Memories

They are funny old things. I often worry about just how much the brain retains, largely without my knowledge let alone blessing. Old phone numbers for houses we moved from when I was 7. Birthdays for almost anyone I don't like. Song lyrics - dear lord - the song lyrics. As soon as you hear the opening bar, that's it, your brain produces all of the lyrics that 5 seconds earlier you would have sworn you didn't know.

However annoying or inefficient our brains may seem at retaining rubbish and forgetting the important neural Post-Its, just occassionally it digs up a gem. Like yesterday. I was out in the car and I was hungry. Decided to get a McDriveThru on my way home and, having wrongly recalled the location of one McShits', I found myself almost home, parked in the 'local' with the radio on. With trepidation I had plumped for the Radio 1 Chart Show (a risky selection for a 30-something these days but it treated me relatively kindly).

So there I was. Intrigued to hear that James Blunt was back in the charts - who knew? - and unsurprised by the volume of well-known, well-trodden paths through Memory Lane my brain was trying to direct me towards. I wasn't in the mood. There was a guy, a break-up, tears, and James Blunt's first album on repeat for many months of 2005...(and 2006, to be honest). But then two worlds - or at least cranial continents - collided. The combination of already having connected to 'that' chapter of my past, fused with the taste of my Big Tasty (or McNasty as one of my friend's calls it.) You see, I thought to myself just how delicious (not a word I EVER usually associate with burgers of said calibre) the Big Tasty sauce is. And it is. Creamy, the colour of thousand island, the taste of, erm, Big Tasty sauce.

Suddenly, there he was. I was sat in my car back in 2005 with the James Blunt guy. Outside McDonald's in Tonypandy (yes, non-Welshies, that's a real place. You're thinking of Pontypandy where Fireman Sam lives). And I was being told I simply had to lose my virginity - I had to try my first ever Big Tasty and discover the wonder that is the sauce.

From then until now, I have never recalled that tiny and insignificant fact - he was responsible for me trying that burger, way back when. Regardless of how many I've had since (almost none, obviously, as my body is a temple). Regardless of the number of conversations I've had with my boyfriend about how incredible I find his choice to always have his burgers plain - even the Big Tasty! Can you imagine choosing NOT to have the only yummy part of the whole menu?!

Nope. My brain chose that moment, 9 years later, when I was alone, in my car, listening to James Blunt and eating a burger to poke at me with a 'new' memory stick, probably to see if it could make me cry. I, thus, conclude that our memory has a mind of its own (ironically?) and behaves like a bigger boy in the playground, just waiting for the perfect moment to pull a girl's pigtails and make her cry.

--------------------------------------------------------------

I would like to point out that a) I didn't cry but was more 'well bugger me' about the whole thing and b), this post was in no way endorsed by McD's or any of their affiliates in the sauce-making arena (although I am open to free Big Tasty sauce for life as some kind of sponsorship deal).

So this is Christmas...

So this is Christmas
And what have we done?
Another year over
A new one just begun

Five years ago I was facing my first Christmas Eve & Christmas morning without my little girl. It was her dad's turn to have her. As a fully fledged member of Adulthood, there was no real problem with this although I wasn't relishing the thought of spending the beginning of the yuletide festivities at home with my cats - that was a life statement I was ready to make!

And there he was. My knight in shining armour. He suggested he stay over on Christmas Eve and head off to his mum's Christmas dinner the next day. I hadn't asked him to. I hadn't even dropped subtle hints, ready to get annoyed at him if he didn't pick up on them. We'd only been seeing each other a matter of weeks (about 6 by my calculation) so I was still trying to dish out the 'crazy' in very small portions, if at all!

Fast-forward a few years and he stepped up in a far more important way. Despite having done it before, it would seem that giving birth for a second time - to our enormous son - was a task for which I was ill-equipped. And without him right by my side I would still be there now trying to deliver an 18 month old!

But that little gesture five years ago - that act of kindness - is what he is all about. He hides it well under the façade of being a grumpy bugger most of the time. Bah Humbug and all that. But when something matters, large or small, he knows.

Merry Christmas, I love you.

The Human Body is an Amazing Thing, but...

The human body is an amazing thing.

However, you'd think it would be able to distinguish between a human embryo and a cold virus. As I am writing this from the discomfort and inconvenience of my cold-filled pregnant body, I can confirm that this is not the case.

I am grateful that my body has placed my immune system on 'standby', so as not to reject the tiny person growing inside me. I just wish that didn't mean that, along with all of the other changes and challenges my first trimester body has been dealing with, it has to also deal with a migraine-turned 2 day headache-turned sword swallowers sore throat-turned snot fest.

As if the first trimester weren't bad enough... We all know how pregnancy takes its toll. Obviously the most drastic changes come between not being pregnant and being pregnant. But aside from the physical, there are plenty of psychological hurdles to overcome too.

Firstly, there's the overwhelming excitement that comes with finding out you're pregnant. This very quickly becomes overshadowed by what could easily be described as parenthood. What if there's something 'wrong' with the baby? What if I miscarry? What if there's more than one?!

And no-one can answer these questions until the 'dating' scan at around 12 weeks pregnant!

As if THAT little lot weren't enough to add to the sleepless nights (already facilitated by the hormone-induced need to pee each individual teaspoon of fluid consumed and the hormone-induced aching joints), there's the anxiety over whether anyone has noticed that you're looking tubby/tired/tormented/ecstatic and whether, in turn, you've made the right decision NOT to tell anyone til you've had the all-clear.

You see, the hardest part of all is having no-one to share it with other than daddy-to-be. And we all now that, no matter how great he might be, no-one's quite like your mum/best mate/sis-in-law when it comes to having a good whinge!

Thankfully, tomorrow marks the beginning of the second trimester for me and Sprout. I expect to wake up devoid of lurgy and feeling bright and glowing. At least, that's what my pregnancy app suggested would happen...soon.

A blog's a funny thing...

It starts off as a thought, an idea, an aspiration

Quickly it becomes a project, an outlet, an escape

Quicker still, a responsibility, a weight, a burden

Rather than freeing, it has become a prison

Rather than inspiring, it conspires

No longer harnessing creativity but harbouring impotence

Finally, it becomes what it is:

I am NOT your slave!

This morning I was awoken by the BabyBoy so I fed him in bed. Then I got up. And it went rapidly downhill from there.

My daughter was dithering when faced with the insurmountable task of getting herself 'uniformed'. Apparently the required items hadn't miraculously appeared before her while she lingered in the middle of her room scratching her head. So I helped her sort it out. "Not that ball of trousers, they were the ones you stepped out of yesterday that, if I remember correctly, were soggy round the ankles from this joyous weather" (or words to that effect!

Having quickly ascertained that the clean washing would hold the key, I trotted downstairs (with my extremely achey back - no idea why when I'd just got up unless I have started night-time dead-lifting again). Oh good - both over-laden baskets of clean washing were easy to locate having remained in the same place at the bottom of the stairs for the last three days (amazing how no-one else in the family can SEE them). I trudged no. 1 upstairs, followed closely by no. 2. Sifted, sorted, folded, as I went, and found the necessary garments. Job 1 done, daughter clothed.

Now to rustle-up brekkie and a packed lunch - simple. I enter the dining room to be greeted by last night's dinner plates, leftovers and crumb-strewn table. Nice. I clear all that I can carry, juggling it towards the kitchen where, lo and behold, there is nowhere to abandon my unscheduled delivery. Last night's dinner preparations come screaming back to me - dirty chopping boards, vegetable off-cuts, used tin foil. Yummy. Lucky me. The thought flashes across my brain - I'll just load the dishwasher with it all and the kitchen will look more culinary arena than war-torn cityscape. But wait, the gift that keeps on giving has one last little joy to reveal. No-one has even managed to empty the clean things from the dishwasher.

This is the kitchen equivalent of a cul de sac. Nowhere left to go. So I plump for the only option at my disposal. I clear an area the size of a postage stamp by lobbing any rubbish (I don't care which bin it should have gone it, Mr Council Refuse Collector, it's all gone in the 'general' bin - up yours!), piling dirty utensils, crockery and cutlery on top of other dirty utensils, crockery and cutlery and proceed to the brekkie and lunch making. Breakfast is easy really - grab a bowl, balance in one hand whilst tipping cereal into it, follow with milk, seek clean spoon (remember, there are plenty in the dishwasher even if the drawer is empty) serve to half-cleared table. Make lunch. I think that's Job 2 done!

Crap. It's Friday. PE kit day. Back up the stairs to find tracksuit (for some reason this has been placed in two different parts of the bedroom (!), t-shirt, trainers...well, we had to have the customary discussion first as to why someone's 'fashion' trainers are not appropriate for school PE. But it wouldn't be Friday without covering our friendly familiar ground now would it?! We'll call the school bag, Job 3, done.

COFFEE BREAK

By that, I mean I made time to put the coffee machine on (tiptoeing all the while through the kitchen detritus) and washed up my cup. Drinking it would actually happen as an ongoing coffee phase rather than a break as such.

With my daughter's hair done (plait-ponytail combo today, if you're interested) she was safely an d swiftly shoved (with love) into the car to be dropped at school. Great - I'll pop BabyBoy into the snug, take my cooling coffee in there and park my rear end on the sofa. Seems fair considering... Of course, that is exactly what I did. The End.*



*Having cleared the dirty plates, cups, glasses and rubbish from every possible surface, seat and portion of floor which was not concealed under the toy-carpet... The toys can bugger off - they can wait 'til later - I have a bathroom to scrub today, a kitchen to retrieve, dinner to cook and a nervous breakdown to fit in first $|

Friday's Film Feast - Number 1.

Friday's Film Festival

Not quite as simple as it sounds, I assure you. Every Friday (hopefully!) I plan on choosing a film from my modest collection of DVDs but there will be nothing so straightforward as a review/summary/synopsis/critique. I plan on drawing inspiration from it - either a direct experience or memory associated with watching said film or perhaps something less direct... We'll see how it goes!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
This week's film...could easily be dismissed as a slushy rom-com. But hear me out.

I have a huge problem with online dating and computer match-making. On the one hand, it makes sense: logical, thorough, efficient. Everything that appeals to my scientific brain. In pursuit of the right career, the best-performing car, a good builder, why not use a computer system which matches your 'wanted' criteria with 'offered' criteria and advise of the results? Brilliant.

Why can't we apply the same process to meeting the right person? We just can't! How many people end up with someone who would actually fit their 'wanted' criteria? How many people go on dates with the perfect 'on-paper' partner and find that there is a chasm between them? It is as if we're hoping that, by process of elimination, we will eventually sift through the world's population until we are finally left with that one person who is The One! Only 7 billion to get through - easy.

I suppose it could work. But in reality, the head has no place in matters of the heart. That's the whole point. That's why we fall for people we meet at University, at work, through mutual friends, bumping into them in Starbucks every lunchtime... For me, there has to be an element of romance to it all. It doesn't have to be the Disney fairytale - all sweeping off feet etc... That almost never happens. But just sometimes you get the feeling you were meant to meet that special someone.

Serendipity. "...the accident of finding something good or useful while not specifically searching for it."

Exactly my point. Everyone knows that when you are actually looking for something, you won't find it. Stop looking and you're bound to fall over it! To me, I think it means that it's written in the stars (feel free to puke at this point but there is a little science in my sloppiness!) The word 'seren' means 'stars' in more than just the Welsh language. Not got much to say about the 'dipity'.

Watch the film. It's a lovely story. And it somehow eases the blow when you really thought it was going to work out with someone and, for whatever reason, it didn't. Maybe that's just because it wasn't the right time. Maybe it will happen, but not yet. Perhaps what happened was exactly what was meant to be - you were supposed to be friends and nothing more. They were supposed to play a 'bit part' rather than a 'recurring character'. Some people may not play the role in our lives that we had expected, predicted or desired. That's no bad thing. It should give hope that 'things' will work out in the end. Somehow. Even when they seem to be going wrong, perhaps they're taking you one step closer to 'right'.

Buy it on Amazon for £6 - Can't argue!

Happy Friday! Have a good weekend Ponderers.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Feel free to leave a comment. Or come join us on www.facebook.com/PondersNeverEnd

A Picture Speaks a Thousand Words...

Sarah Grimwood (c) Taken 27/07/2008 @ 16:21

They say a picture speaks a thousand words...so welcome  to Thursday's Thousand Words!

I figured it would get boring if I just rambled away all the time so Thursdays are now photo days. Not entirely word-free, you understand.

So why this pic, you ask? Hmm... First of all, I took this photo. Secondly, I am extremely proud of it. To a proper photographer there are undoubtedly countless flaws but as a hapless amateur I have the advantage of being able to simply revel in my simple-minded appreciation of it.

One of my favourite things about this picture is all the things it doesn't tell you. Things you wouldn't even guess.

• This was taken in the UK, despite the tropical sky in the background.
• Nope, not Devon or some renowned beauty spot but Wythenshawe (Manchester).
• And I didn't visit the nearest botanical gardens where dahlias like these are tended by horticultural manicurists every five minutes
• These belong to my best friend's Mumsy who grows them on her allotment.

See, told you you'd never guess.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Find me on http://www.Facebook.com/PondersNeverEnd and give me a little LIKE