postaweek2011

Dieting, baby Beckham and Twitter…

/ Dee / 2 Comments

I have always been a fan of actress Pauline Quirke and so was delighted to see her new look in the paper the other day.  Losing weight is not easy.  I have tried various diets at different times of my life and, like everyone else who has ever dieted, find that some work, some don’t. I have never been a fan of the cabbage soup diet – very anti social, or the banana diet, very binding.  Likewise shakes and snacks, they don’t do it for me either. Pauline followed the LighterLife plan and lost 6 stone in weight, the results speak for themselves.  I think she looks amazing.

                                                                  

The Dukan Diet has also been in the press lately and it does looks interesting; and although health experts say we should eat from each food group each day in moderation, I don’t think foregoing carbs for a few days can do much harm.  As you get older any excess weight becomes difficult to shift, so while I’m not sure about following the programme long-term, for a kick-start it should be ideal.

 I was intrigued by the names of baby Beckham.  Harper, although very different I can at least understand, but Seven…….  It has been explained in different ways but seemingly the baby was born just after 7 in the 7th month of the year and David played at number 7 …… if this catches on then my eldest son will have to change his name to Four, following the same reasoning as above.

 Lastly Twitter – a while ago I wrote a post about Twitter and whether to tweet or not.  Since then I have to say I have become quite hooked.  I exchange tweets with some great people and have found that if you strip away the celebrity chit-chat, underneath there is a seriously free marketing and PR tool.  I have watched as businesses have attracted more and more followers by selective tweeting about what they, grow, sell, produce, make, let, buy etc.  And it has also become a sort of advice directory, just post a tweet asking for help or advice on almost anything and before you know it, replies come flooding in. Charities seem to have benefited too and there are people on twitter who work tirelessly to retweet appeals for help with raising money or to publicise new campaigns.

Amongst other things it has renewed my faith in human nature. People still want to help people.

 

 

Around the UK in 70 Days

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The journey starts here........

So, we have all had the chance to apply for tickets to the 2012 Olympic Games in London, and are now waiting and watching our bank accounts to see if we  have been lucky and hit this particular ‘jackpot’.

I’m really not sure what I think of this ‘lottery’ for tickets and paying almost a year in advance – great marketing ploy by the way Lord Coe, but I am  really interested to know if the man interviewed on radio yesterday gets all the tickets he has applied for. He has applied for practically every final,  plus the opening and closing ceremonies on the basis that he won’t get everything he has asked for.  Stranger things have happened….. hope he has a few thousand pounds spare.

If you have not been lucky enough to get any tickets, but would still like to savour the ‘Olympic Experience’ , how about following the progress of the Olympic Torch?  It will be arriving at Land’s End on 19 May 2012 and will travel 8,000 miles round various towns, cities and islands of the UK before entering the Olympic Arena in London 70 days later, on Friday 27 July 2012.

The organisers  are now on the look out for 8,000 ‘inspirational torch bearers, who between them will bring the torch to within a one-hour  journey for 95% of the population of the UK. So that ‘s something else you can put your name down for, if you feel that way inclined.

To keep up to date with all the news on this journey round the UK visit the BBC’s website at http://www.bbc.co.uk/

Royal Wedding – THE Dress

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The streets were lined with cheering crowds; the problems of recent months seemed forgotten as everyone was swept along by the spectacle of this royal wedding. The crowds were in good humour, people laughed and chatted together while waiting to see the Princes leave Clarence House, the Royal Family leave in procession from Buckingham Palace, but most important of all, waiting for that first glimpse of Catherine Middleton in The Dress.

And she didn’t disappoint!

She looked absolutely stunning in her wedding dress, designed by Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen. Poised and elegant, she looked radiant; smiling and waving to the crowds of well wishers who cheered her on her way to Westminster Abbey and her marriage to Prince William.

They seemed so happy and relaxed as they left the Abbey after the service and delighted the crowds with not one, but two kisses on the balcony of Buckingham Palace.

They look good together and are obviously very much in love, but there is also a sureness and certainty about them that seems somehow very reassuring. I wish them all the happiness in the world as they start their married life together in the full glare of the world’s media.

Revisiting my Dream House

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This morning for some reason I can’t explain, I took a detour from my usual route into work. Most days I take the same route and my journey passes almost as though the car is on auto-pilot, although I like to think I am still in charge!

Today though, I found myself driving past my dream house.

I first saw this house in the late ‘80’s. The house was everything I had dreamt would be mine one day. The rooms were generous, with high ceilings and large windows, letting  in lots of light.  There was a large lawn with flower beds and trees at the back of the house. Behind a hedge,  there was a vegetable garden and a small greenhouse in the corner with tomatoes and cucumbers growing inside. Beyond that, was a rough area with a compost heap and a huge water-butt to collect the rainwater, for use in the garden.

My boys were quite young then and I could see them playing in the garden with their friends; climbing the trees and running around chasing each other, having lots of fun.

I imagined entertaining our friends there too, with barbecues on lazy summer evenings, relaxing and chatting together, while our children played. There were enough bedrooms for family and friends to stay for weekends or even longer and the hall was the perfect place for the Christmas tree. I could see it, lights twinkling, baubles shining, presents stacked beneath its boughs, waiting to welcome everyone to our home for Christmas.

My husband thought the house was too big; the gardens too time consuming and the work that would be needed on the building, daunting in the least. He couldn’t begin to see the potential that I saw that first day. Yes it would take time and money, and yes we would have to employ a builder, as neither of us is much good at DIY, but it would be worth it. We would have a home we would love.

We made an offer for the house, just below the asking price. “You never give them what they ask for first time,” my husband said when I begged him to give the owners the price they wanted. I was surprised how much I wanted this house.

But this was the time of gazumping. Prices jumped not by hundreds, but in some cases by thousands of pounds. And so it was for us. Our offer was rejected, so we offered the asking price, it was rejected again. We increased our offer and had it rejected yet again. We went as far as we could and after much anger and tears on my part, we realised that the house would not be ours.

We eventually found another house we liked and we have been there ever since. It is quite old and has lots of similar features, a beautiful garden that the family enjoy, but for me it has never had that certain charm that the other house had.

Today, as I stood and looked at the house from across the road, I thought it looked tired. The windows had not been replaced and now were badly in need of a coat of paint. One of the gates had come of its’ hinges and was hanging at an awkward angle. The hedge, once so neatly trimmed, was overgrown and parts of it trailing on the pavement. It had a look of neglect about it that I found upsetting.

As I got back in my car, an elderly man came round the corner with a newspaper under his arm. He walked slowly towards the house. I watched as he stopped and stared at the gate, before going in through the front door. Surely he wasn’t the same, rather dapper professor, who had taken us round his home all those years ago, pointing out his favourite flowers and proudly showing us round his greenhouse?

He was about the right age. But if it was him, what happened 25 years ago? Why did the sale fall through? Did the owners change their mind? I’ll probably never know.

I felt quite sad for a moment, but then very annoyed with myself. I have been very lucky. I have a happy, healthy family, good friends and a very nice home. I drove off hoping that, regardless of whatever had happened all those year ago, the old professor had been happy, living in my dream house.

More on the new man, how long will it last??

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Yesterday, my youngest son and his wife arrived with new daughter sleeping pecefully, and announced that they had come to take Grannie and Grandad to the park! So, I have a name at last! I was allowed to push the new pram carrying my youngest granddaughter and, like a learner driver I set off with great caution.

It was a lovely day; the sky a light, blue, without a cloud, the air crisp and clear with the promise of spring just around the corner.

We walked on; dad and grandad taking the lead, with mum and grannie bringing up the rear with the pram. I watched my son and his father walking ahead, almost shoulder to shoulder and remembered how many times we had walked this route in the past, to shout encouragement at football matches and tennis games, now we were walking with his baby daughter, well wrapped up and asleep in her new pram.

On we walked. Through the park, down by the river, along the bank then up and and across the little renovated metal bridge to the tea rooms on the other side. Lots of folk had taken advantage of the weather and were out with their dogs and bikes and children, all drawn like magnets to the tea rooms for refreshment and, in my case, a sit down!

After tea and a large slice of Victoria Sponge, (fortification for the walk home you understand) we set off back. The baby had woken and was due to be fed. So we quickened our pace. It was at this point that I somehow managed to pull a muscle in my calf. My son relieved me of pram duty and I sat for a while on a low wall, massaging my leg. The baby was very annoyed with us by this stage, so the little family walked ahead, leaving grannie and grandad to follow behind.

Lying in the bath this morning, trying to ease the pulled muscle in my leg, I became aware of a drum-drum-drum noise coming from somewhere nearby. It was similar to the noise a car makes going over ridges in the road and I wondered if perhaps our “dawn chorus” of feathered friends, at odds with losing an hour of sleep, were doing some sort of tap dance on the roof in protest! Slowly I realised it was coming from the shower room next door. My husband was cleaning the tiles after his shower and the noise was made by the squidgy blade cleaner, running over the grouting as it moved from tile to tile!

I lay back and smiled, he really has been listening.

But I wonder how long it will last.

A new man?

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“What do you think of the wine?”
“Mm it’s not bad. It will be better when it’s warmed up a bit though.”
“Ah well, usually I’d agree with you, but not this time. This wine can be drunk straight after opening.”
“Well, I prefer my red wine at room temperature.”

A slight pause ensues. He is trying very hard to be nice to me. I feel annoyed with myself. This meal is a complete surprise and is very welcome. I have been attending a conference for two days; in the normal way of things I would return home, we would make a little small talk about his days and my days, I would fuss over the dog, then shower and change and make dinner. But not tonight! Tonight I am seated in a very nice restaurant, waiting for my red wine to warm up a little and recovering from the shock of his greeting, “When you are showered and changed, I am taking you out”.

My husband is not a house husband. He has told me this on many occasions so it must be true. Although he is retired now from his former high-powered job and has time to follow his hobbies, visit friends, walk the dog, watch tv, he sees no reason to add shopping, cooking or helping with the housework to his activities. My sister says that it’s an ‘age thing’. There is an age gap, but not a generation!

I watch him watching cookery programmes and see his obvious delight and appreciation in food well cooked and nicely presented. If I happen to leave the room, I am used to his shout of, ‘You need to come and see this, this looks great and not too much messing around’, as if he intends to make the dish himself some time soon.

I have thrown things at him in the past but to no avail.

When I came home a couple of weeks ago, from a meeting in London, I sat him down and told him we needed to have a serious conversation. And we did. I asked if he would please try and help more; if he noticed that we were out of bread, toilet rolls, teabags, coffee, whatever, it would be a great help if he’d go and buy what we needed when he was out next, and not leave messages on my mobile telling me what we were short of, and asking if I could collect them on my way home!

I also asked him if he remembered the times a few years ago, when he used to get home after a few stressful days away; the lovely dinner waiting for him, how he could just relax and unwind, even nod off in the chair……..

A few quiet, thoughtful days followed. Later in the week, I noticed a different type of bread left out on the work surface. I opened my mouth and closed it again very quickly. Bread is bread, more or less I decided, and perhaps he liked this brand better than the one I usually buy. I eat very little bread. I put it away and said nothing.

A few days later, a different brand of teabags appeared. I don’t drink tea, but wondered why he had chosen this brand. My curiosity got the better of me and I asked him. He told me that when he went out to buy the bread, he was amazed at all the different varieties and thought he would try something different. He gave the same reason for the choice of teabags, and also said that he fully intended buying yet another brand when these were finished.

He added that although he had listened and understood what I was getting at, he would have a problem when it came to replacing the coffee. He doesn’t drink coffee. Would it be alright if he just bought the same brand again?

I said that would be perfect.