This year I have not followed X-Factor. In fact I have only ever followed it once, last year. Between that and Strictly Come Dancing my Saturday nights last year were - I kid you not- verging on the obsessive. Laundry duties have since taken over, as regular readers will know.
That aside, I did watch the show a couple of weeks ago and was struck by how the pop factory that is Mr Cowell and co have singularly failed to provide us lesser humans (ie those who would fail at the audition trials, let alone attempt to enter in the first place) with translators for those contestants who talk so fast and so garbled they make comedians like Michael McIntyre seem positively s l o w in their delivery.
Not sure what I mean? Have a look at this then for an interview.
And please spare me the "she's young and fun and full of life" comments.
1. a useless letter of Greek origin duplicated and easily replaced by other letters.
2. a thing lacking in identity, or quantity.
I rest my case. Know what I mean, innit?
Right, here we go again. Once more into the foray that is the magimix of commuter hell (because you finish your journey as the sum of multiple parts, not all of them yours to start with) and the madness of the career ladder.
Not so sure about the career ladder bit really, time will tell, but this new venture should see the bank balance replenished somewhat so that at the very least I can do away with the 'cheap' option at the supermarket rather than the normal selection of pre-redundancy days.
Having said that, it will also mean reverting back to ordering on line, now that I think of it, as the days of shopping mid-week will be a thing of the past. Wonder if I can remember my password? Am sure it has expired.
Am thinking of this as being a bit like preparation for lengthy absence from home, eg. when you cook and freeze meals so you don't worry about your family going hungry whilst you are away.
Except this is more a case of writing up various future blog posts to different degrees of completion and then 'hoping' a minimum of editing will suffice before I hit the 'publish' key.
Will be known henceforth as LCM BOTG (blogger on the go).
This week saw me up on the Kings Road, shooting the breeze with Widget as we enjoy our last few days together before he returns to nursery full time and I join the commuter throng again.
After the usual tour around PJ's (total spend, £11.95, very tame I thought) and some other shops that I managed to drag him in to and out of without damage trailing in our wake, we sat down in Duke of York Square and Widget munched his way through his packed lunch while I did some people spotting.
Or rather, some Yummy Mummy spotting.
Oh, no, sorry, that was the Filipino nanny.
Obsessed? Possibly. But not what you may think. It's the jeans/trousers and boots thing! I wanted to jump up and ask them "How do you do it?"
How do you manage to wear long boots over your trousers and still zip them up? Are yours pseudo-trousers that in true fact are cut off below the knee? Are they a shrink-wrapped version that moulds to your leg before you put your footwear on? Are they in actual fact - horror, shock - leggings? Or are your boots expandable in some manner, in a weird leather/lycra mix that I have never come across yet?
How come I can only wear my boots either under my trousers (if they will then go over them, in which case why bother) or with a dress or skirt, and even then struggle madly to do the zip up (lying on my back with legs in the air) and painfully take the first few steps to 'accommodate' the fat re-distribution of my calves?
So never mind the fact that these women all looked gorgeous, scrubbed and polished to the nines and probably have never had to tackle a pile of laundry in their life, I want to know how this boot business works.
Day 4 of my own daily post effort.
Widget - Mummy, when can we get a very fast sports car?
LCM (brain not entirely engaged yet for witty repartee with a 4yo) - Errrmmm... when mummy has lots and lots of money?
W (not missing a beat) - You can have my money!
LCM (still waking up) - Oh sweetie, that's very kind of you, thank you.
W - Yes, but you have to give it back.
I suddenly had a vision of him as a bank manager in years to come.
Day 3 of my own daily post effort.
That's me on the far right of the picture. Apologies for the quality, but we are talking 1970s here. Am sure you can see the similarities with my LCM caricature, yes? No? Never mind. Suffice to say we wore some sort of synthetic kaftan in cerulean blue to which were stapled strips of green/dark blue/turquoise crepe paper. Put me off acrylic for life. And outside of the mothers who created the costumes, no one had the foggiest idea who we were or what we were doing. Some sort of female circular ritual involving shiny material.
However, as part of my drive to be particularly and conscientiously maternal before heading back into the rat race, I am very proud to state here that I have made the costumes for Mr Man and Blossom's roles in the forthcoming nativity play this year.
A king's crown. Good, yes? Was most impressed with myself.
Yes, I know it looks like a t-shirt with cotton wool stuck to it (ingeniously with sticky-back velcro), but that's what the instructions from the school said! I have not shown it to Blossom yet as she will probably refuse to wear it. Can hardly blame her (at least it will not itch like my 1970s wave costume).
Oh, sorry, what is it? A cloud, stupid!
Day 2 of my own daily post effort.
Hmmmm... where to start? Considering it is now, what, after half past one in the afternoon and I am still sitting at my desk in my filthy training kit, I seem to be making little progress.
Well, let's be a tad more accurate here: I have only been sitting at my desk since 11.30 or so, my kit is not really that filthy (although I am keeping my arms well pinned to my sides, you know why), and in truth I have actually been busy with work-related stuff over the past two hours.
So, work it will be again. Terms and conditions have been agreed, contracts are being signed, and if all is done and dusted by the end of the week, Monday morning will see LCM back in the throng of commuters heading up to new premises to recommence her life as, funnily enough, a working mother again.
Am strangely excited, but at the same time somewhat reluctant to get back on the treadmill... although what with the bank balance starting to creak severely I really have no option.
Plus there is a delightful twist in the working tale, which I will reserve for another post.
Once upon a time there was a group of women girls who loved to read. They decided to form a book club so they could share opinions, views and general chit chat about their enthusiasm for literature.
At their first meeting, one of the dippy blondes (there were a few) said that the book club should have a name. The other members concurred. There followed an intense debate (all of five minutes, Ed.) about what they should call themselves.
Until one of the other blondes piped up and said, "Kevin."
Not quite sure what has come over me, but in a fit of madness I have just signed up for the Henley Sprint Triathlon next June 13th to raise money for Cancer Research UK.
Possibly a combination my back finally being sorted (again) thanks to my lovely osteopath who once more came to the rescue, or maybe as penance for having to defer my Great South Run due to the aforementioned injury (on top of bronchitis, flu, cold, etc etc v v v boring). Either way, the deed is done.
I am now attempting to rope in my sister-in-law (who had to do the GSR without me), my running partner (the lovely Brazilian Babe, BB for short), my former rowing crew member and partner-in-pregnancy Miss K (our firstborn arrived within 37 mins of each other) who did this triathlon last year, and anyone else who is game. Team name is Sons and Daughters.
But there are still 31 weeks until the big day (best heads up I have ever had), so I live in hope. Just wake me in time for the starter's gun, okay?
p.s. top 3 photos courtesy of Emma Snowsill's website - awesome stuff.
After much faffing - in which Other Half claims I am Olympic Champion, I say it takes one to know one - I have produced the revised caricature which now adorns the front page of the blog.
And I am so pleased with my efforts I am reproducing it here for greater effect as the smaller details do not show up in the everyday version.
Can I just add, in case you were wondering, that the adorning clothes are not truly 'me'. In fact I have managed to make myself look like a Laura Ashley advert.
In real life of course I am the epitome of a sleek and highly fashionable business woman.
Quiet in the back there!
Oh, and by the by - Iota has laid down the gauntlet in the competition now, so there is a true challenge afoot to submit a superior entry before Sunday's deadline.
It was pointed out to me that as I (perhaps foolishly, would not be a first either) 'launched' the competition right at the start of half term, perhaps it would be worthwhile extending it slightly to encourage entries from those whom have to date failed could not be ar*sed been unable to join in the fun.
So I am sticking my neck out here and therefore bending the rules (I made them anyway) and extending the deadline to Sunday 8th November.
Click on the link above to see what it entails, and if you were one of the people who submitted suggestions vocally, thanks, but I do need them in writing for proper judgement to prevail!
Over to you. Let's see if anyone beyond Yummy Mummy, Fraught Mummy and Mothership can be fecking bothered to have a go.