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I’m feeling rather jittery today, Dear Reader. Number 2 Son has gone to That London for two days on a college trip, and I’m not happy. I sent him off with warnings about talking to anyone strange, or anyone at all, unless they had a Yorkshire accent when they could, possibly, be trusted. I warned him about traffic, told to him look left and right before crossing the road. He just laughed, completely unfazed by the whole thing, which is natural I suppose. Teenagers think they are immortal, it’s only when you become a parent that you realise just how dangerous the world can be. I know that in the great scheme of things, That London is a pretty safe place to visit, and Londoners live there quite happily. But, that is when my little boy isn’t there. Now, it seems like a hotbed of criminals and loons. Of course, we have criminals and loons in Yorkshire too, but in this tiny corner, the biggest crime wave in years was a spate of bicycle thefts, and our local loon is a harmless soul of the eccentrically odd variety. Objectively, I realise that 8 million people live in London, and the vast majority of them get through each and every day without being murdered, kidnapped or run over, but, still I worry. I sympathise deeply with the parents of war reporters, soldiers, aid workers etc. How do they sleep? I honestly think, that if any of my offspring took up such a profession, I would have to go to work with them. If I stayed at home, I would go slowly mad with worry, and they would return to find me sitting under the table saying bibble, bibble.

On a more cheery note, while rummaging through a cupboard looking for the manual for my CD writer, I found what is possibly the very first t’internet magazine I ever bought. Dating from March 2000, it advises us that MP3 players are a great bargain at only £243! It suggests we update our computers with the latest add ons, dvd players and speakers . . . sound, from a computer, whatever next? My favourite article was the in depth guide to setting up and using Outlook Express. As a t’internet newbie, I remember reading this with great fascination. For so many years OE had been sitting on my hard drive unused, now I knew that it was VERY IMPORTANT, and INCREDIBLY USEFUL. Of course, I soon realised that OE is not at all useful, and that anyone with any sense downloads another client or reads their email on the web.

And finally, if you look under Blogging Bits on the right, you will see that this blog is now inter-galactic. Yes, Dear Reader, it has been sent into space. I’m not sure if they really send blogs into space, it may just be hype, who knows. One last thing, Marvel Comics are trying to trademark the phrase super hero, and it has been suggested (as a retaliation against this arrogance) that from now on, we call all Marvel super heroes, underwear perverts. I say do this anyway, ’cause quite frankly there is something a little odd about grown men who stride/swing/fly about in skin tight spandex. I don’t care if they are saving the world, it’s still weird.

Listening to: Radio 4

In yesterday’s post I mentioned my extreme dislike for housework, and it seems I’m not alone. There was a 100% increase in the number of comments from people stating that they felt the same. OK, that actually translates as two comments instead of one, but at least it is an increase. Statistics never lie, they just mislead you occasionally. Knowing that there were others out there who felt the same, today I will share with you my reminiscences of the time I attempted to become a domestic Goddess.

A few years ago, following a suggestion from an online friend, I signed up for a thing called Flylady This is a group/organisation/cult which offers assistance to the housework reluctant. The idea is, they send you regular reminders, tips and advice to help you get into a routine and even (can this be possible) enjoy it. In theory it sounded great, but from the word go I realised Flylady and I were going to have problems. For some reason, she insisted on calling new members Flybabies. Call me pedantic, but putting the words ‘fly’ and ‘baby’ together conjures up an image of maggots, which aren’t a thing I like to be equated with. Deciding that maybe this was just a little quirk of my own I overlooked the maggot label, and set out on my quest for domestic perfection. Step one was to shine my sink, which seemed a little basic, but was easy to do. However, from there onwards it was a bit of a downhill slide.

The reminders came in everyday; daily tasks, weekly tasks, inspirational tales of other (maggots) ‘flybabies’ who had revolutionised their households; all designed to motivate and inspire one into leaping up and tackling the dusting with gusto. Unfortunately, I have a stubborn streak a mile wide; instead of feeling inspired and motivated, I began to feel rather like a teenager who is being lectured by a particularly bossy aunt.

Before I go on: One little tip I found particularly hard to understand and obey was the notion of wearing lace up shoes. Why? Because, the act of putting on, and lacing said shoes is a good way of motivating oneself in the morning. Umm, no it’s not. Really, it takes more than lacing up a pair of shoes to get me started in the morning. In addition, of all the many pairs of shoes I own, not one comes equipped with laces. I haven’t worn lace up shoes since I was at primary school, and really, have no intention doing so again.

At this point, it seemed a good idea to try to seek the support of other ‘flybabies’, so I headed for the forums, where I discovered far from my reaction being the norm, I was obviously a bit of a weirdo. If the scheme wasn’t working it was because I wasn’t doing it right. The level of devotion was astonishing and I left feel perplexed and bewildered. Could it possibly be me?

To cut a long story short, I stuck at for three more days. By day six, I realised I was actually doing less housework not more. Each and every time I saw a Flylady email I had to stifle to urge to whine’ oh, but that is so unfair’. I was beginning to hate this woman who seemed to assume I spent my days sitting around waiting for her instructions. To me she had become a laced-up shoe wearing, sink shining ogre; worse than a bossy aunt, who would at least treat you on your birthday. All Flylady did was call me a maggot (very rude) and find extra work for me.

To be fair, I wasn’t ‘flybaby’ material and didn’t really want to be. Yes, I wanted to find ways to make the household jobs easier, but I didn’t want to be that woman with the gleaming doorstep and the shimmering white net curtains. When I’m lying on my death bed looking back at my life, those are not the things that are going to make me feel that it was a life worth living.

Listening to: nothing, it’s very quiet

The new look seems to be holding together ok, although, I will have to do some style sheet tinkering because there are a couple of bugs, and it isn’t displaying the same in all browsers. Curse browser incompatibility. You know, I am starting to seriously dislike the folk who make browsers. Would it really be so hard to make them all do the same thing? Are we all the subject of some kind of computer geek joke? Hmm, I think we may be. I imagine they all get together and think of ways to make life hard for anyone who dares to consider designing a webpage. I’m sure the IE guys laugh their pants off at the thought of us all trying to deal with ‘that’ width problem. The Firefox chaps are more subtle, you think it is all working ok, then you realise your borders are buggered. Well, I’m miffed, and should I ever encounter any of these humorous little pixies in the flesh, I will kick them in the shins. So there!

Still on the subject of webpages, Number 3 Son has asked me to teach him some HTML. My little heart filled with pride, my boy, a code monkey, what more could any Mother want? So, now I need to sit down and work on some tutorials, which is actually pretty daunting. When you have been doing something for a while, it kind of becomes second nature, and it can be hard to take a step back and explain exactly how you do it. Thinking back to the course I took doesn’t really help much because I learnt straight HTML, and a little CSS. The world has moved on since then, and now it’s XHTML, and CSS is a major part of the whole design of a page. Oh well, I’m sure I’ll get there eventually, and it will be nice to have a member of the family whose eyes don’t glaze over when I mention any of the above.

Gordon Brown is unveiling the Budget on Wednesday. I was rather surprised to hear a chap on tv saying that this budget will be a boring one. Well I for one won’t be watching it, who wants a boring budget after all those riveting, thrill a minute budgets we have seen in the past. Who can forget the time Old Gordy had us rolling on the floor as he told us he would be putting a penny on the price of a pint of beer. Or the time we were sitting on the edge of our seats as he revealed his plans for capital gains tax. Oh, what fun.

Well, Dear Reader, I must away and do the housework thang. Yuck, I hate housework, it is truly awful, and if I believed in the concept of Satan I would say it was his idea. You know, one group of people who really puzzle me are those who claim they actually enjoy cleaning and scrubbing and gouging gunk out of grouting. I say claim, because I don’t believe anyone really likes doing those jobs they just say they do, and really they should get out more. Housework is soul destroying, you do it, and then the next day it needs doing again. How can that be enjoyable?

Listening to: the washing machine making Concorde-esque noises, think it’s time for a new one

Just a quick post to let you know that you have come to the right place, I’ve given the place the make over I have been threatening for so long. Hopefully, it should work better than the last one, I have tested it in several browsers, but please let me know if you find any problems.

OK, that’s it, enjoy the rest of Sunday

I have a secret to tell you, but be warned it’s not for the easily queasy. If you fall into this category Dear Reader, skip ahead a paragraph. OK, squeamish types gone? I’ll continue. Last night, Mr Blogs made us both a nice cup of tea, at least mine was nice, he complained his tasted funny. As he left the room to pour it away, I realised why. He had made his tea in the cup I use to measure the dog food. I haven’t told him, but I am watching him carefully, so far he hasn’t complained of feeling ill, or having a wet nose and glossy coat. This isn’t his first close encounter with pet related objects. About six months ago, the silly man, unable to find a comb, decided to use a brush he found on top of the washing machine. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a human brush, it was the cats.

OK squeamish folk can look again. Although, the subject of this section probably won’t appeal either. I watched Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later on Channel 4 last night, pretty well the only zombie film I like. I mean lets face it, zombies are one of the more useless movie monsters, they shuffle everywhere and bits fall off. Ooh, how scary is that? Walk at a brisk pace and you can leave them for dead (ho ho) The 28DL zombies are different, (in fact they aren’t even dead but infected with a virus which cause it’s sufferers to feel uncontrollable rage) and they race along like Olympic sprinters. I won’t go into too much detail in case you haven’t seen it, but the story centres around a group of survivors one of whom (Cillian Murphy) has just woken from a 28 day coma, only to find that everything he knew and relied upon is gone, and that he is now forced to make decisions which are contrary to his basic sense of humanity in order to survive. Look out for a wonderful performance from Christopher (Doctor Who) Eccleston, as the army major who has lost his marbles along with control of his squad. This is actually quite an intelligent film which does more then just scare it’s audience. In addition to providing moments that make you go aargh, it also raises interesting questions about human relationships, our reliance on modern technology, and the nature of anger.

On a lighter note, I saw this meme on Kitchen Witch’s blog, and thought I would have a go. If nothing else it will give you all the opportunity to get to know a bit more about me.

What was I doing ten years ago?

At college as a mature student (oh yes, so very mature) doing the A’Levels I should have done when I first left school, instead of being completely impractical and going to art college. I had just met Mr Blogs, so we were probably skipping through tulips, hand in hand, with a dreamy look in our eyes. Well maybe.

What was I doing one year ago?

Wondering if being a freelance writer was really all that good an idea. Oh, and decorating the bathroom.

Five snacks I couldn’t live without

Marmite on toast, cheese and ham toasties, and three pieces of cake, any sort, I just like cake.

Five songs to which you know all the lyrics

Somewhere Over the Rainbow (blush)
You’ll Never Walk Alone (blush again)
The theme tune to Postman Pat (this is getting embarrassing)
Teen Spirit by Nirvana (now that’s a bit better)
Stairway to Heaven by Led Zep (I also know the meaning of the song)

Five things I’d do if I was a millionaire

I’d like to say I’d buy amazingly interesting and frivolous things, but I wouldn’t. When it comes to money I make Monica from friends look irresponsible. So, I’d probably put it all in a high interest savings account. I would buy things with the interest though, probably shoes, boots, more shoes, and some nice smellies.

Five things I like doing

Eating, gardening, reading, listening to music, sleeping

Five things I’d never wear again

Leggings (definitely a case of comfort over style)
White shoes ( urrgh)
Those low waisted jeans (I think I’m deformed because these are supposedly the perfect style for women, but they don’t fit me at all. Wretched things constantly slide down, which is very problematic, especially if you are walking home from the shops with bags in both hands)
Dungarees (big in the 80s, and a great equaliser, no matter what shape you were you looked bad in them)
Pleated Skirts (a quick and easy way to make your bum look three times it’s actual size)

Five favourite toys

My food processor/blender thingy (got it at Christmas and it’s very useful)
My HTML editor ( I like to code by hand, but his has useful little buttons to make repetitive code quicker)
My Walkman ( I bought this just before the rest of the planet turned to MP3 players, but I don’t care if it is naff. It has a CD and a radio, and you can plug it into speakers.)
My PC (He is called Schuey and is very useful and versatile)
Mr Blogs ( and not just because of the obvious, he really is jolly good fun and does a fine impression of Sean Connery)

And finally, another online quiz.

Listening to: birds, wow Spring must be nearly here, they really are loud today.