Weekend Coffee Share: 10 November 2018

If we were having coffee and a chat today, I’d be feeling very much like reminiscing retrospectively over the past, because today my first-born turns 36…

It hardly seems possible that my beautiful little baby boy I can still picture so cleary cradled in my arms is now a grown man with a deep voice who towers over me (but then I suppose all my children have been taller than me since their teens). It never ceases to amaze me that in delivering him safely into the world at 18 after such a horribly long and tedious labour, I also delivered myself unceremoniously into motherhood, a role we keep for life.

That means that right now I’ve been a mother for pretty much two thirds of my lifetime – admittedly not always a particularly good one, but thankfully they all still speak to me so I must have got something right!

As well as my son I also have two daughters, both of whom are mothers themselves now, giving me three grandsons and almost three granddaughters – the newest one is due to be born at the end of this year. The most fascinating thing about daughters is that, as baby girls are born with all the unformed egg cells they will ever need already inside their tiny bodies, the dormant potential eggs that eventually became my potential grandchildren were already inside my daughters at birth, and so were inside me for a time too, like a real life matryoshka doll.

And I was saying to my husband the other day as I looked critically into the mirror – isn’t it strange to see ourselves growing older?

We are in some ways the same as we used to be, but decidely less solid and springy and smooth around the edges, less colourful, less vibrant than we were. Slightly faded and worn and more than a little threadbare, each like a favourite much-loved armchair. I’ve known my husband since 1973, and in my mind’s eye I can still see us as we were then, firm and fresh and full of life, facing forward to our unformed futures. Yet here we are 45 years on, with more life behind us than in front, and inevitably we carry the ravages of the past with us…

By now, of course, my coffee is cold and with all my ramblings I’ve probably not given you a chance to get a word in edgeways, so all I can do is apologise and promise not to do the same next week – if, that is, you choose to come back to visit! 🙂

Weekend Coffee Share: 10 November 2018 


Tongue-Twisters from Childhood

‘Round and round the rugged rocks the ragged rascal ran’

is one of the fun toungue twisters I remember from my childhood, along with

‘She sells sea shells on the sea shore’


‘If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where’s the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?’

But still one of the hardest to get your tongue around was always

‘Red lolly, yellow lorry’

repeated ad nauseam, getting faster and faster until you collapsed in a fit of giggles… 🙂

Stream of Consciousness Saturday: Round

Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Skedaddle

The first thing that came to mind was the animated cartoons of my childhood – in particular the Wacky Races, which I absolutely adored.

I remember the Anthill Mob in their number seven racing car the Bulletproof Bomb – little zoot-suited gangsters with their dark five o’clock shadows. Whenever they needed to skedaddle they would use ‘getaway power’, where their fast-pedalling feet would all appear in unison below the floor of the car to give them a boost.

The Anthill Mob also appeared again much later in the Perils of Penelope Pitstop, where their main aim was apparently to rescue damsel-in-distress Penelope Pitstop from the clutches of resident baddie The Hooded Claw as she yelled ‘hayelp, hayelp’ – and I seem to remember at that point the car was renamed Chuggaboom… 🙂

FOWC: Skedaddle

Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Inertia

I vaguely remember the concept of inertia from physics class in school, a long long time ago – where things that are in a state of motion stay in motion, and things that are at rest stay at rest until a force is applied… something to do with a body’s resistance to change, and friction and transference of energy and momentum. Oh, and I also remember that momentum equals mass times velocity – the heavier the object and the faster it is travelling, the greater the motion it has.

And I remember the fun we had as kids playing with a Newton’s cradle, a rigid frame with five metal balls hanging from it, suspended taut in a row like small swinging pendulums with only a left-to-right or right-to-left motion possible, where letting the first ball swing onto the next with a satisfying click would cause only the last ball to swing out at the opposite end while the three central balls stayed steady. Swinging two balls together would make the corresponding two at the other end of the row swing out with only the central ball staying still, and swinging three would make the central one move back and fore in almost in a state of  perpetual motion.

I say almost because there is always a tiny loss of energy in each transference of energy between the balls (isn’t that where the friction bit comes in?) that eventually causes the movement slowly to reduce and then finally stop. Hmmm… I’ve maybe not remembered any of my physics lessons correctly, but I think I might have to apply some serious force in order to achieve the momentum needed to get myself going again to find mysef a new Newton’s Cradle to play with… 🙂

Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Inertia

Crocodile Dundee and Me

I’m sitting here alone on my sofa on a Sunday evening watching TV, and Crocodile Dundee is on. I remember watching it at the cinema when it first came out way back when, and I just loved it! The humour is great, even if the styles and the themes are more than a little corny and outdated, but yet still it makes me cry. And inevitably it’s making me think about difficult stuff from my past.

It’s also making me think of other old movies I love, and why I still love them so much. Pulp Fiction and True Lies, Working Girl and Mona Lisa Smile. Going back even further, there’s Grease, and Dirty Dancing, and Strictly Ballroom. And never forgetting Saturday Night Fever. They all touched something in me in their own way; a hurt to be salved, a need to be fulfilled, a desire for something more in life.

Perhaps I’m more of a romantic than I think, yearning to be loved and taken care of. And perhaps I’m more of an extrovert in my imaginitive spiritual soul than I am in my fearful introvert heart, dreaming deep down of daring to be brave, be wild, be so much more than I am or ever can be in real life. These movies were my fantasy, my alternative future, my escape from unhappiness.

Thankfully I no longer feel that same agonising need for change, but somehow watching these old movies today still touches that little kernel of magical memories that grew into a precious germ of hope all those years ago, and for that I shall always be eternally grateful… ❤

Arse Before Elbow

I was born a month premature, in early December 1963. My mum went into labour several weeks before I was due, suffering with the exeedingly dangerous extreme high blood pressure of pre-eclampsia.

To add insult to injury, I then presented as a transverse breech, literally trying to enter the world bottom first, and so in the end I was born unceremoniously by emergency Ceasarian Section in the middle of the night. I was immediately whisked off to whatever the 1960s version of the Special Care Baby Unit was called.

I remained in an incubator for however long it took to stabilise me, while mum remained dangerously ill in a different part of the hospital. Not the best bonding experience for either of us. Mum always said she didn’t feel like she’d had a baby – she felt more like she’d had her appendix out.

My dad always joked I tried to come into the world in too much of a hurry, arse before elbow, and have continued through life in the same vein. He’s probably quite right, even now I’m not one for biding my time and doing things in the ‘right’ order… 🙂

Daily Prompt: Premature

Partaking in a Little Nostalgia

My husband and I are spring-cleaning today, and found an old pile of music CDs we’d long forgotten about. So we decided to partake in a little nostalgic listening as we work – a 3CD compilation titled ‘School Reunion – the 80s’ is our current choice, and it’s just absolutely perfect to spring-clean to! A total of 60 banging tracks from a decade during which I listened to a lot of music, and I’m finding I can still sing along to most of it 🙂

Daily Prompt: Partake