anyone can respond to the first two numbers and within 15 minutes of entering the shop Zoo is the proud owner of a new pair of shoes and I feel like I have aged another 15 years!

An Interview with God

Found this little video ... I think it speaks for itself.

Cillit Bang

Barry Scott has been round and sorted out my writer's blockage!

Am I Asian in America?

Can't blog without mentioning the killings at Virginia Tech ... when news originally broke, the information was that an Asian was responsible. Dad held his head in his hands and groaned ... "Had to be us Asians, I bloody hope he's not Pakistani!" ... until it was explained that when the Americans talk of someone of Asian origin, they actually mean "China etc ..."

An absolute horror story, more so because of the video he made, reportedly after the first two killings but before the mass spree killing. He rambles on about Mercedes and necklaces, but it seems clear that he feels he has been bullied, persecuted, railroaded into this situation. He also mumbles about Jesus Christ and uses the religious analogy that he is being crucified, that his blood is going to spilt for the entertainment of others. The media reported that his video mirrored and was influenced by similar video's made by Al-Qaeda's suicide bombers. I read Raising Yousuf's blog and realised that I am not the only one concerned by comments such as these ... not for their content but in relation to the media coverage and what it would have been like had he been a "true Asian".

History repeating itself?

Lets hope not ... Duncan Fletcher today announced that he would be resigning his post as coach for the England Cricket Squad after a dismal performance ... (I say dismal but they got further than Pakistan anyhow!) I suspected as much when I heard than instead of giving his usual press interviews he had decided to play golf instead ... Do you think Visa and Vertigo have been at him??

I just hope that someone keeps an eye on Duncan now ... It's open season on coaches out there.

Afternoon Siesta's

Zoo has been upgraded. We traded him in for the newer version that has one nap instead of two. The grandparents are loving it (as is Cream!). Zoo is no longer fighting to stay awake as they try to settle him for his morning nap and by the afternoon he is so exhausted, he puts up little or no fight and sleeps for a good two and a half hours!! Of course this means that they all get a two and a half hour break from the little terror.

I should be equally pleased ... only one problem. I have lost my morning break!! And it also means that around the time of his now non-existent morning nap he starts getting a tad ratty ... and I have to think of something new to entertain and distract him. The weather today was wonderful so that was easy ... emptied the play sand into his new sandpit/water table, filled it with water and let him go. Lost a fair amount of sand to the garden patio but he absolutely loved it.

I was especially proud of the fact that I had managed to keep him dry throughout. Until of course five minutes before Cream is due back home, when he finds a plug sort of thing in the water table and decides to see what it does. After discovering the new waterfall, he decides to try to stem the flow by crawling under the table and putting his palm against the hole.

Writer's block

I think there is something wrong with me ... I seem to have lost the urge to blog ... so much in the news, so many thoughts and when I settle myself down, with the background snores of Zoo for company and the occasional miaow from the cats ... nothing happens ... nothing funny pops to mind, nothing amusing, nothing noteworthy. Now there could be a couple of reasons and I shall have to investigate this further in order to figure out whether there is any pattern or reason for this.

Possible reason 1. Time of the month ... see previous posts for pre-monthly rant, so this must be the quiet period. (Pun not intended!)

Possible reason 2. I'm old. It's my birthday on Sunday and I will be old....er. Still not a big one but edging towards it. Will I suddenly feel the urge to blow all my savings on a two seater sporty car?

Possible reason 3. I've lost it ... or what little I had in the first place.

Sisterly love x 2

Yes I survived Friday 13th... busy but just another normal day at the office to be honest. Now Saturday was the killer ... Got a wedding to go to in May and promised my sister I would go clothes shopping with her. Went down to Rayner's Lane, checked out one shop there and found a black salwaar chemise ... yes I know I already have enough black suits ... but I couldn't find anything else ... Vertigo managed to find two suits she liked and just as she was changing back into her own clothes I managed to find a beautiful mint embroidered langha ... and in a moment of madness I ran to the changing room and told her to try it on. It looked great so I persuaded her to buy it. At the till and despite a lot a head shaking, Auntie Fixed Price pointing at all the signs round the shop and cries of "My boss will kill me" we managed to get a discount.

Next stop Ealing Road and Vertigo managed to buy yet another suit without any discount this time and I began to get disheartened as I couldn't find anything I liked (and that fit me!) ... By this point Cream is on the phone asking us where we are and as the afternoon drags on I realise I'm not going to find anything. Bugger me for being so nice and giving that suit to Vertigo!

Vertigo promises not to buy any more suits as she now has three but still decided to try on another two for good measure. As she heads towards the cashtill I try to remind her but the eavesdropping shopowner dashes over before I can persuade her otherwise. Despite his previous good hearing he can't seem to hear us properly when we ask for a couple of quid off. It's late by now and having lost the will to live I call it quits.

Got a call from Vertigo today, who has decided that she don't like the minty number now, and offers to sell it to me ... "I suppose I get it at a discounted rate seeing as we are family and you've tried it on twice already!"

"No sorry" she replies "fixed price."

What are you doing tomorrow?

It's Friday 13th tomorrow ... you know the day when axe murderers rise from the depths and set upon teenagers, usually those engaging in sinful nocturnal activities.

I asked around at work to see who was superstitious and someone replied ... "Friday 13th ... every bloody day here is Friday 13th!!"

Rub it in! Or you'll get the hose again.

Mentioned the Al-Jazeera report to Dad tonight and he started reminiscing.

Apparently the local "MI5" building was very close to his home in Lahore. This was where carefully selected citizens assisted the Police with their enquiries. He said these lucky buggers were usually treated to a couple of nights free accomodation as well ... in an old empty well in the basement of the building (Silence of the Lambs style). Usually strung up from their ankles. Strangely enough, most people turned down the offer to "sleep on it" and were most forthcoming with any information that they had.

I did ask Dad how he knew of this and whether he had experienced it first hand but he just smiled and winked ...