The future father of my children is…Cat Man?

31 08 2013

Cat Man

I know it’s not Wednesday but I couldn’t resist an unscheduled post about FFOMC.

He is a man of many talents but his latest “title” had me giggling for some time this morning.

His professional role has changed over the years he has spent with his company. He has moved location several times, been on numerous secondments and supported with tasks such as tills testing.

The greatest changes have taken place over the last year with his role continuously evolving following a period of economic uncertainty in his world of work. Despite some worrying times about a year ago, things are much more stable now and his role, although it is still developing seems to be more secure and potentially more permanent.

A sure sign of this is the change made to his job title on his most recent payslip. He is apparently a “categories manager”, whatever that means. However his job role is abbreviated on his payslip to the esteemed position of “CAT MAN“.

I hope they will be making some reasonable adjustments in order for him to perform his duties appropriately. I have the following suggestions:

  • A scratching post at his desk to stop him from damaging office equipment and paperwork with his claws.
  • A saucer of milk to be provided at break times to replace the “trolley” woman.
  • Instead of traditional bonus rewards good work should be acknowledged with a tickle of his tummy or a scratch behind his ears.
  • A whole office ban on balls of yarn or other distracting and irrelevant stimuli.
  • Flea medication to be added to any existing professional medical benefits.


Banana Mama

30 08 2013

Bananna Mama

In the Dominican Republic I discovered my new favourite cocktail the Banana Mama. As I drank this during the day I often had the non-alcoholic version. It was served as a slushy and was a thirst quenching fruity option for the hot summer days.

After a very small amount of internet research I have discovered that the ingredients are as follows:

  • white rum
  • grenadine
  • coconut milk
  • pineapple juice
  • banana


I do own a cocktail mixer but I may never have the inconvenience of mixing my own as I found a great pre-mixed version in a Capri sun style foil container that goes straight from the freezer to the cocktail glass of your choice.

It may be a while before I lie in the Dominican Republic sunshine but I can enjoy a tipple anywhere!


“I wanted a Big Yellow Teapot but I got a Red Mushroom!

29 08 2013

Big yellow teapot

I do not see my sisters very often. When I do spend time with them I am reminded of how nuts they are.

There is always a tendency to reminisce when family and old friends get together and my trip to Northern Ireland was no different.

We were enjoying watching Baby TV with my nephew and giggling about our own childhoods.

Christmas was a popular topic and we all found ways of torturing our parents in our own unique ways.

We all had experience of coveting the most wanted Christmas gift – making it extremely difficult for poor Mum and Dad searching for “Keepers”, “Mr Frosty”, “My Little Pony”, “Care Bears”, “Polly Pocket’s” and many others. But we also recalled some more specific problems we caused during the season of good will to all men.

I started to ball rolling when I walked to the post office to personally post my letter to Santa. When Mum and Dad suggested I write my list they were informed that I had written to Santa and that he knew so they didn’t need to worry about it.

My younger sister asked for what sounded like a “tuck” – Mum and Dad didn’t know either. She received a Truck but to this day no one actually knows what she asked for and whether this gift made the grade – but I must hand it to my parents for not permitting gender stereotypes to dissuade them from their purchase.

As we giggled our way through this discussion my baby sister was most indignant when she said “You think you had problems – I asked for a Big Yellow Teapot but I got a Red Mushroom”.

It is amazing how these experiences are both unique and universal. Christmas was also a time when we were close as a family and it’s amazing to think that these fond memories keep us close after all this time.

We did not choose to be divided or predict where our lives would be today but I love my little sisters to bits.

Sometimes in life we get the big yellow teapot we asked for and sometimes we realise that the Big Red Mushroom is a great alternative.

mushroom house

The future father of my children…hasn’t slept for 3 nights.

28 08 2013

sleep and snuggles

At about 5pm today I texted FFOMC to let him know I was en route home from Northern Ireland.

He was very excited to receive this news as he had got it into his head that I was not coming home until tomorrow. I should mention that this little gem of information was immediately followed by the confession that the house had not been cleaned since I left on Sunday and the holiday washing I did not have time to complete before my departure was still on the floor where I had optimistically placed it next to the machine.

When I got home I made a start on putting our flat in order, anxous for him to return to me.

He looked extremely happy to see me and said he has not had a single nights unbroken sleep while I have been away.

It’s funny that when you are used to sharing your bed with someone on a long term basis – however much they irritate you – you cannot sleep without them by your side. I experienced the same thing while I stayed in NI.

I missed his warmth; his strong arms wrapped round me, his ability to steal the covers and even (can’t believe I am saying this) his snoring.

I am looking forward to snuggles tonight and hopefully we will both enjoy a restful night’s sleep before he drives to work tomorrow and I attempt to finish my household tasks before my return to work next week.




27 08 2013


Short break with the folks.
In a bid to stock the cupboards for my stay Datty and I paid a visit to the off-licence.
Unfortunately none of my usual choices of red wine were available. I have never given much thought to what type of wine I like prefering my tried and tested method of recognising the labels.
As I stared gormously at the shelves I was approached by the spotty, lank haired shop assistant and asked if I needed help.
Unusually I accepted this offer of help assuming that someone who works in a wine shop may have a little more specialised knowledge than I did.
My needs were simple: red, bitter, not fruity, South African.
The assistant placed his index finger on his lips tilted his head and frowned in concentration as he examined the bottles.
When it became apparent that no suggestion was forthcoming I scanned the labels and seeing a bottle with a picture of a giraffe on it I announced that i would take it. I figured as we were both clueless it was as good a reason as any.
It turned out to be very enjoyable and well suited to my taste.

I want one of those.

26 08 2013


I am rubbish at recycling.
During a rare shopping trip with Mommy today as we stepped up to the check out she reached into her handbag and produced a miniture pink spotty bag. From this, much like the russian dolls, a larger bag emerged.
The tirade that followed from my mother was as impressive  a rant as I have heard in sometime.
I will summarise the salient points:
Refuse to pay 5p for a dozy bag.
Right to bring home goods bought and paid for and VAT added.
Protecting heagerows = lot of crap.
Giving government the finger.
Rolex watches for bankers funded by said plastic bags.

I have decided I would like one of these cheerful colourful bags.

Northern Irish Time Warp

25 08 2013

Northern Ireland

At the time of writing it is 1am.

Less than 48 hours ago I flew home from the Dominican Republic on an overnight flight.

As the Dominican Republic is 5 hours behind the UK, my brain still currently thinks it is 8pm.

I stayed up from 8am (Dominican time) until till 11pm (UK time) the next day – 23hours in total – then I got up at 8am (UK time).

My parents have booked tickets for me to fly home to Northern Ireland to visit them and my family tomorrow.

The flight is at 10:50am – my brain will think it is 5:50am.

In order to make it to the airport on time I need to catch the train at 7:30am – at the absolute latest! My brain will think it is 2am.

By way of summary regarding my current thoughts on this situation:

  • I am very jet lagged.
  • After my 9 hour flight on Thursday/Friday, I swore blind I was done with planes for the year.
  • I want a lie in tomorrow.
  • I do not want to be on another plane tomorrow – sorry I mean TODAY!
  • I may dislike my parents a little bit right now.
  • I need to call my mother immediately, wake her and continue to call repeatedly throughout the night so she is as tired and irritable as I am on arrival…
  • …but it will be lovely to see them…
  • …and my nephews…
  • …and dearest Granny, Peggy and Arthur…


What Baby?

24 08 2013


We can all be guilty of making poor decisions.

Sometimes the worst kinds are those designed to protect other people.

I found myself making just such a poor decision whilst holidaying in the Dominican Republic.

It was the second day. FFOMC and I were searching for a table in the buffet restaurant for breakfast. It was rammed with people but we tumbled upon a table that had recently been vacated by its previous occupants and was being made up by one of the countless waitresses swarming between the crowds of hungry tourists.

I loitered next to the table to communicate my intention to occupy the table as soon as it was ready whilst FFOMC went in search of coffee, toast and tropical fruit juice.

The waitress (whose name tag read Vanessa), smiled and acknowledged my presence. She politely inquired about my health on that particular morning, cupping her stomach with one hand whilst she skilfully arranged cutlery with the other. I nodded that I was in good health.

The next question came as something of a shock.

“And how is the baby?”

In a heartbeat my mind raced through a number of subsequent thoughts.  What f**king baby? Do I look fat in this outfit? Who do you think I am? Do I have a pregnant doppelganger? Are you mocking me? How embarrassed will you be when you realise I am not in actual fact pregnant?

Having made similar errors in the past of enquiring about pregnancy and due dates with non-pregnant woman, my heart clenched in sympathy for this woman so desperate to please and engage with guests. Despite the multitude of responses competing in my brain, my overwhelming gut reaction was to spare the poor woman’s feelings and save her from embarrassment – after all she does not know me and after a fortnight was never likely to see me again. Even so, the response that issued from my mouth surprised even me;

“The baby’s fine.”

I don’t know what I expected but of course this was not the end of this conversation.

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Err…it’s really much too early to say”

(Gushing) “Oh…you must be so excited – it will be a wonderful surprise”

“More than you can possibly imagine…”

I had a lovely morning breakfast. As a “Mum-to-be” I was treated like royalty by the gushing staff and received approving, knowing nods of approval from the waiters. FFOMC laughed when I explained the reason for these knowing glances and rolled his eyes in merriment. Yes for an hour or so, I enjoyed being “pregnant”.

However, my amusement was short lived.

After a sinfully blissful day of drifting aimlessly between my sun lounger where I caught up on the romantic exploits of Damien Stark and my time in the Jacuzzi FFOMC and I dressed for dinner and made our way to dinner followed by the bar. As I was about to place my order for my usual red wine I met the beaming face of the lovely Vanessa. Despite my earlier reassurance that I would not ever see this woman again after my annual fortnight in the sun; I baulked at the idea of being branded the world’s worst parent as I necked wine by the gallon load putting my “unborn child” at unnecessary risk.

This was the start of a very long fortnight.

We ate at the buffet restaurant and all three of the Al La Carte restaurants in no particular order. At each venue we were greeted with Vanessa’s smiling face.

I abstained from ordering alcohol in her presence. I approached other waiters when her back was turned and took large gulps under the table when she went into the kitchen to collect food orders. I guzzled water and soft drinks when she was in my sight lines and refused to partake of the liqueur trolley when it was wheeled to our table.

It became a standing joke with the holiday friends we made and this farcical routine continued until the day we left.

All in all it was a great holiday but for much of it, I was significantly more lucid than I had intended to be.

On my return to England I have thrown out the offending outfit that resulted in this gross misunderstanding and I am hell bent on catching up on lost units.


Post Holiday Haze

23 08 2013


I have just returned today after a fabulous holiday in the Dominican Republic.

I have been very twitchy about not posting for two weeks but I have always found it difficult to access the internet when I am abroad, irrespective of the strength of my motivation and my commitment to the postaday challenge.

So despite another trip planned in the coming week to catch up with my family in Northern Ireland – I am back with a vengence – totally refreshed and with some news ideas that may or may not be worth pursuing and developing in my writing.

As soon as I can shake off this jet lag, watch this space!

Back in Two Weeks

8 08 2013

Holiday 1

Although it pains me, I will need to take a short break from blogging.

I am devastated that this will put my postaday status on hold but even the most dedicated bloggers need a break from time to time.

I am off on my travels and over the past few years I have been unable to acess the internet while I am abroad. So rather than alow myself to stress about how and when I can post on wordpress I have decided to give myself permission to take a well earned break from everything and just enjoy the sun, sand and sea without any additional pressures.

Happy holidays everyone!

I will be back soon xx