Fifty Shades of…. Yawn? Porn? I’ll decide!

Yes, here you go my opinion on everyone else’s opinion concerning Fifty Shades of Grey,  the notorious book by E.L James, which took the world by phenomenal proportions in 2011 and the subsequent film, which was released this past weekend.



Yes, I have read the books. No I have not seen the film, and neither will I, unless I am in my own home watching it on Blu-ray; I have no intention of going to see it in the cinema surrounded by strangers. I am not a prude, but I know what the story is about. WHY would I want to watch a film concerning BDSM, “vanilla sex” and light erotica anywhere other than at home?! Equally I have absolutely no problem with people who do chose to go to the cinema and watch the film, why you would want to go there on Valentine’s night bewilders me slightly, but hey each to their own.

What I DO have a problem with is people, on the news, in the newspapers, on the internet, in magazines, friends, acquaintances, presenters the television, the woman in the street, the man in the shop, all moaning about it, going on and on and on and on. If the story offends you, DON’T GO TO SEE THE FILM! If the story turns your stomach, DON’T GO TO SEE THE FILM! If you consider it porn, DON’T GO TO SEE IT!

For the love of God, please just stop moaning about it. It’s not as if this is a classic story, a childrens story a majority of us may have grown up with which has been manipulated, tweaked and completely changed by a film studio to make millions. No, this is a film which has been made purely because the book was such a complete and utter surprise hit with EVERYONE, women and men.

I myself also got caught up in the bubble of Christian Grey the summer of 2011. I can clearly remember standing in the playground at going home time, and noticing how almost everyone was talking about it in their own little friendship groups. Hands up, I did too! “What part were you up to? Have you got to that bit yet? I can’t put it down” But I wasn’t alone in the fact that nearly halfway through the second instalment, I got bored of all the sex. It became to frequent and “samey”. I wanted to read the story about how Anastasia and Christian got over various and sometimes bloody big hurdles, to be together, not necessarily keep reading about their sexual escapades.

When it was announced that a film was being made, I laughed with my friends and joked that we could have a girly night out, and attend the cinema together. I thought that I wouldn’t have a problem going to see it. I enjoyed the teaser trailer which was released last year. But as the release date got nearer such a fuss has been made about it, it’s turned me off the film altogether. My local Tesco had made a display within their underwear section for “Fifty Shades of Grey”. I saw that my local Peacocks store had made a window display for the film…….for me it is too much. It’s almost along the same lines as having Christmas advertised to me in August! Too much, too much, too much.

I enjoyed the books, a bit of escapism into a world where money is no object, desire is fraught with curiosity, lust and potential danger. I wasn’t alone in enjoying it. Admittedly I dare say that a many number of people read the book purely out curiosity, the books popularity soared by word-of-mouth and was dubbed “mummy-porn”,  I even know a few men who admitted to reading it to find out what the “fuss was all about, the wife is clearly enjoying it!”. Even so, all I seem to keep hearing over the last two days is people/media saying how rubbish the film is, slating it for various reasons, it’s not as good as the book; it’s not going to be is it?! If it was it would definitely be porn!

I will watch the film when it is released on Blu-ray. I will make up my own mind on whether the screenwriters have been successful in transposing the delicate and difficult story with its debatable sexual topic and putting it on the big-screen. If you find the film, the book, the topic of sexual tastes within the storyline uncomfortable and as some have been heard saying “dirty”, DON’T WATCH THE FILM. DON’T READ THE BOOK and please please please STOP moaning about it. If the film hasn’t lived up to your expectations, WAKE UP it is NOT PORN! But please people stop saying negative things about it – you along with all the those other establishments pushing the “Fifty Shades of Grey” brand have completely made me NOT want to watch the film, and I DO actually want to watch the film.

At the end of the day IT IS JUST A FILM. IT IS NOT REAL.

Thanks – Rant over.




Third time lucky

Me and my boy

Me and my boy – Summer 2012

This post was recently published on the blog of Emma from . A lovely blog by a lovely lady. Emma collated and published a large variety of birth stories. Thank you Emma, it was lots of fun and surprisingly emotional for me to sit and recall all the details of my third birth!  Below is my contribution to Emma’s blog.


My third baby was due on 24th August 2011. It has been a long hot summer and I was getting very uncomfortable. With my first two pregnancies the baby had arrived early; so at 39 +6 I was getting very bored of waiting. In the last 3 weeks I undertook a lot of walking, spicy food, raspberry tea and sex…NOTHING!
On the 23rd August, it started. I had just woofed down a plate of my homemade chilli, (with extra chilli), literally as soon as I had finished my last mouthful, the contractions started. Maybe the baby was fed up of me feeding it unnecessarily over-spiced meals. I was over the moon.
And oh boy did the contractions start coming! I know that with each pregnancy, labour usually is quicker; so as eager as a beaver, Hubby and I jumped in the car and drove to hospital (I had rung them first to advise I was en-route). I timed them using the clock in the car, and during the journey, they increased in length and got stronger, much stronger.
I know what you’re thinking. No I didn’t give birth in the car. That would be Hubby’s worst nightmare, and mine as he would be completely useless.
We made it to hospital, and were put in a room on the labour ward for observations. Typically, my contractions slowed! I was only 2cms dilated. But as this was my third pregnancy, they said I should stay and put me in a bed on the antenatal ward. Hubby was unceremoniously dismissed, and so at 2am(ish) he drove home.
The ward was as you would expect at 2am, dark and quiet – no babies in THIS ward. It was full of sleeping pregnant women, probably stocking up on all the sleep they knew they would forfeit once bundle of joy arrived. And I can’t blame them.
Unfortunately, I found this disturbing. I was given a bed at the end of the ward, next to a window with the curtains pulled around, and left. It didn’t occur to me until some weeks later, that I was not offered any kind of pain relief, paracetomol, gas and air. I had nothing, just a bottle of water, a pillow and a buzzer for the midwife. I lay there for what felt like hours and hours, writhing around, doing my deep breathing, taking sips of my now warm water, trying to keep in any kind of noise to prevent waking up the women who were not in pain. I was convinced that things must have progressed. I called the midwife two times, and on each time following an inspection, she whispered that I “was not dilated enough, I was doing well and try to relax”….!!!!! This is the worst thing to hear when you’re in pain, and alone in a dark ward full of sleeping mummas-to-be.
So I endured this torture on my own for what felt like an eternity, until finally I simply could not bear it anymore. For the third time, I buzzed for a midwife – they have the patience of a saint, truly they do! – and FINALLY following a third inspection, she looked at me and informed me I had gone up to 6cm dilated. “We’d better get you down to the labour ward, you’ve progressed quite quickly.” AT LAST!
I don’t recall much of the wheelchair trip down in the lift. I don’t remember being helped onto the bed, and I certainly don’t remember having those horrible itchy uncomfortable oversized elastic-band-type products being strapped around my tight and contracting belly. I bloody hate those things. They don’t help my mood during labour one bit. They get in the way, and are like wearing a bra in bed as far as I am concerned. I DO remember telling everyone and anyone who was within earshot that I had requested an epidural. It was in my birth-plan, so I must absolutely must have one. For everyone else’s safety and wellbeing I must have an epidural. I was not prepared to not have one. It was not even a possibility. I put my hands up, I am a wimp with labour pain, but I also turn into a complete and unreasonable ogre. I swear like a sailor. I am not one of these ladies who can sail through (no pun intended) labour looking lovely and serene, smiling, enjoying and embracing the pain. Not me. I want drugs. Don’t care what type, but after a certain point of the labour I do not want to feel anything. They invented pain relief for women just like me!
So at around 6am(ish), epidural plugged in, belly strapped up, midwife positioned in the corner writing up her notes, Hubby walks in, clearly in a state of excitement and trepidation.
And so the waiting and the vomiting began….my labour slowed right down, thanks to the epidural. It plodded along at a very boring and frustrating rate. So much so that I had a change of midwife three times! But all were absolutely lovely.
You have noted I made mention of vomiting….yes I did. It turns out that epidural makes me sick, literally. Throughout my entire labour I was unable to keep anything down. The only thing that kept me going was fruit polos. I sucked them to death, desperate for something. Was I jealous when Hubby walked back in from the hospital restaurant having just had his dinner, a curry? No, not at all. I was happy for him to have enjoyed something to eat. He needs to keep his energy up. After all a man who is hungry is nearly as grumpy a woman in labour.
Time ticked on; it continued raining; we lost count of the amount of the cardboard sick bowls which had been disposed of; I lost count of how many doctors, registrars, students had all inspected my nether-regions; Hubby had been sent down to the hospital shop at least twice to re-stock my fruit polos; texts were sent advising still no baby……oh my god it didn’t want to come out. Clearly I was destined to be pregnant, strapped up, drugged up and throwing up forever!
At around 6.45pm, the midwives (there were two with us at this point), left the room for a teabreak. They deserved and needed one. I was giving Hubby instructions and about to send him out to get something – I can’t remember what for – but I felt another bought of sickness coming. “Sick bowl” I hollered. This was the worst lot of retching I had (apologies for going into details), I felt like my ribs were about to pop out of my throat. I had nothing to bring up, but continued violently retching over and over. Hubby, bless him, stood there holding the bowl like a trooper.
I didn’t think anything of it, this had been happening ALL DAY, but I did feel a bit tight down below between my legs. I put my hand down to have a feel……I had wretched so much I had pushed baby’s head out! Oops! It was at that point the midwives came back in. And it was all go. The button was pushed and in flew more midwives; my body then chose at that point to start retching again. This of course, made the rest of the baby pop out too!
Baby boy made his unique appearance at 7.07pm on 24th August, his due date! I am sure that the midwives won’t forget that birth, and I will take get joy in reliving the experience to my Son when he is older.

Hello stranger…

It’s been a while since I posted anything. What can I say it’s been a whirlwind in our house in the last few months. My day to day life seems to have gotten so busy, finding the time and sometimes having the energy to have a shower is a miracle, let alone to sit down and write anything.

Christmas has well and truly been packed away. The tree went back in its falling-to-bits box (We don’t have a real one – maybe one day); the fairy lights put away all nice, tidy and not tangled up although, I am sure the un-Christmas fairy gets top marks for sneaking in during the year and undoing all my good work, tying them in complete knots and therefore putting me in a foul mood when that time of year comes around again; the left over wrapping paper has been put away ready to re-use for next time, but I can never remember where I put it so somewhere in my house I have at least three years worth of Christmas wrapping paper; the Christmas chocolates has nearly all been eaten; credit card bill has been received; the mountain of rubbish bags have been collected; the Christmas booze has been drunk, nearly.

We are now on day one of the second week back at school/work. The first week was a long one. Hearing that alarm clock go off on the Monday morning was quite possibly the worst noise in the entire world. My muddled and groggy brain simply could not function. I was convinced that I had got the days mixed up. Unfortunately it was when the Husband stomped into the bedroom, dripping from his shower and spraying his deodorant, that I realised just how wrong I was. It was 5.35am and time to get up, throw on some frankly disturbing clothes – good job it’s dark – and drive Husband to catch his 6.03 train.
Coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee the voices in my head were hollering. I would need it by the bucketful today!

I usually creep around to get myself dressed once I am back to avoid waking up the rugrats. You simply do not realise just how noisy you can be when putting on foundation and eyeliner! There is nothing worse than trying to make myself resemble anything other than human when there are 3 children; grumpy, hungry, ratty, loud, arguing, demanding, whining, zombie-like children around. That was not the case on this morning however. After two weeks of not having to get up early and going to bed a bit-too-late, they were well and truly still on school christmas holiday mode. They were not getting up. No sooner had I pulled the various duvets from them and turned around, they had pulled it back again. Oh lordy it was a struggle.
I begged, played along, moaned, shouted, bribed, tickled, I did everything, short of dragging them by their hair, they were NOT getting up. In the end it was the (empty) threat of all their new Christmas toys being put in the bin that got them out of bed.

I can only assume that every parent had the same struggle I encountered on that first school morning of 2014.

But….on this, the second school week of the year, you would not think that I had the same 3 children in my house. All 3 were up and causing havoc just after 6am today.

Thumbs up to Summer 2013

The school holidays are officially over *sad face* and we are now fully back to routine and alarm clocks, packed lunches, school uniform, after school clubs, school run morning rush, “have you remembered your *insert required object here*?”, early morning squabbles. You know the usual things. The things that can easily be forgotten when the holiday switch is turned ON.

But turning the holiday switch to OFF is much harder especially when the summer holidays have been so completely lovely.

It went too quickly, way too quickly – as good times always do. We haven’t had an actual “holiday” this year. I’m talking about a real abroad packing suitcases type of holiday. A spending numerous weeks getting prepared, writing lists, organising pet care, sorting out passports, foreign currency, travellers cheques, buying new clothes, sun-cream, washing, ironing, supervising the hand luggage packing, is transport/transfer booked, leaving travel details with relatives, arguing about which entertainment products the kids can take, sorting out the chargers for the phones, does the mobile work abroad?, having the “how many pairs of shoes do you need?” conversation with the Husband, (and that’s all before we’ve even left the house) type of holiday.

Kids and Husband playing Lego

Kids and Husband playing Lego

No, we’ve had a holiday at home this year. And what a fabulous holiday. Scorching gorgeous sunburny temperatures, almost every day. A summer filled with days in the garden using the paddling pool (and probably doubling our water bills – sorry Husband), crabbing down at the back-waters (not necessarily my cup of tea, but the kids loved it!), beach trips (we are very lucky to live 2 minutes from the beach, but it hasn’t stopped me lusting after a beach hut *note to self must win the lottery*), picnics in the garden/park, visits to the Suffolk Owl Sanctuary (fabulous fabulous fabulous) more picnics and sun there, Lego playing (still undecided on whether finding the big box of Lego was actually a good idea – it hurts when you stand on it – but thoroughly enjoyed watching everyone (Husband, 20 year old s/son, L – 9y/o, T – 4 y/o and G – 2y/o) sitting around on the lounge floor building Lego houses – no telly just background music and conversation).

We even went across the Channel and spent an utterly fabulous day in Le Touquet, France. This required Yours Truly to be very brave – we went via ferry from Dover to Calais – I DON’T DO boats, of any kind;  I get seasick and have a real fear of the sea. I put this to one side however, so that the kids could experience it. They loved it and although I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it, I am glad I did it.

Kids bundled in car on way to ferry in Pjs

Kids bundled in car on way to ferry in Pjs

Beach at Le Touquet, France

Beach at Le Touquet, France

Husband and Kids - Le Touquet

Husband and Kids – Le Touquet

We had an early start; leaving our house at 3am to catch the 6.40am ferry from Dover. The kids found being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night and bundled into the car still wearing their PJs very exciting. Did they fall back to sleep? Erm, a big fat NO on that one. In fact it was chat chat chat all the way to the boat. Did I mind? Not in the slightest, I had a flask of very strong coffee to hand. And I’m pleased to report that I survived the ferry crossing.

Our day in Le Touquet was absolutely deliciously lovely and re-ignited my love of France. So much so in fact that at home 24 hours later I was looking, more accurately dreaming (another lottery win needed) of buying a house there.

We’ve also done the obligatory holiday activities: Cinema – Smurfs 2 (numb bums, over expensive popcorn/fizzy drinks and of course a trip to the toilet right at the good bit of the film), Pizza Hut lunches, shopping trips, taking L to get her ears pierced, staying up late, visits to Colchester Zoo which include face painting, attending the Great Bentley village fete – more face painting, tombola, raffles and donkey rides.

L's ears very newly pierced

L’s ears very newly pierced

Face painting at Great Bentley village fair

Face painting at Great Bentley village fete

Donkey rides at Great Bentley village fete

Donkey rides at Great Bentley village fete

The kids and I also had an unexpected “sleep-over” at my Parent’s house. We drove to Southend for the day while Husband and S/son went to a rugby match (was my nose put out of joint at this? Yes, very much so, but that’s for another day). So it was Saturday 24th August and the heavens opened. It was very possibly the worst rain that Southend and a majority of the South East has seen in many years. It became obvious mid-afternoon that we would be unable to come home. Road after road in and around Southend were being closed. The thought of going out in the car with the kids, not much petrol or any supplies did not appeal to me, so we bunked down for the night. The kids shared the spare double and me on a makeshift bed on the floor. It was good though despite not having come “prepared” and it dawned on me that actually I don’t need to carry with me things I would have previously deemed essential.

It also was lovely for me to almost revert back to being a daughter; kissing my dad goodnight for example. It made me realise how much I miss doing that.

So a good summer all round in my mad-house. Roll on summer 2014….(please repeat the sunshine!)

Me and kids at Colchester Zoo

Me and kids at Colchester Zoo

Fun at the Owl Sanctuary

Fun at the Owl Sanctuary

Painting in the garden

Painting in the garden

Fun at the beach

Fun at the beach

Kids posing with giant Meerkat at Colchester Zoo

Kids posing with giant Meerkat at Colchester Zoo

Half-term nothingness

So we’re coming to the end of yet another half term break, and actually despite not actually doing anything, it’s been pretty damn good.

During the last school holidays, I put myself under pressure to do things with the kids. And yes we went to the cinema, had buckets loads of naughty food, but in my opinion because we hadn’t planned anything this time, we actually relaxed and took each day on our stride.

As usual the weather hasn’t been on our side. Although quite remarkably we has sunshine, yes I said sunshine, over the bank holiday weekend; however once the BH was over the weather turned again. So as no plans were made, no plans were ruined.

Tuesday: a lovely late lazy start to the morning. The kids and I didn’t actually get dressed until about 11am! Yes, yes I know. But it is the holidays. Ordinarily we get up, get dressed and are sitting at the table eating breakfast by 7 am during the term-time, so this is loooovely.

After the youngest has had a nap (such an exhausting morning has been had so far!), and we’ve had a light lunch,  we get the bikes out.

I would point out that this is a very brave thing for me – it’s raining! I don’t like rain. But I loooove my bike. It has been tucked away all winter, and now I think it’s time to bring it out of hibernation.

So anyway, we’re on our bikes; me with the two youngest in the trailer (I forgot how heavy that thing is!) and the eldest on hers. We set off into town, so pick up a few essentials. It’s not a very exciting trip out granted, but they enjoyed themselves.

They enjoyed it even more when the saddle came off Mummy’s bike! Yes, despite being covered up for winter, that damned north sea wind has got to the frame and rusted/corroded or something and well, my saddle came off! I was not happy, but I found it slightly amusing at the same time. So Husband has something else to add to his weekend to-do-list….service my bike, re-rust, re-attach my saddle, the works.

Wednesday: Again, we had no plans. I had to do very boring things like paying a bill at the post-office and renewing our parking permit with the local Council office. So I told the kids, that once I had done my bits we would go into the next town, have some lunch,  a mooch around the charity shops, where they could spend their pocket money, and maybe meet up with H a friend of mine and her kids for a cuppa.

Again, these plans didn’t go to plan. The local Council office has, unbeknown to me, been closed permanently. This is no good when the parking permit runs out in two days! Instead I have to drive into a different town, Clacton, to visit the Town Hall. I am not amused. And now it was raining, again!

So  cancelled on H and off we go. Went to Town Hall, dealt with and put up with a rather rude and obnoxious Council employee and took the kids to the Wimpy. This perked us all up. Food works a treat doesn’t it? Well it does with mine. And now my eldest, L, was happy as she could head straight to Claire’s Accessories and spend an age deciding what she wants to waste, sorry spend, her money on.

We spend a further two hours in Clacton; we visit New look, Shoe Zone, Peacocks, Burtons, The Card Factory. Spend a bit more than originally planned, but it could have been more.

Thursday and Friday: very very non-happening days. Nothing to report. Lovely lazy get ups, breakfasts. Catching up on playing with kids, housework (which I simply cannot avoid), watching Cbeebies, playing in the garden, colouring, visiting Nanna (who lives next door), walking to the local corner shop to pick up an unhealthy selection of penny, or rather “ten penny” sweets.

So there you go, half-term  is over, and I am not looking forward to that horrible alarm clock going off on Monday morning. This is the first school break that I have actually relaxed and enjoyed the children without the stress of clock watching and keeping to any plans we’ve made.

But it isn’t long until the end of the school year, and we’ve got six lovely weeks of lazy get ups and having relaxing fun, in hopefully slightly warmer weather.

The coffee is brewing and it smells so good….

English: Beach at Walton-on-the-Naze Looking n...

English: Beach at Walton-on-the-Naze Looking north from the Mabel Greville breakwater. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So we’re almost halfway through the school Easter holidays and it’s been lovely. The Husband has taken a week’s holiday and although the weather could not have been more different to what it was like two years ago, ( Easter 2011 we spent on the beach. Not a beach in an exotic location, well unless you class Walton on the Naze an exotic location!) we have had a good break so far.

But time goes so fast. The days get eaten up so quickly. In amongst the plans, days out, entertaining children; you have to maintain a certain level of the mundane routine:  Cooking dinner, doing the washing, getting the shopping done.  I’m already thinking about the shopping list needed for the school packed lunches (L wants a new packed lunch bag!), locating and washing that dreaded P.E. kit (white t-shirt, red shorts and a pair of those lovely black plimsolls), wondering what the weather will be like; usually its after the Easter break that the summer uniform gets brought out and the winter one tucked away. Not sure that will be the case this year.

I’m thinking about the things we’ve still got planned and haven’t got around to yet. Cookie making, cinema trip, gardening, London day trip, zoo trip.

At the Movies ~ The Croods, 2013

We’ve had the afternoon of painting nails (mine: orange, L’s: purple and orange, T’s: pink and sparkly but not G’s – boys of 19 months should not be subjected to wearing nail polish, there is plenty of time for that), shoe shopping (you should know by now that I am a shoe fiend and that trait has definitely been inherited by my kids) a good hour or more was spent trying on various shoes, sandals, trainers, canvas pumps, flip flops, etc. We’ve done the compulsory trip to McDonalds, and got the happy meal toy x3 (The Croods), balloon x3 and fought tooth and nail for a table to sit and eat. We’ve been to Pizza Hut and pigged out on the buffet menu and unlimited soft drinks. I have also had to spend a very unpleasant but much needed morning at the dentist, which resulted in me being unable to talk properly, dribbling everywhere and unable to feel the left side of my face and tongue for the next four hours – yes a filling!!

I always dread school holidays; I am not, in any way shape or form a Mum who can naturally come up with ideas to keep my children happy and amused. I like activities which do not make a mess or require 100% supervision. Whereas my girls just love baking, painting, cutting, play dough, glitter, stickers, etc. This is not unusual I know and many of you are reading this smiling and nodding. Yes you are!

However,  I dislike having my children in the kitchen cooking or baking; they make too much mess and take too long. I know I know I know. Now I’ve typed that I realise that I sound awful. But my children do not miss out and actually despite what I have said I DO let my children do baking, do arts and crafts. I am getting better.

So here I sit at 5am on Thursday morning, downstairs, unable to sleep. My bed; full of snoring Husband and a restless daughter (I would not recommend letting your 9 year old watching an episode of Jonathan Creek by the way, it causes a night of non-sleeping and climbing in and out of mum and dads bed), I decided to retreat to the lounge, put the coffee machine on and catch up on my recorded Sky+ programming  – OBEM, TOWIE (yes I know! I’ve never claimed to have a good taste in television programmes.)

As I type this blog, I am working out what to do with the children today, with the knowledge that in slightly over a weeks time I will be moaning that the alarm has to be re-set and the kids dragged out of bed. But in the meantime, my coffee smells good……………….

Time flys….or does when I want to throw my alarm across the room

So, finally after 10 days of having a big black imaginary X (erected during a period of illness advising people to STAY AWAY.) across our front door, that time has come; to return the kids to school.

Most mums/dads will agree that actually while during family illness; (one child after the next, very kindly staggering their spreading of germs, until eventually the parents fall foul of the dreaded flu), that being able to legitimately switch off the alarm ,whether it be an actual alarm clock or that wonderful function on your mobile, is pure bliss.

It removes that “one more thing to think about” syndrome. It allows the family to wallow in self pity, two/three day old PJs, and not have get up. In fact the only thing, apart from a child needing you, that consciousness is required for, is that phone call to the respective school, advising of absense………and yet despite being a fully grown adult (I think, I mean I have a Husband and kids and everything!!) I always still get made to feel like they do not believe me…..I fumble to find the right words and description of the illness which is preventing my offspring from attending class and therefore spreading more germs.

But once I have made that call and satisfied (I hope) the school office manager; relief takes over and I can recommence the moaning, sweating, coughing and bumbling about looking shockingly unattractive in peace. I can veg on the sofa with one of the many children who are ill, snuggling under a blanket, playing verbal “my symptoms are worse than yours” tennis with Husband from one sofa to another. It is, dare I admit it, quite nice actually.

It’s a time when you can all come together, all plans are cancelled , visitors are advised to stay away; you can slob around in jogging bottoms without the worry of makeup or hair looking good because you know that you wont be seeing anyone.

However, after seven or so days, you realise (thanks to the Husbands boss harassing him day after day after day for his return to “that place”, and the fact that your kitchen cupboards are in desperate need of being replenished) that eventually you and your loved ones have to reenter the world of the living……this means that the most hated item in the house has to be reset/switched on…….the ALARM!!!!

And if it wasn’t for the fact that I use that alarm function on my very-expensive-very-clever-and-too-flashy-for-stay-at-home-mum-husband-would-shout-lots-if-it-got-broken moblie phone…..time would have flown, across my bedroom at immense speed into the wall when that irritating noise went off this morning!

And so we’re back, to health (well as much as can be expected) and that period of illness, A.K.A. family slobbing time is o.v.e.r……..until next time!