It's early in the morning, the sun hasn't even risen yet, and I'm laying here enjoying life, kind of. I'm laying in a king sized bed and yet I'm hanging off the edge. The Raving Rev is sound asleep next to me, not hanging off the bed. I have my two year old spooning next to me and my 11 month old, all wrapped up, also laying on me.
It's quiet, everything is peaceful and I look at my little family. Foolishly I can't resist giving my two year old, D, a squeeze and stroking the face of my 11 month old, S. CRUD....don't wake up, don't wake up! A cross between a prayer and a plea passes on my lips, please don't wake up yet. They both wriggle but calm back down into sleep, phew. Dodged a bullet there, thank you God. It took over forty five minutes to get S down to sleep last night. It's been a chaotic week where my life has been turned upside down and I've had a cold so I'm not at my best and I need sleep.
I drift back off into peaceful, dangerous (in case I fall out of bed) slumber to suddenly be rudely awoken by the Raving Rev's alarm. What? Why? He crawls out of bed and they start crawling over me, I groan. "Why are you up so early?" I moan. "It's my exam today and my driving lesson. I'll be back by four" comes the reply. I am awake now. WHAT? "You're leaving me? On my own for the whole day with these two?" Apparently he has to. The exam is important, it's on the road to becoming a minister. How selfish can you get? Wanting to take an exam and leaving me to deal with D and S on my own tut. He creeps out the house and I wrap D and S up and convince them to snuggle down with mummy for a nap which they do. Ahhh, bliss.
BREAKFAST! So the day begins. We get up and get breakfast. Toys are strewn everywhere and no matter how many times I tidy, they are back all over the place within seconds. I straighten the covers on the settee for sixth time in an hour and look at them. I need to shower but dare I leave them on their own? S keeps trying to eat the flowers and annoy the rabbit. She also annoys her brother, D, when she's bored and it starts a fight. I look at them. D is happily staring out the window watching the world go by, minding his own business. S is playing with her toys. Ok, if I'm quick, I can do this. I run upstairs and climb into the shower, turn around and find S trying to climb in with me. "What? You don't like showers! Why are you up here?" She stares at me and wanders off. I'm concerned, that means she's up to mischief. I wash my hair in record breaking time, get dressed in under 30 seconds and race downstairs to find.....nothing. Everything is fine. I eye them both suspiciouosly. I walk over to the settee and straighten the covers again and that's when they start. I turn around to be met with a fully fledged fight. Screaming, yelling, teeth, feet, you name it, they're using it. I drag them apart, telling them both off. Great, now I'll have sulks for the rest of the day. Again they sideswipe me, thirty seconds later they're playing together making out nothing had happened. It's a conspiracy I'm sure of it.
I decide to do a bit of multi-tasking while they're playing so well. I decide to phone my mum and do a bit of housework while they're playing. I learnt to not do that again. The conversation with my mum went something like this:
"Hi mum, how are you?"
"Hello love, we're fine. How are things with you? How's the little ones?"
"They're fine. They're playing at the moment and will you get that out of your mouth? You don't know where it's been"
"What?"
"Sorry mum, two ticks. S....get that out of your mouth. Let go.....let go. I'm going to count to three."
"Hahaha, playing you up are they?"
"Two....a bit yeah.....THREE. Thank you, now go and play. I managed to get a shower though without DON'T SIT ON HER HEAD!"
So the conversation went on and I began to despair, wondering if I will ever be able to have a proper adult conversation again.
After lunch we go out for a walk. I decide to go down to one of the stoney beaches with them and it was wonderful watching them running around on the walk there. S is intrigued by the cows and loves the sheep. She finds them fascinating. D just wants to get to the beach and play with the stones. They run in and out of the mud and S falls into a muddy ditch. She charges up to me, jumps and cuddles me. I hug her and smile and put her down, loving this moment with them. Then I look down and see that my clean jeans are now covered in mud. I sigh. I guess I'm destined to not have clean clothes anymore, oh well, it's worth it. We play, we explore, we take photos. All is good. We get home and they collapse, exhausted and I drink a nice hot cup of tea. They're so gorgeous when they're asleep. I stroke S on the cheek, I can't resist. She looks so cute and adorable. CRUD, don't wake up, don't wake up! When will I learn?
Suddenly the postman bangs at the door, waking both of them and making me spill hot tea all over myself. S starts shouting, she hates people knocking at the door and D goes and hides in a corner because he's got a fright. The postman looks at me in shock. My hair is wild and windswept; my eyes have dark circles from lack of sleep; I'm covered in hot tea and mud and I'm trying to hush S, who is yelling at the top of her voice whilst I comfort D and tell him everything is ok. The postman has the nerve to laugh! "Rough day?" he asks with a knowing grin. Normally I would laugh but my legs are on fire from the tea and I'm being deafened in one ear by S. I grab the mail, mutter thanks and retreat inside. I retrieve D from the corner and cuddle him but S who is tired and grumpy, pushes him off my lap because she wants cuddles. Thus starts the mass sulking and the telling off and my legs are now numb, I think I have third degree burns. At that moment, the Raving Rev walks through the door and just stares. The house is completely trashed. I'm a complete mess and the young 'uns are covered in mud, overtired and playing up. He grins. S runs to him for a cuddle and suddenly they both turn into angels. Daddy is home. The Raving Rev cooks dinner while I get changed and they both fall asleep for him. The rest of the evening passed with us all unconscious on the settee.
We head to bed, cuddle them both and put them to bed. S only protests for five minutes this time before collapsing exhausted into her bed. I lay in the dark listening to them both snoring and smile. I snuggle up to the Raving Rev. "Well done, you survived" he whispers. I grin. "I did. Don't leave me again, they'll kill me next time". He laughs and we drift off to sleep. At some point in the night they crawl up on the bed and I'm hanging off the edge again. I snuggle up to them, enjoying our family. I stroke them because they are so cute when they're asleep. Damn it! Don't wake up....don't wake up......
An important fact that I should admit to here and that you the reader should know is that my 'kids' are furbabys. They are my dogs. In the past week we got the 11 month old puppy, S, which is why our lives have been turned upside down. It's been a tough week but we are now all settling and this is my family - the Raving Rev, D and S and myself. To all the women out there who have human children and dogs, I am in awe of you. Barely coping with two dogs I dread to think how I'd manage with kids as well. God Bless you all.
Tuesday 10 December 2013
Saturday 12 October 2013
The Uninvited Guest
You know the ones I mean. The guest that turns up unexpectedly and unannounced. They charge into your lovely quiet life in a whirl of noise and chaos. They decide that they will stay indefinitely. They eat you out of house and home. They make you scream and cower in the corner, sobbing. You want to love them and welcome them but when they keep jumping out on you, moving incredibly fast, eating your food, making a mess, fraying your nerves, it can become more than challenging to love them.
My guest arrived at 7am! Yes, that's right, 7 in the MORNING! Who does that? Who shows up at 7am? Not only that, they didn't even knock! Oh no, they just scampered their way straight up to my bedroom where the Raving Rev and I were deep in slumber. Did they wake me up gently, with a cup of tea? No they did not. They woke me up with such a fright I'm amazed I didn't have a heart attack.
I was deep in the land of dreams, enjoying an adventure, when I became aware of a noise. An unnerving, sets your teeth on edge kind of noise. I was rapidly pulled out of sleep and I was aware that something was in the room with us, something that should not have been there. I sat bolt up right, heart thundering in my chest (and ears) and strained to listen. It was coming from the bottom of the bed. I strained my eyes to see in the gloom. It wasn't the dog, he was snoring in his bed. What was it? In my sleep addled state my brain quickly worked out what it was. There was a giant, hairy, six foot rat at the bottom of the bed, chewing our shoes and getting ready to snack on us. I nearly screamed in fear but managed to contain it for fear of letting the beast know that I was awake. I shook the Raving Rev awake. As he stirred moaning I hissed at him "Ssshhhh......listen." Hearing the panic in my voice the Raving Rev instantly turned to a statue (I've never seen anyone go as still as he did) and he listened. "What is it?" I whisper. I already know that it's a six foot rat but I'm praying that I may, on this one occasion, be wrong. "Sssshh" he replies. I can stand it no longer. The darkness, the weird gnawing noise, the snoring dog (oh yes, through this whole terror the dog slept, completely unaware) I turn on the bedside light. "Aaaaargh" screams the Raving Rev. "WHAT?" I scream in response. Obviously the six foot rat is about to attack and the Raving Rev is screaming in fear and I'm about to join him. "You've blinded me turning on the stupid light" he grumbles. The noise stopped for a moment. I looked. The six foot rat had disappeared. "What is it?" I whisper. "It's a mouse, go back to sleep" mutters the Raving Rev. A mouse! In the bedroom, chewing at our stuff and he wants me to go back to sleep? Is the man stupid? "It's not even two feet away from the dog and he hasn't even woken up. He's not doing his job" I moan. "Sitting on you" replied the Raving Rev. It was at this point that all hell broke loose in the bedroom. You see, the Raving Rev meant that the dog's job is to sit on me and cuddle me. What I heard was this.
"Sitting on you" which translated as "Red, the rat is sitting on you. It's demonic red eyes are staring at you and it's baring its teeth. It is about to leap up and take a bite of you and then try to devour you." Well obviously I'm not just going to sit still and let this happen. I leap up into a crouch and start to crawl out from under the bed covers, but wait.....that exposes more flesh for the rat to bite. I grab the covers and start to slink under them whilst trying to crawl across the Raving Rev and get out of his side of the bed. I figure if I can grab the dog and outrun the Rev, I've got a chance. All the while I'm making shrill little noises of confusion and fear. As I scrabble across the bed trying to keep the covers over my head I hear "I MEANT THE DOG! His job is to sit on you. Will you stop trying to push me behind you?" Ah. Ahem. I look sheepishly at the Rev. He pushes me back onto my side of the bed. "Go to sleep" he commands. "Um...could you at least open the bedroom door so that the rat can escape the bedroom please?" I whine. He huffs and corrects me. "It's a mouse not a rat". I'm not sure how he could be certain as he hadn't seen it but at 7am, I'm not going to argue with him. I'll just be standing there all smug when the rat is chewing his arm off.
With the bedroom door open and the light off we settle down but the rodent starts again! How am I supposed to sleep through this racket? I poke the Raving Rev. He huffs and stomps out of bed. He grabbed his rucksack at the bottom of the bed and marched out of the room with it. He came back a few minutes later. "I think it was trapped in my rucksack so I've put it outside". The noise stopped. It had indeed been trapped in his rucksack. I settled down, calmer and also happy that my man had released the rat/mouse back out into nature. WRONG. I later found out that morning that the Raving Rev had not put the rucksack out into the garden to release the mouse. No, he had put the rucksack out on the landing, thus releasing the mouse into house. Great.
Since then our guest has popped out on us making us both scream. The best one was it ran across the floor in the front room when the Raving Rev was watching tv. It made the Rev jump and then bolted behind the tv. Now the Raving Rev was very brave and stalked over to the tv. He peered behind the set and screamed. Not a deep manly grunt but a high pitched, very girly, hands waving in the air kind of scream. He was very bravely screaming at my toy brown alpaca. It had fallen behind the tv and the Rev thought that it was a rat. I would like to argue here that it was a rat, the same six foot rat that was at the bottom of the bed but the Rev points out that it wasn't six foot high. I must say, it inspires confidence in me to know that when there is a threat my husband will scream like a girl and cower in the corner. I feel safe and protected, ahem.
The mouse has been eating the cheese we've putting out to bait it. It is a mastermind, it can avoid traps. Yes, I know, traps are horrible and I hate using them but I'm sorry, when my guest won't take the hint that it's time to leave serious action needs to be taken.
So, we still have our guest. They have learnt to be more quiet and have only taken to making us scream like girls at least once a week. I'm praying that they'll soon decide to go and live with someone else for a while. Mind you, I'm not sure who else would make a six foot, red-eyed rat that will eat you welcome...........
My guest arrived at 7am! Yes, that's right, 7 in the MORNING! Who does that? Who shows up at 7am? Not only that, they didn't even knock! Oh no, they just scampered their way straight up to my bedroom where the Raving Rev and I were deep in slumber. Did they wake me up gently, with a cup of tea? No they did not. They woke me up with such a fright I'm amazed I didn't have a heart attack.
I was deep in the land of dreams, enjoying an adventure, when I became aware of a noise. An unnerving, sets your teeth on edge kind of noise. I was rapidly pulled out of sleep and I was aware that something was in the room with us, something that should not have been there. I sat bolt up right, heart thundering in my chest (and ears) and strained to listen. It was coming from the bottom of the bed. I strained my eyes to see in the gloom. It wasn't the dog, he was snoring in his bed. What was it? In my sleep addled state my brain quickly worked out what it was. There was a giant, hairy, six foot rat at the bottom of the bed, chewing our shoes and getting ready to snack on us. I nearly screamed in fear but managed to contain it for fear of letting the beast know that I was awake. I shook the Raving Rev awake. As he stirred moaning I hissed at him "Ssshhhh......listen." Hearing the panic in my voice the Raving Rev instantly turned to a statue (I've never seen anyone go as still as he did) and he listened. "What is it?" I whisper. I already know that it's a six foot rat but I'm praying that I may, on this one occasion, be wrong. "Sssshh" he replies. I can stand it no longer. The darkness, the weird gnawing noise, the snoring dog (oh yes, through this whole terror the dog slept, completely unaware) I turn on the bedside light. "Aaaaargh" screams the Raving Rev. "WHAT?" I scream in response. Obviously the six foot rat is about to attack and the Raving Rev is screaming in fear and I'm about to join him. "You've blinded me turning on the stupid light" he grumbles. The noise stopped for a moment. I looked. The six foot rat had disappeared. "What is it?" I whisper. "It's a mouse, go back to sleep" mutters the Raving Rev. A mouse! In the bedroom, chewing at our stuff and he wants me to go back to sleep? Is the man stupid? "It's not even two feet away from the dog and he hasn't even woken up. He's not doing his job" I moan. "Sitting on you" replied the Raving Rev. It was at this point that all hell broke loose in the bedroom. You see, the Raving Rev meant that the dog's job is to sit on me and cuddle me. What I heard was this.
"Sitting on you" which translated as "Red, the rat is sitting on you. It's demonic red eyes are staring at you and it's baring its teeth. It is about to leap up and take a bite of you and then try to devour you." Well obviously I'm not just going to sit still and let this happen. I leap up into a crouch and start to crawl out from under the bed covers, but wait.....that exposes more flesh for the rat to bite. I grab the covers and start to slink under them whilst trying to crawl across the Raving Rev and get out of his side of the bed. I figure if I can grab the dog and outrun the Rev, I've got a chance. All the while I'm making shrill little noises of confusion and fear. As I scrabble across the bed trying to keep the covers over my head I hear "I MEANT THE DOG! His job is to sit on you. Will you stop trying to push me behind you?" Ah. Ahem. I look sheepishly at the Rev. He pushes me back onto my side of the bed. "Go to sleep" he commands. "Um...could you at least open the bedroom door so that the rat can escape the bedroom please?" I whine. He huffs and corrects me. "It's a mouse not a rat". I'm not sure how he could be certain as he hadn't seen it but at 7am, I'm not going to argue with him. I'll just be standing there all smug when the rat is chewing his arm off.
With the bedroom door open and the light off we settle down but the rodent starts again! How am I supposed to sleep through this racket? I poke the Raving Rev. He huffs and stomps out of bed. He grabbed his rucksack at the bottom of the bed and marched out of the room with it. He came back a few minutes later. "I think it was trapped in my rucksack so I've put it outside". The noise stopped. It had indeed been trapped in his rucksack. I settled down, calmer and also happy that my man had released the rat/mouse back out into nature. WRONG. I later found out that morning that the Raving Rev had not put the rucksack out into the garden to release the mouse. No, he had put the rucksack out on the landing, thus releasing the mouse into house. Great.
Since then our guest has popped out on us making us both scream. The best one was it ran across the floor in the front room when the Raving Rev was watching tv. It made the Rev jump and then bolted behind the tv. Now the Raving Rev was very brave and stalked over to the tv. He peered behind the set and screamed. Not a deep manly grunt but a high pitched, very girly, hands waving in the air kind of scream. He was very bravely screaming at my toy brown alpaca. It had fallen behind the tv and the Rev thought that it was a rat. I would like to argue here that it was a rat, the same six foot rat that was at the bottom of the bed but the Rev points out that it wasn't six foot high. I must say, it inspires confidence in me to know that when there is a threat my husband will scream like a girl and cower in the corner. I feel safe and protected, ahem.
The mouse has been eating the cheese we've putting out to bait it. It is a mastermind, it can avoid traps. Yes, I know, traps are horrible and I hate using them but I'm sorry, when my guest won't take the hint that it's time to leave serious action needs to be taken.
So, we still have our guest. They have learnt to be more quiet and have only taken to making us scream like girls at least once a week. I'm praying that they'll soon decide to go and live with someone else for a while. Mind you, I'm not sure who else would make a six foot, red-eyed rat that will eat you welcome...........
Sunday 15 September 2013
Testing Products
Woohoo! I got to test a product for free! Oh yeah! How, I hear you ask? (Well if you didn't, you should have). I signed up with a company called Super Savvy Me quite a while ago and I joined their panel. Long story short, I apply to be part of projects and if I'm selected they send me the product to try and give feedback on, it's fantastic (and very minister's wife, no?).
So my product is the new Ariel 3-in-1 pods. I received this lovely starter pack.
So my product is the new Ariel 3-in-1 pods. I received this lovely starter pack.
A full size box with 16 pods in it; a book of money off vouchers; a project handbook; feedback forms and, most importantly, 10 free samples for me to share, yay! It's marvellous.
I admit when I got it that I was like a kid at Christmas. I had received a parcel in the post, that means presents (in my head anyway). I opened the box to find another box, ooooh. I opened that box to find, you guessed it, ANOTHER BOX! Thankfully this was the outside of the Ariel box so I knew that the 'presents' would be inside. Ta-Dah! A big grin spread across my face, new stuff to try. This product is perfect to enhance my practice to become a minister's wife. You see, washing clothes is the one skill that I have. I have not (as yet) ever had clothes colours run in the wash, thus dying all the other clothes (I have accomplished this outside of the washing machine in the wet washing basket but that's a different story and skill). Nor have I ever shrunk clothes or stretched them - washing clothes is my forte.
So I start rooting around in the box and grab out my box of washing pods. I place the box proudly above the washing machine and dash upstairs, faster than a speeding snail. I grab armfuls of clothes, drop them and grab different clothes, drop them and stare. What clothes do I want to wash first? Do I wash the towels? The heavily stained jeans that the Raving Rev has been wearing whilst doing decorating and mud walks? My delicate clothes that are covered in baking stains (again, another story)? Which ones? Hmmm, I decide upon the towels followed by the Raving Rev's clothes. I grab armfuls of towels and dash downstairs (the dash was inadvertent as I kind of slipped and skidded a wee bit on the way down. Thankfully I stayed upright and just looked like a giant weeble teetering on the stairs).
I grab open the door to the washing machine and with manic glee start stuffing the towels into it. I grab the box and I swear, I must have looked like a crazy woman ripping open a box of chocolates, such was my excitement. I grabbed a pod and stared at it. They're very pretty. Green on the bottom with blue and white segments on the top, ooooh. I lob the pod into the machine, slam the door shut, select the wash and wait. Ok, sadly, I kind of stayed squatted in front of the washing machine for a while to see the tablet and what it would do. After the Raving Rev climbed past three times, he pointed out how sad I was being and I, reluctantly, left the washing machine and the pod to do their thing.
So results? I won't bore you with all the details of the washes but they're not bad. They didn't remove all the stains from the old tea towels but in the pods defence, these are extremely tough, ground in stains. They did remove all other stains from clothes well and, more impressively, brightened the clothes. I thought that perhaps it was me wanting the clothes to be brighter but the Raving Rev passed comment on it "What you added to make the towels brighter?" Result! Maybe they do do what they say on the tin haha. So now I have clean, bright, stain free clothes. Exactly what a minister's wife should have.
TTFN.
Friday 16 August 2013
Chaos in the summer sun
Hello everyone! Yes, I'm finally back. Did you miss me?
It has been a busy year and I've completely lost track of all time and I have so many stories to share with you. I have been doing training sessions to ready me for becoming a 'Minister's Wife'; going on summer camp with 40 teenagers; getting into soggy dilemma's on holiday; getting used to a girly car; discovering that much loved childhood songs can sound very dodgy when only sung in part and out of context and just generally causing chaos.
With it fresh in my mind, I'll tell you about my summer. Startlingly we start with a hot, sunny day. Now for some of you this is an obvious thing in summer but where I live the sun is not guaranteed in summer (more likely flooding from the rain) and heat is most definitely not a given. This day was rare. It was hot; it was sunny; there was no breeze; it was amazing! Now, as if I had known it was coming, a couple of weeks earlier I had been to visit my parents and I went shopping with my mum. For a laugh I decided to try on some hideous clothes. You know the kind I mean, the clothes that are hanging in the sale rack for an obvious reason. No-one in their right mind would wear these clothes and the designers must have been under the influence of some narcotic to have created them. I grabbed an arm load and dragged my poor mum off to the changing rooms. Mum was having a whale of a time and got her camera out to take photos of me in the seriously bad clothing.
There was the skirt that was made out of weird stretchy material, had an elasticated waistband and the design was that of comic strips. I put it on and by the time I had finished doing my 'catwalk' (you know the walk ladies. The one where you parade up and down the changing room doing a walk that you would never do in public along with the obligatory hair flick as you turn around and walk away from the mirror) the skirt had flared out in crazy places and tried to ball itself up into a sausage in other places (and no, before you say it, it wasn't because it was too small for me or that I was too fat for it). On to the next garish top followed by a dress that looked like a unicorn had sneezed on it. What fun my mum and I were having but then things went horribly wrong. In amongst the horrid clothes was an awful blue dress which had large daisies all over it and the most hideous, big, square yellow bow sat in the centre of the chest area. It was disgusting. I grabbed it, ready to put it on and laugh at how awful I looked in it but something happened. Something went horribly wrong. It actually suited me! The cut was perfect; the length was just right; the blue suited my skin tone and even the hideous yellow bow changed to being cute. Oh good grief, how could this happen? I meekly went out to my mum and even she stopped laughing and said "That suits you. That really suits you. The bow even makes you look like a minister's wife" and with that she started laughing again, much harder than was strictly necessary. I stared horrified in the mirror. It did suit me. I looked cute! I looked like a minister's wife in training. It was bizarre. Needless to say, after that dress I lost the will to try on anymore 'hideous' clothes in case they suited me and mum bought me the dress with a very malicious gleeful look on her face I must say.
Back to the hot summer day and I put this dress on. The Raving Rev grins and drags me outside for a photo. He then puts the photo on FB to which many of my friends commented on it. The worst part of that though was that my dad shared it with his friends with the comment underneath "My youngest daughter, actually in a dress" humph. I wore a dress four years ago when I got married and I wore one at Christmas when I was doing my impression of a 1950's housewife. I scared my neighbour when I went bounding into her house in my dress. She tried desperately to stifle a laugh and said "My goodness Red, you've got legs". OK, so the people here haven't actually ever seen me in a dress or skirt and I've been here for 3 years but that doesn't mean that I never wear dresses, just when people don't see me haha. My friend laughed out loud when she saw me with the response of "very minister's wife and soooo cute I wanna cuddle you". Needless to say, since that day the dress has been washed and hidden away.
There's loads more for me to tell you but I shall save it for more stories to come. What I shall leave you with is the story of the Raving Rev and I on the beach during our holiday.
We went over to a neighbouring island with my mum and the two dogs. We had decided to go over to one of the beaches where we could paddle in the beautifully crystal clear waters and the dogs could run around without causing mischief. The trip over was eventful. We were the first onto the wee ferry that takes you over, which means that the car was right up against the ramp. The ferry sets off and we're all chatting and having a laugh. However, as the ferry nears the port on the other side, it begins to lower the ramp. Now the Raving Rev and I are used to this and we were expecting it but I forgot that mum had never been over and was not expecting it. Suddenly, during mid conversation, mum starts flailing her arms around all over the car and making the most bizarre noises. Think Frankie Howard with the "Oo-er". I stare at my mum wondering if she is having some sort of fit and wondering why she's bracing herself against the dashboard. The Raving Rev who is in the back of the car, has worked out what's happening and is laughing so hard that I'm wondering if he's going to need an inhaler. I suddenly cotton on that mum is panicking about the ramp (the clue was when she screamed "Oh f*** we're sinking") and I also began to laugh. The ferryman who was next to us was also laughing at mum and was overjoyed when the Raving Rev thanked him for giving us a good laugh.
The ferry trip behind us we set off to the beach. We park up and discover that there are loads of tourists there (how dare they!) but there is a deserted beach next to it, across a burn. Mum looks at the whole situation and decides to stay in the car. The Raving Rev and I grab the dogs and set off. Now, the Raving Rev had decided that he was going swimming so he bought his swim shorts, towels, change of clothes etc. He was a boy scout, he was prepared. I on the other hand had decided to paddle but did not want to go out into the water so I bought nothing with me. You can see where this going already can't you?
The Raving Rev and I get to the burn and I'm looking at it suspiciously. It's much deeper than I originally thought and even with my jeans rolled up, I'm going to get wet. Even the dogs are not too keen on swimming over. I stare at the Raving Rev as he takes his shoes off. He flung them at me, turned his back to me and said "hop on". Now already alarm bells are going off in my head. We'll fall in, I know we will. I state this and the Raving Rev stares at me. "Don't be silly we'll be fine. I can carry you over and back, come on. Don't be a wuss." So I climb on to the Raving Rev's back, praying that I'm not heavy enough to cause him some sort of awful injury and we set off. He takes one step, then another, then a third, woohoo, we're getting across. Then....he wobbles. "It's getting really deep and the rocks are hurting my feet." Gulp. I am already laughing. I know what is coming, it's as if I can see the future. The Raving Rev takes another tentative step forward, smacks his toe into a hidden rock, howls with pain and then we are going down. He leans backwards so that I will obviously break his fall and we land, waist deep in the water, me with my poor behind slammed into the rocks and his weight on top of me. The dogs are going nuts trying to work out if they should come out to us or not. I'm laughing hysterically (probably defence mechanism so that I don't drown him). He is laughing and wriggling on top of me trying to get up and my mum, who is watching from the safety of the bank, collapses in a heap laughing at us. I put my hands down into the water and push up to get myself out while he screams "not my shoes". Oh yeah, I was holding his shoes so that they would stay dry, now they're wet, like mine.
We continued across the burn, paddled with the dogs, returned back to the car and thankfully, the Raving Rev had a spare pair of shorts for me to change into and my mum had bought her awful 'granny' shoes that I squeezed into to drive home in. This story, however, does not end there. There is another hidden lesson in it. Always use insect repellent when going out. You see, the Raving Rev and my poor mum were bitten half to death from the bugs. I received no bites (even the bugs know not to annoy me) but my poor mum had 64 bites, most of which blistered and some went infected. So always wear your insect repellent and don't laugh at the youth worker's misfortune haha.
Blessings
It has been a busy year and I've completely lost track of all time and I have so many stories to share with you. I have been doing training sessions to ready me for becoming a 'Minister's Wife'; going on summer camp with 40 teenagers; getting into soggy dilemma's on holiday; getting used to a girly car; discovering that much loved childhood songs can sound very dodgy when only sung in part and out of context and just generally causing chaos.
With it fresh in my mind, I'll tell you about my summer. Startlingly we start with a hot, sunny day. Now for some of you this is an obvious thing in summer but where I live the sun is not guaranteed in summer (more likely flooding from the rain) and heat is most definitely not a given. This day was rare. It was hot; it was sunny; there was no breeze; it was amazing! Now, as if I had known it was coming, a couple of weeks earlier I had been to visit my parents and I went shopping with my mum. For a laugh I decided to try on some hideous clothes. You know the kind I mean, the clothes that are hanging in the sale rack for an obvious reason. No-one in their right mind would wear these clothes and the designers must have been under the influence of some narcotic to have created them. I grabbed an arm load and dragged my poor mum off to the changing rooms. Mum was having a whale of a time and got her camera out to take photos of me in the seriously bad clothing.
There was the skirt that was made out of weird stretchy material, had an elasticated waistband and the design was that of comic strips. I put it on and by the time I had finished doing my 'catwalk' (you know the walk ladies. The one where you parade up and down the changing room doing a walk that you would never do in public along with the obligatory hair flick as you turn around and walk away from the mirror) the skirt had flared out in crazy places and tried to ball itself up into a sausage in other places (and no, before you say it, it wasn't because it was too small for me or that I was too fat for it). On to the next garish top followed by a dress that looked like a unicorn had sneezed on it. What fun my mum and I were having but then things went horribly wrong. In amongst the horrid clothes was an awful blue dress which had large daisies all over it and the most hideous, big, square yellow bow sat in the centre of the chest area. It was disgusting. I grabbed it, ready to put it on and laugh at how awful I looked in it but something happened. Something went horribly wrong. It actually suited me! The cut was perfect; the length was just right; the blue suited my skin tone and even the hideous yellow bow changed to being cute. Oh good grief, how could this happen? I meekly went out to my mum and even she stopped laughing and said "That suits you. That really suits you. The bow even makes you look like a minister's wife" and with that she started laughing again, much harder than was strictly necessary. I stared horrified in the mirror. It did suit me. I looked cute! I looked like a minister's wife in training. It was bizarre. Needless to say, after that dress I lost the will to try on anymore 'hideous' clothes in case they suited me and mum bought me the dress with a very malicious gleeful look on her face I must say.
Back to the hot summer day and I put this dress on. The Raving Rev grins and drags me outside for a photo. He then puts the photo on FB to which many of my friends commented on it. The worst part of that though was that my dad shared it with his friends with the comment underneath "My youngest daughter, actually in a dress" humph. I wore a dress four years ago when I got married and I wore one at Christmas when I was doing my impression of a 1950's housewife. I scared my neighbour when I went bounding into her house in my dress. She tried desperately to stifle a laugh and said "My goodness Red, you've got legs". OK, so the people here haven't actually ever seen me in a dress or skirt and I've been here for 3 years but that doesn't mean that I never wear dresses, just when people don't see me haha. My friend laughed out loud when she saw me with the response of "very minister's wife and soooo cute I wanna cuddle you". Needless to say, since that day the dress has been washed and hidden away.
There's loads more for me to tell you but I shall save it for more stories to come. What I shall leave you with is the story of the Raving Rev and I on the beach during our holiday.
We went over to a neighbouring island with my mum and the two dogs. We had decided to go over to one of the beaches where we could paddle in the beautifully crystal clear waters and the dogs could run around without causing mischief. The trip over was eventful. We were the first onto the wee ferry that takes you over, which means that the car was right up against the ramp. The ferry sets off and we're all chatting and having a laugh. However, as the ferry nears the port on the other side, it begins to lower the ramp. Now the Raving Rev and I are used to this and we were expecting it but I forgot that mum had never been over and was not expecting it. Suddenly, during mid conversation, mum starts flailing her arms around all over the car and making the most bizarre noises. Think Frankie Howard with the "Oo-er". I stare at my mum wondering if she is having some sort of fit and wondering why she's bracing herself against the dashboard. The Raving Rev who is in the back of the car, has worked out what's happening and is laughing so hard that I'm wondering if he's going to need an inhaler. I suddenly cotton on that mum is panicking about the ramp (the clue was when she screamed "Oh f*** we're sinking") and I also began to laugh. The ferryman who was next to us was also laughing at mum and was overjoyed when the Raving Rev thanked him for giving us a good laugh.
The ferry trip behind us we set off to the beach. We park up and discover that there are loads of tourists there (how dare they!) but there is a deserted beach next to it, across a burn. Mum looks at the whole situation and decides to stay in the car. The Raving Rev and I grab the dogs and set off. Now, the Raving Rev had decided that he was going swimming so he bought his swim shorts, towels, change of clothes etc. He was a boy scout, he was prepared. I on the other hand had decided to paddle but did not want to go out into the water so I bought nothing with me. You can see where this going already can't you?
The Raving Rev and I get to the burn and I'm looking at it suspiciously. It's much deeper than I originally thought and even with my jeans rolled up, I'm going to get wet. Even the dogs are not too keen on swimming over. I stare at the Raving Rev as he takes his shoes off. He flung them at me, turned his back to me and said "hop on". Now already alarm bells are going off in my head. We'll fall in, I know we will. I state this and the Raving Rev stares at me. "Don't be silly we'll be fine. I can carry you over and back, come on. Don't be a wuss." So I climb on to the Raving Rev's back, praying that I'm not heavy enough to cause him some sort of awful injury and we set off. He takes one step, then another, then a third, woohoo, we're getting across. Then....he wobbles. "It's getting really deep and the rocks are hurting my feet." Gulp. I am already laughing. I know what is coming, it's as if I can see the future. The Raving Rev takes another tentative step forward, smacks his toe into a hidden rock, howls with pain and then we are going down. He leans backwards so that I will obviously break his fall and we land, waist deep in the water, me with my poor behind slammed into the rocks and his weight on top of me. The dogs are going nuts trying to work out if they should come out to us or not. I'm laughing hysterically (probably defence mechanism so that I don't drown him). He is laughing and wriggling on top of me trying to get up and my mum, who is watching from the safety of the bank, collapses in a heap laughing at us. I put my hands down into the water and push up to get myself out while he screams "not my shoes". Oh yeah, I was holding his shoes so that they would stay dry, now they're wet, like mine.
We continued across the burn, paddled with the dogs, returned back to the car and thankfully, the Raving Rev had a spare pair of shorts for me to change into and my mum had bought her awful 'granny' shoes that I squeezed into to drive home in. This story, however, does not end there. There is another hidden lesson in it. Always use insect repellent when going out. You see, the Raving Rev and my poor mum were bitten half to death from the bugs. I received no bites (even the bugs know not to annoy me) but my poor mum had 64 bites, most of which blistered and some went infected. So always wear your insect repellent and don't laugh at the youth worker's misfortune haha.
Blessings
Monday 11 March 2013
Hello all and hello spring! Spring? Sprriiinnngg? I swear it was here two days ago, honest. The sun was out, it was warmer, the snowdrops were making an appearance as were the daffodils. Now it's snowing and 0 degrees, grrrr. Don't get me wrong, I like the snow but I like it in winter, I'm sure it's supposed to be spring now.
Well the past couple of months have been hectic and a bit stressful. The Raving Rev and I are doing so much travelling and work right now that if we get to see each other for one evening a week, it's cause for celebration. How do we celebrate our time together? As all married couples do, asleep in front of the tv, oh the romance haha. My training to become a minister's wife is not going well and I seem to be failing sob. For instance, minister's wives should be calm, peaceful and approachable. I have not been any of the aforementioned of late and so decided that I should do something about it.
I took the dog and myself down to a quiet cove on a lovely (spring) day last week. My intention was to watch the ships sail pass and imagine the lives of the people aboard the ships. For instance, was someone drinking a cup of coffee in the cafeteria thinking about their family at home? Was someone out on the deck having a smoke and look at the land as it passed by, wondering about the people who lived there? Was the captain busy at that moment or sitting quietly? I love to do this as it makes me feel connected to fellow human beings and it stills my frantic mind. So, I give the dog his ball to play with and I settle down. I take a deep breath, gaze out to sea, focus on a ship, feel something being dropped into my lap and hear a whinging. What? The dog doesn't like playing with his ball on the pebbles. I stare at him and he whinges at me and then looks mournfully toward the grassy area of the beach. I sigh, get up, take him and his ball to the grassy part and settle back down. I stare out to sea, I watch the ship, I begin to imagine the people, the man drinking his coffee (pfft, pfft, pfft), the guy writing a letter (rip, rip, pfft, pfft), writing a letter (whinge, whinge, pfft pfft), writing a letter (thunk, bang, pfft, pfft, whiiinnngge)...oh for goodness sake! I turn around and there is the dog trying to squeak his ball but the squeak is dead, hence the pfft pfft sounds. He's then ripping up the grass, whining because his ball isn't squeaking, running into boulders and rocks, aaarrgh. I felt like Master Shifu from Kung Fu Panda, you know the scene "inner peace.....inner peace....inner......inner....in.....aargh". I gave up, grabbed the dog and the ball and went home even less peaceful and calm than before we set out, if that were possible. The ship sailed past peacefully and I stropped home stressfully. Peaceful, approachable and calm test - FAIL.
My next failing as trainee minister's wife - language. I try so very hard not to swear in any circumstance. It has been noted in the past that the more stressed I get the more colourful my language so I've really been working on controlling my language. As you may have guessed, I failed and the manner in which I failed is embarrassing. I have a couple of friends who do not swear, at all! I aspire to be like them. No matter what happens, no matter the agony or pain they may be in, how stressed they are, how shocked they are, not one profanity is uttered from their lips. One of them had a horse stand on her, the other was bitten by a lima and karate chopped by a penguin (which broke her hand) yet not one swear word passed their lips. I'm sat around at a friend's house the other day, their cat jumps on me and sticks it's claws straight into my leg. AAAAARRRRGHH! I held the swear word in but apparently it was very evident that it was there on my lips, first letter already being uttered. So, clean language test - FAIL.
Then my most worrying development occurred the other day. I had never seen the comedian Tim Minchin and I was watching one of his stand up shows. In it he began to discuss having a dark humour and how there is a line. I never thought that I had a dark sense of humour (sarcastic yes) and as he began his joke I thought "I won't find this funny at all. This is going to be an hour of my life I won't get back". Worryingly though, I laughed and I discovered that I do actually have a very dark sense of humour. Are minister's wives supposed to have a dark sense of humour? Surely it's supposed to be pure, fluffy, clean cut and gentle laughing?
So to sum it all up, I'm not peaceful or approachable, I have colourful language and a dark sense of humour. Pair this with the dark clothes and big boots. Oh yeah, I'm gonna make a great minister's wife, bwahahahahaha.
Be blessed.
Well the past couple of months have been hectic and a bit stressful. The Raving Rev and I are doing so much travelling and work right now that if we get to see each other for one evening a week, it's cause for celebration. How do we celebrate our time together? As all married couples do, asleep in front of the tv, oh the romance haha. My training to become a minister's wife is not going well and I seem to be failing sob. For instance, minister's wives should be calm, peaceful and approachable. I have not been any of the aforementioned of late and so decided that I should do something about it.
I took the dog and myself down to a quiet cove on a lovely (spring) day last week. My intention was to watch the ships sail pass and imagine the lives of the people aboard the ships. For instance, was someone drinking a cup of coffee in the cafeteria thinking about their family at home? Was someone out on the deck having a smoke and look at the land as it passed by, wondering about the people who lived there? Was the captain busy at that moment or sitting quietly? I love to do this as it makes me feel connected to fellow human beings and it stills my frantic mind. So, I give the dog his ball to play with and I settle down. I take a deep breath, gaze out to sea, focus on a ship, feel something being dropped into my lap and hear a whinging. What? The dog doesn't like playing with his ball on the pebbles. I stare at him and he whinges at me and then looks mournfully toward the grassy area of the beach. I sigh, get up, take him and his ball to the grassy part and settle back down. I stare out to sea, I watch the ship, I begin to imagine the people, the man drinking his coffee (pfft, pfft, pfft), the guy writing a letter (rip, rip, pfft, pfft), writing a letter (whinge, whinge, pfft pfft), writing a letter (thunk, bang, pfft, pfft, whiiinnngge)...oh for goodness sake! I turn around and there is the dog trying to squeak his ball but the squeak is dead, hence the pfft pfft sounds. He's then ripping up the grass, whining because his ball isn't squeaking, running into boulders and rocks, aaarrgh. I felt like Master Shifu from Kung Fu Panda, you know the scene "inner peace.....inner peace....inner......inner....in.....aargh". I gave up, grabbed the dog and the ball and went home even less peaceful and calm than before we set out, if that were possible. The ship sailed past peacefully and I stropped home stressfully. Peaceful, approachable and calm test - FAIL.
My next failing as trainee minister's wife - language. I try so very hard not to swear in any circumstance. It has been noted in the past that the more stressed I get the more colourful my language so I've really been working on controlling my language. As you may have guessed, I failed and the manner in which I failed is embarrassing. I have a couple of friends who do not swear, at all! I aspire to be like them. No matter what happens, no matter the agony or pain they may be in, how stressed they are, how shocked they are, not one profanity is uttered from their lips. One of them had a horse stand on her, the other was bitten by a lima and karate chopped by a penguin (which broke her hand) yet not one swear word passed their lips. I'm sat around at a friend's house the other day, their cat jumps on me and sticks it's claws straight into my leg. AAAAARRRRGHH! I held the swear word in but apparently it was very evident that it was there on my lips, first letter already being uttered. So, clean language test - FAIL.
Then my most worrying development occurred the other day. I had never seen the comedian Tim Minchin and I was watching one of his stand up shows. In it he began to discuss having a dark humour and how there is a line. I never thought that I had a dark sense of humour (sarcastic yes) and as he began his joke I thought "I won't find this funny at all. This is going to be an hour of my life I won't get back". Worryingly though, I laughed and I discovered that I do actually have a very dark sense of humour. Are minister's wives supposed to have a dark sense of humour? Surely it's supposed to be pure, fluffy, clean cut and gentle laughing?
So to sum it all up, I'm not peaceful or approachable, I have colourful language and a dark sense of humour. Pair this with the dark clothes and big boots. Oh yeah, I'm gonna make a great minister's wife, bwahahahahaha.
Be blessed.
Tuesday 5 February 2013
Quick Conversation
Thought that I would share with you conversations that happen within my family.
Raving Rev: "Who's Jethro?"
Me: "The guy with a flute whose surname is Tull".
Raving Rev: "Tut, no, the one in Exodus".
Me: "Don't know".
Mum (shouts to dad): "Who's Jethro?"
Dad: "What?"
Mum: "Who's Jethro?"
Raving Rev: "In Exodus".
Me: "Not Exeter".
Dad: "Yeah".
Raving Rev: "What?"
Dad: "He's a comedian".
There you have it folks, Jethro in Exodus is a comedian (and also makes songs).
This is one of our more intelligible conversations. There is no hope haha.
Be Blessed.
Raving Rev: "Who's Jethro?"
Me: "The guy with a flute whose surname is Tull".
Raving Rev: "Tut, no, the one in Exodus".
Me: "Don't know".
Mum (shouts to dad): "Who's Jethro?"
Dad: "What?"
Mum: "Who's Jethro?"
Raving Rev: "In Exodus".
Me: "Not Exeter".
Dad: "Yeah".
Raving Rev: "What?"
Dad: "He's a comedian".
There you have it folks, Jethro in Exodus is a comedian (and also makes songs).
This is one of our more intelligible conversations. There is no hope haha.
Be Blessed.
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