But I Don't Want to...

It's half term, and I promised myself I'd get up to date with my OU work. Which I will do. A bit later. Because it's only Tuesday.

It's Wednesday?? Already??

Hmm. Well, I'm up to speed with re-reading Little Women. Almost. I've got those nice little pointy post-its ready on the table, with a pencil beside them. I've checked the facebook group several times, and have chatted with several other procrastinators. Yes, I'm well aware I have to finish 'Little Women' and 'Treasure Island' by this time next week. And write about depictions of fatherhood. And plan my next Creative Writing assignment (although that's not due in until January, so that can hang fire for a month or so). I'm kidding myself that blogging is Creative Writing preparation. I was going to write 'practice', but can't remember if it's spelt with a 'c' or 's' in this case, and after my previous blog on grammar, I'll skip that bit. Sorry, I know I'm rambling, but I'm only on here because I've run out of lives on Bubble Shooter.

Seriously, I must get on with my work - it's only reading at the moment, and I love reading. Except it's work-reading, not relaxation-reading, which is very different. I have to write in books, for example, which has taken me 18 months of studying to get used to. I feel like I'm going to get shouted at every time I do it, and I can never re-read the books afterwards. I keep all my ex-study books on their own bookshelf, where they can be looked down upon by other, unsullied volumes, who think they're spoilt and slutty.  

Umm...What else can I write about? Oh yes, the cats are kind of getting on. I've not had to wipe blood off the walls for a while, and they've stopped shouting and swearing at each other. They actually touched noses earlier today, without a claw in sight. The water-sprayer has been used a few times, but I have to be careful as the cats both like Son-Number-Two's bedroom to hide in, and that's full of electrical stuff (technical term, there). All of his money for the past few years has gone into guitar bits, and things with lots of wires, so I don't think he'll be best pleased if I blow it all up. 'Sorry, dear, but the cats were fighting...'

I honestly can't think of anything else to write, for which I know you're deeply grateful, so I suppose I'll have to get back to 'Little Women'. I'll just make a quick coffee and steal some biscuits out of the cupboard while no-one's looking.

I have a suspicion there'll be quite a few blog entries this week...

Chocolate Brownies

I never thought I'd say it, but I don't want to see a piece of chocolate ever again. Well, not for a week or so, anyway. We took the local Brownie pack for a weekend away, meeting other girls and doing various activities, all on a chocolate theme. Ugh...just the smell of chocolate now is enough to make my stomach churn.

Bleah....

I've been helping at Brownies for a couple of years now. I happened to be having a burst of enthusiastic energy at the time, which has long since disappeared; and so volunteered to do a course, give up various evenings and weekends, and wear the most excruciating uniform ever. Actually, scrub that last bit - it's not as bad as the Scout leaders have - at least I can wear jeans. Everything brightened up a bit when Ms Fab decided to join us, too. Mrs Say-It-As-You-Mean-It is in charge, and is pretty great. She tells us when she simply can't be bothered to do anything, which results in Ms Fab and I taking over and trying to corrupt young minds with things from this century. (We also helped the Brownies to make some truly revolting sweets for Mother's Day. Sorry to all mums who received them. Hope you didn't actually eat them...) 

 This badge should be banned...

Ms Fab and I are itching to drag our Brownies out of the 1950s. We want to do interesting and faintly dangerous things. The above badge will be involved: "Have you got a flint, steel, and a home skills badge to set fire to?"  Apparently, for this badge, you have to know how to lay the table, and understand washing and ironing instructions on clothes labels. Excuse my language, but bugger that! Now, I know that ironing is important; I did some a couple of months ago, but seriously?! A badge on housework?? Ms Fab and I are planning to focus on important life skills: how to order a good Chinese takeaway, buy a whole outfit for a fiver, and get a job that will pay you enough money to never do housework again...Suggestions welcome. None involving cookery though, please. Ms Fab and I need lessons on that ourselves.

I really must learn to say 'No.'

We have a new cat called Merlin. He was adopted from a friend who was moving house, although I'm starting to wonder if that was just the best excuse she could think of. We were doing just fine with Georgie, our black and white cat-rescue, nose-in-the-air little lady, but I'm a sucker for a sob story, so said those fateful words, 'Oh, go on, then...' So far, Merlin has fallen in the washing basket, eaten my son's shoe laces and attacked Georgie at every opportunity. He's the greediest cat we've had, and he's only been here for a week. He climbed in the bin after old chips, hoovered under the chairs for crumbs (saves me a job, though...) and discovered a liking for croutons. When I came home from work today, the kitchen drawers were all open, including the one where we stash the take-away menus. I have a suspicion that, had he found my credit card, he'd have been halfway through a Dominoes pizza.

 

I'm just hoping that Merlin and Georgie learn to get on together. We're forced to keep them apart at the moment as they scream at each other and retreat only when they have mouthfuls of the opposition's fur. A bad mistake was made two nights into the settling-in process, when we let them share space. Not a wink of sleep was had, and I was left washing cat pee off the wall at four in the morning. It's amazing how much urine a small cat contains. Or doesn't contain, after it's all been frightened out of him.

I'm hoping that peace will reign by the time I next write. Sorry it's been a while, by the way. Two OU assignments and a throat-slittingly enjoyable Brownie camp got in the way. More on that later...

Fully Booked

Well, I'm getting into the Creative Writing course, and am finding it surprisingly easy. So that could mean either that I'm an undiscovered genius or that I'm doing it wrong. I'm really hoping it's the former, but doubt it very much. I've finished my first assignment, but am hesitating over submitting it just in case it makes my tutor suicidal. 

My other course is Children's Literature. I've read all of the set books (so glad I was forced to read 'Treasure Island' as I love it), and am planning an assignment on fairy tales. Again, it seems a great course, and I'm worried that I understand everything, as it's my first level 3. Perhaps it's just that I've been immersed in books since I was little, so it's all quite enjoyable. I'll keep you up to date with my obviously impending fall into the pits of despair as I realise I'm on completely the wrong track.

I've discovered some rather wonderful books through my OU courses. I'm not including 'Little Women' in this, as the sugar-rush almost made me violently ill. I can't remember being that affected by it as a child, maybe it's to do with being older and more cynical. I can relate, though, to one of the girls spending all of the house-keeping on clothes and getting into trouble with her husband. Been there, done that, and had to return the t-shirt. 

As I mentioned, I've always loved books. I have several thousand; walls are lined with bookshelves, which makes painting a room so much quicker. (You think I move the bookshelves first? Oh, come on...) I've kept a lot of favourites from childhood, so Enid Blyton sits primly next to Stephen King, and Calvin and Hobbes crack jokes with Bill Bryson. Neil Gaiman is a favourite, ever since I committed the sin of buying a book because I liked the cover (if you've not read 'Neverwhere', then why not? Seriously, buy it or steal a copy from a friend). 

I always have a book on the go - I get the jitters if there's a long silence and I don't have reading material to hand. When I go handbag shopping (which my husband won't let me do very often), I have to take a large-format paperback with me, to make sure it'll fit in. I have books in the car, in case I have to wait somewhere, and a book in my work locker, in case maths lessons get boring. I'm ashamed to say that, when having to take my accident-prone children to A & E, my first thought is, 'We're going to be there for hours, what book shall I take?'

As for other people, I have one friend that I'll lend my books to, and that's Ms Fab. I stupidly lent a book to another colleague once. She kept it for six months and returned it with a torn cover; I had to be restrained. She breezed,'Oh, sorry! I don't look after books. I normally read them and throw them away.' I'm trusting Karma to sort that one out. I don't understand anyone who doesn't have books in their house. People who love books are usually pretty nice, although Mr Chaos did point out that doesn't include people who are fanatical about 'Mein Kampf'.

My Dad very generously bought me a Kindle. It holds several dozen free books from Amazon, none of which I'm ever going to read. It also contains copies of all my OU study books, and ditto. I just like books: the feel, the smell, the way they pile up in the corner of the room and save you hoovering. I read a quote once, from Jilly Cooper, who said that her grandmother only ever tidied up when she couldn't reach the bookshelves. She sounds like my kind of lady.