Category: Blog

I’m lucky enough to be married to a wizard. He often comes home from work and tries to explain to me why the different potions he mixed in his cauldron turned into magical roof coatings, but the science part of my brain is under-developed and it quickly starts to melt, so he sighs and agrees “yes it’s magic.”

I’d love to be a wizard. What must it be like to open kitchen cupboards and fridges, take random pieces of food and wizardy-wizardy-woo them into a fabulous meal?

To me, my lack of scientific knowledge means nothing is impossible and I’m sure that’s the first step to being a wizard. Once upon a time, simple humans thought once you’d seen something happen, you’d never be able to see it again. Then some bright wizard invented film! A couple of hundred years ago, we couldn’t imagine travelling from Edinburgh to London in less than 4 weeks and then some clever wizard came along and invented the train. Now it’s only about four hours. Thanks to SpaceX there’s a strong chance we could be reaching Sydney in that time in the not too distant future!

Therefore, I think it is perfectly feasible that one day, people will be able to see and hear things that happened in the past, possibly hundreds of years ago, before recording equipment had been invented. I’m convinced that everything we say near wood or stone is somehow imprinted into the natural material and we just need to find a way of extracting that information, then we’ll be able to hear what the cavemen were saying, when they were carving buffalo pictures into the cave walls.

This causes me a problem when I walk over the stone bridge in our town. I often use dry sarcasm (I know – the lowest sense of wit) when speaking. For example, when I was dropping my son off at school this morning, we were almost late because we hit every red light. After one set I commented “how dare that woman use the traffic lights to keep her little child safe as she crosses the road – doesn’t she know we need to get to school?” Then I realised we were driving over the stone bridge so I had to say out loud “sorry – just a pathetic attempt at humour”.

My son thinks I’m a little odd, but in a hundred or thousand years, he’ll realise I was right. Thanks to a future wizard, we’ll be able to eve’s drop on Dick Turpin’s gang as they hid in the Royal Forest of Waltham and we’ll be able to watch dinosaurs making their dens in caves.  Nothing is impossible. Bookmark this blog – I know I’m right!

My friend Daniela gave me a “story inspiration slip” and told me to write a 500 words story. The slip said “Your office friend thinks he is a superhero. Everyone in the office knows but has to pretend they don’t know”. I don’t think I’ll win any prizes, but it was good for a giggle:

The bank’s office party is about to start. Several workers are chatting and sipping drinks. Others stand around awkwardly, eyeing the buffet. Music starts, but nobody wants to be the first to dance. Then Dave, The-Disco-Rave appears in the middle of the dance floor. Nobody sees him walk on. He’s just suddenly there, in his trademark pose: left leg straight, right leg forwards, one hand on hip, the other pointing up. He’s wearing an Afro wig, orange star-shaped glasses and open-necked white shirt revealing a huge medallion. Flowered flares and sparkly silver platform boots complete his outfit. Everyone knows it’s Dave from accounts, but he believes he’s unrecognisable with his disguise. He nods to the DJ who changes the track and Dave, The-Disco-Rave starts to wriggle and squirm his body in time to the music. The ice is broken; some join him on the dance floor, some help themselves to the buffet and everyone has a fabulous time.

Monday morning back at work, the office workers are still in good spirits reminiscing what a wonderful time they’d had. A few start to laugh about Dave, The-Disco-Rave. One particularly unpleasant worker mocks Dave and he starts to feel sad. As more people begin to laugh at him he becomes upset and angry. The atmosphere in the office begins to change. Everyone seems to be quarrelling. Dave storms downstairs and glares at the cashiers. They start arguing with each other, the customers start shouting at the cashiers and two customers even start fighting.

Just then armed robbers burst into the bank, but there is already such commotion that nobody notices them. The police run in screaming for everyone to lie down on the floor, but they’re not heard above the racket. Customers are pushing and shoving each other. One old lady is swinging her walking stick above her head.

Then, in the middle of all the chaos, appears Dave, The-Disco-Rave in his trademark pose: left leg straight, right leg forwards, one hand on hip, the other pointing up. He’s wearing an Afro wig, orange star-shaped glasses and open-necked white shirt revealing a huge medallion. Flowered flares and sparkly silver platform boots complete his outfit.

A man notices him and stops to stare,  with his fist still bunched up ready to hit the man next to him. One by one, everyone stops, turns and stares at Dave, The-Disco-Rave. The crowd stand in stunned silence, then quietly at first, but quickly growing louder, a disco beat can be heard. Dave, The-Disco-Rave starts to wriggle and squirm his body in time to the music. The spectators start to tap their hands, then they start to move their feet. One by one, without knowing what they’re doing, they begin to dance to the rhythm of the music. The robbers twirl their guns above their heads, before sliding them harmlessly across the floor. Their bodies are jiving, although their faces still wear stunned expressions. They conga out of the door, and straight into the waiting police vans.

Here we are: the end of the school holidays. As I work in a school, I’m just as nervous and unhappy about going back as the students are. Not because I don’t like my job – to the contrary I love my job – but because I won’t be home relaxing anymore, and no matter how much you love your job, relaxing is always better. Isn’t it?

Well … here lies the problem, because I cannot relax without feeling guilty. I always feel as though I should be doing something. Now sometimes my guilty feeling when relaxing makes sense. Perhaps the house is a tip, the dog has his legs crossed and I haven’t started on the “To do List” of half a million little admin tasks I leave for the holidays.  Then I am in the “dark playground” as Professor Steve Peters calls it in his book “Mind Management”. (It’s on my “To do List” to finish reading.) The dark playground is when you cannot completely enjoy your relaxation time because there’s that nagging voice constantly in the back of your mind that you have other things you ought to be working on.

My problem is that that nagging voice is a complete and utter liar! Even when my house is shining spotlessly, the cupboards are full, no children are at risk of losing teeth, the dog’s chasing rabbits in his sleep, still that voice grinds on “shouldn’t you be doing something?”

“oh yes, perhaps you’re right. What should I be doing?”

“that thing”

“what thing”

“you know – that thing”

“no what thing? I’m sure you’re right but I can’t think what it is”

“I’m not going to tell you – you’ll have to work it out for yourself”

“it can’t be that important if I can’t remember it”

“but it might be”

“it’s not”

“well I’m not going to let you relax until you remember that thing and do it”

Then I start making things up to do and make a new list of “things” just to silence that nagging grinding voice!

Why is that? Why can’t I just relax? I like to blame my dad at this point. Or the government. But I can’t really. I think it’s just a habit. I’m always so busy that when I do find time to relax, it feels odd – doesn’t fit with my normal state so I get jittery and look to return to my normal state of frantic worry. I’m far happier there!

This is why I’m typing this blog at this time of night when I should be getting an early night ready to go back to school in the morning. I’ve been off work for more than a fortnight and not blogged. I feel guilty. As though there’s anyone out there, saying “that Rachel Coverdale hasn’t blogged for a while. I feel totally let down by her and my life is now ruined. It’s all her fault”. Well there you are imaginary person. I’ve blogged just for you.

So, job done, my intention now is to go to bed and have a peaceful night’s sleep. Who am I trying to kid? That annoying, grinding little voice is going to tell me that I MUST remember to do that thing as soon as I get to work tomorrow and I’ll lie awake all night wondering what that thing is and worrying that the school will be razed to the ground if I don’t remember what it is and get it done in time.

G’night all xx

 

 

When I was young, my mum used to buy the Readers Digest – I have no idea why when it was free in every doctor’s waiting room.  My favourite section was “Laughter is the Best Medicine” (which seems quite apt due to the aforementioned doctors’ waiting rooms).  This week has shown me just how true that saying is.  Ok, it cannot cure someone with a terminal illness – but neither can medicine, so you might as well die laughing.

The other night I received a late-night phone call from a sobbing friend. She works shifts and this week her husband is working away.  After feeding her twin three-year-old boys, she sat them in the living room to watch a Christmas film while she quickly jumped in the bath.  Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, considering the hours she works, she fell asleep in the bath, waking up freezing cold a whole hour later.  She literally jumped out of the bath and ran downstairs starkers, knowing that something had gone terribly wrong.

This is what she saw:  The living room child gate was collapsed in the hallway. It had clearly put up a brave fight, but was now spread eagle and despondent on the cold tiled floor. Every previously wrapped Christmas present had been dragged from the dining room into the living room where they were piled up in the centre like the world’s most expensive bonfire. Some had their wrappers half torn and cast aside in disgust when revealing they only hid clothing.  Sweets, however had been mercilessly ripped open and little piles of sick lay testament to just how many had been gobbled down (and back up). Packed lunch paraphernalia had been brought in from the kitchen and the greedy gremlins had gorged on Pringles and Baby Belles.  Christmas baubles had been enthusiastically smashed, juice had been gratuitously sprayed across the sofa, curtains and carpet, and Christmas cards had been ripped and scattered like a snow blizzard.

We stayed talking on the phone for ages.  I sympathised, made suggestions, offered to come and help, but her sister had already promised to go round first thing in the morning.  The next day after work I called in to see how she was doing.  She was still really upset, so we sat down with a good old English cup o’ tea.  Then something strange happened.  She began to see the funny side of what had happened.  We realised that those two boys had just had the best party of their lives, ever.  Three years old and no grown ups to stop them from doing anything at all they wanted.  No rules!  We realised that they were no different to the rock stars of the 1970s and 1980s who traditionally trashed their hotel rooms, threw TVs out of the window and drove cars into swimming pools.  Those boys had had the best time of their lives.  We were creased up at the comparison and immediately made plans to include their escapades in their wedding speeches or at their 21^st birthdays.  By the end of the evening, we were both howling with laughter.

Make no mistake, my friend can’t wait for her husband to come home to share the load, but at least she can now laugh in the face of disaster and that makes it all better doesn’t it! 😊

I’m going to blog about my blogging journey (does that sound like I’m swearing?)

On deciding to enter the world of blogging, I have suddenly remembered that I am a technophobe.  This doesn’t bode well for setting up a website and blogging.  Facebook is about all I can manage and have managed since 2009.  Before that … nothing!  So typically me, I got very enthusiastic – told my husband, my children and my dog that I was going to be a blogger!  Yeah, ok so it was straight away pointed out to me that blogging is sooooo yesterday and I should be vlogging.  Well I don’t like the sound of my voice so blogging it is.

Step one complete, I moved onto step two – asking for blogging/website recommendations.  A couple of strangers on the internet seemed happy with WordPress and more importantly, assured me it was easy.  In my usual overenthusiastic style, I immediately signed up for it.  The website took my money and gave me lots of helpful instructions.  Well they would have been helpful, if I could have slowed my brain down, but suddenly I hit panic mode.  I read half a sentence and then jumped onto the next paragraph.  I read the first and last line of that paragraph but didn’t understand so I clicked on another link.  Within minutes I’d read part of everything the site had to offer and understood nothing.  Luckily, I remembered I hadn’t had a cup of coffee for several hours, or for at least half an hour so I shut down the computer and made myself a cuppa.  I’ll have another look at WordPress later.  When I’m calm…

The irony is I can’t post this, my very first blog, because I don’t know how to ☹

Psst … has it worked?