Facts I have learnt this week:
Fact #1. Did you know that dogs and pigs kill more humans per year than sharks? I know, the dogs bit is believable but throwing pigs in there as well makes it funny. No offence to anyone who knows someone who has, but to die by pig seems a particularly cruel way to go as people will automatically have a slight giggle at the same time as being sad that you are dead. This exciting fact was from G's new book on sharks courtesy of his cousin's 4th birthday party. I was forced to read it to him and found it quite fascinating. I have said that based on this new information, we are far more likely to get a shark as a pet than a dog or a pig. I like the idea of a small shark - there is such a thing as a dwarf lantern version and I think I could start a great new trend by breeding them and selling them on - they only grow to around 16 cms and give off a pleasing glow on the underside of their bodies which I think would be an amazing feature in a room. It is contained, you don't need to pick up its poo and it's unlikely to make any mess. Plus it doesn't need walking. And finally I am not allergic to sharks - I have a fairly minor allergy to pet hair but it is incredibly irritating as my eyes itch terribly as does my skin and nose, so I would prefer not to bow down to the almost constant pressure by K and G to get a sodding dog. We do have a cat already, the helpful Reggie who saw off a rather scary rodent invasion a few years ago. I could no longer spend any time alone downstairs due to the fear factor of the tiny invaders until Reggie was donated to us from one of K's friends and he has been here, keeping them at bay ever since. Poison and traps did not work as a permanent solution for us so to anyone suffering I would recommend that you get a professional killer in (hence Reggie's name) to see off the pesky buggers. Anyway, the point is I put up with my allergic reactions to Reggie because he serves a very important purpose but a dog would just take up more of my time, make mess and cause me to have a constant allergic reaction. A small shark seems a far more sensible choice.
Fact #2. I could 'do' with spending more time with my children. My mother told me so on Sunday morning so it is a fact. I am struggling with this particular fact though. As a stay-at-homer the only way I could pyhsically spend more time with my children would be to home school them which would result in us all needing major psychiatric help in the future. Perhaps she was confusing me for a high flying corporate lawyer who had divorced her husband and only got to see her children for half an hour a day and every other weekend? Who knows. I mean they sleep next to me in my bed until they are over seven months old, they stay at home with me until they go in to official education at 4 years old and apart from very rare occasions like a wedding, even rarer night away with K or the once in their lifetime three nights away when I did my WW training - they are always with me. The very idea that I could be chastised for not spending enough time with them is mind boggling. She had taken against me moaning about the snow - I was meant to be having a rather thrilling day 'off' as K was going to take them all away to his mother's house - but thanks to the snow we deemed it a bad idea and as K had also put his back out again, instead of a glorious day to myself I was 'stuck' at home entertaining all of them. Plus I wasn't particularly looking forward to venturing out in the freezing weather conditions. She caught me at an 'off' moment and clearly thought this would 'chivvy' me along to stop moaning and get outside to build a snowman with them (I did not - they were quite happily amusing themselves in our 10ft by 10ft garden and had been for quite some time which meant I could eat my breakfast in peace - nothing she said would change that situation), but still, I think it was an unnecessarily harsh comment and actually just plain unnecessary. It haunted me all day. To 'prove' to her how wrong she was I spent the rest of the day emailing her pictures/videos of all the fun the children were actually having - every part of the day was recorded and emailed over for her to wade through on Monday morning at work - that will learn her. I even took the big two up to our local sledge run (much against my fervent wish to stay inside in the warm) and we spent a freezing hour and a half going up and down a hill of patchy snow. We didn't get as much snow as some areas so the grass was showing through in places and it was a bit muddy, but still, they loved it more than anything we have ever done before and are now whining on about when it will snow again. (Aside from the cold I actually enjoyed it too - watching them laugh with happiness together was quite lovely but I am glad it doesn't snow a lot).
Fact #3. The Queen has been employed as such for exactly 60 years. I am sure that she must have a competitive spirit in her and even though she is very tired and desperate to put her feet up and go on a Saga cruise, she is hanging on in there just to convincingly thrash Queen Victoria (and maybe a little to annoy Camilla - we all pretend it's fine but really she is just the most successful mistress in history). If the Queen keeps her job for another four years she will make history and therefore all history books, websites, fact sheets etc will have to change the information they have held dear for over a Century. All those school projects informing us that Queen Victoria is the longest running monarch to date will become defunct and the whole world will shift on its axis. I am actually looking forward to 3 years and 7 months' time when we shall watch the minutes tick by until Queen Liz can thrust her fists in the air in victory and shout 'yes!' loudly to her lady in waiting (not Philip whom my mother is convinced has not lived with her as a 'husband' for many decades). I must apologise if this has already been endlessly discussed in the media but as you know, I am very cut off from the world so unless it is on the Sky News app I sometimes peruse in a bored moment or being discussed on BBC Radio 2 by Chris Evans, I don't know about it. So the idea of the Queen secretly lying in bed at night thinking - "I've come this far - there is no way I'm giving up this close to the finish line - come on Lizzie, you can do it!" - has kept me amused for days.
Fact #4. Another thing I have learnt (courtesy of Radio 2 again but a lunch time discussion programme instead) is that there are NO GAY footballers. Who would have thought that being a footballer naturally meant you were heterosexual? I was shocked that a. I hadn't noticed before and b. this ridiculous crap is allowed to continue. This has meant I have a new hero to add to my list - the brave Justin Fashanu - the only gay footballer ever. So, my new goal in life is to have the next gay footballer who shakes up the world of football and stops all this silliness. As the new baby is no doubt a boy as well (and no - we are not planning to find out and no, we do not know what it is already - I have been asked that a lot) I have three to choose from so I just need to get one of them in to football, make them professional standard and help them to become gay. I'm sure these are all easily achievable. Whilst I'm on the subject I would also like to loudly announce that I am 99.99% sure Simon Cowell is gay. It irritates me massively that we do not speak openly about this. Sinitta is the longest running fag hag in gay history. I would like to send him supportive words of encouragement via email to tell him it is ok to be gay and we would all totally understand. No one would think less of him, surely? He has so much money he can continue to buy friends and fag hags for the rest of his life. I just don't get it.
Other than these few fascinating facts I have learnt this week, nothing much has happened that is out of the ordinary. The usual crap has happened. Children, school drop off, school pick up, whining, crying, laughing, homework, housework, endless food preparation, Ted emptying a whole bottle of body lotion on K's side of the bedroom (in the bed, on a book, bedside table, his hair, on the end of the bed etc), the microwave has broken, I ran another WW's meeting and made a whopping £5 after childcare, I penned my resignation email - then saved it instead of sending it and I have continued to moan at the children for not listening to me/doing as I said/picking up their clothes, wet towels, coats off the floor. Dullsville I'm afraid. I am literally counting down the minutes until half term this Saturday and a holiday chez mother. Luckily as she will be doing all the housework and cooking I will be able to fulfil her wish and spend even MORE time with the children. Thank goodness. They were beginning to wonder what I looked like. As she has a big garden I can also begin the football training. Watch this space. Oooh talking of which I think we can all let the 'sick' query lie now - what with the recent snow fall and general dirt the remnants of the sick have now broken down and turned brown/black so they blend in quite well with the tarmac beneath and you would have to know what you were looking for to recognise it. I think that must be over a month now. As part of my ongoing scientific experimentation I shall make a note of the date the next time I see a splatter pattern and we can officially document its stay on the pavement.
YE Gods, I have just learnt something else - Channel 4 are putting out a programme called The Wedding Proposal. For me, there is nothing worse than public displays of affection. I get quite queasy about it. I accept it at weddings as even I have to concede that that is the most appropriate place for them, but any other public declarations of love between a couple are totally revolting. Now they are filming men making total tits of themselves asking women if they will marry them - in public - and then putting it on TV. YUCK. Something that would instantly put me off a man is him telling me he loved me in front of loads of other people (or worse singing a song about it - take note Paul McCartney - your new song is GROSS you should have saved it for you and your clearly lovely new wife - it would mean so much more to you both). So much so that I pre-empted any possibility of K getting it very wrong and 11 years ago we ended up getting engaged whilst I was brushing my teeth in our first flat. I yelled up at him that we should get married the following year (in between spits) and he came down the stairs and said 'are you asking me to marry you' and I said, still brushing, 'no I'm saying we should get married next year'. (There is a distinction between the two - he says I asked him but that is not true - I told him. They are totally different things.) And that was that. No fanfare or silliness. We rang our parents and things continued on from there. No photographs, no ring, no members of the public. Spit Spot as Mary Poppins would say. We celebrated by going to the Asda at Clapham Junction and I took it as a good 'sign' that they played our song as we walked around. That was more than enough for me. We may even have splashed out on a bottle of Asda sparkling wine. Although I can't actually remember - I might have deemed that a bit over the top.
Right, I think that is enough factual excitement for one evening. I shall leave you to try and digest all this mind blowing information and contemplate where you might house your new pet shark.
Adios mis amigos. xxxxxx