Tag Archives: family

Making puttanesca sauce

Posted on by
Reply

“OK LB. I’m going to make some puttanesca sauce. You like that, don’t you? Very posh n’ Nigella.”
“Who looks after buses Mum?”
“Mechanics?”
“Mechanics Mum?”
“Yes..”
“And London buses Mum?”
“Yep, mechanics look after London buses.”
“Why Mum?”
“Because they have to stay roadworthy. Keep the passengers safe.”
“Yes Mum.”
“Now I need to find some olives…”
“Who looks after lorries Mum?”
“Mechanics.”
“Mechanics Mum?”
“Yes…”
“Mum? Who looks after coaches Mum?”
“Mechanics… Crap the olives have gone mouldy…”
“Mum?”
“YES?”
“Who looks after settattas Mum?”
“Settattas?”
“Settattas Mum. Who looks after settattas?”
“I can’t understand you LB. Say it clearly.”
“SET. TAT. TAS.”
“I don’t understand. Say it clearly. Mouldy.bloody.olives.”
“SETTICTANKS MUM.”
“Septic tanks???”
“Yes Mum. Who looks after settictanks?”
“Mechanics.”
“Mum?”
“Yes LB?”
“I wish I was a Londoner Mum.”

The why? question

Posted on by
1

LB has become adept at answering most questions “Yes“, “No“, “Don’t know” or “All of them” in typical teenager fashion. We’ve been pushing him on this recently (not least because it’s pretty boring).

This morning (as with so, so many mornings);

“Mum? I love lorries Mum.”
“I know.”
“Mum? I love lorries Mum…”

Usually at this point I say “I know LB. Do you know how I know?”
And he answers “Because I’ve told you 25,000 times, Mum.”

This morning I mixed it up a bit;

“Mum? I love lorries Mum.”
“I know.”
“Mum? I love lorries Mum…”
“Why do you love them?”
“Dunno Mum.”
“No, think of why you love them.”
“Dunno Mum.”
“C’mon LB. Try to explain to me why you love lorries.”
“Because. Because…… Because of me, Mum.”

Love him.

World of Adventure

Posted on by
2

Yesterday we had a day out at Chessington. We’ve had mixed experiences of days out at various places in the past, so the bar is set fairly low. Chessington scored high early on, for us, yesterday with their sensible arrangements for families with disabled children.

Once you’ve provided paper proof that your child is disabled (yes really) alongside the child, you get given a card which allows you to go to the exit of each ride. A staff member lets you straight on the ride after writing down what time you can next use the card for a big ride (adding the equivalent of the queue time you’ve jumped).

This works well as you don’t have to walk past the glares and stares of the main queue, who have you pegged as liggers as your child “don’t look disabled”, and the time delay between being able to access big rides is fair enough. A good example of reasonable adjustment really, removing the difficult bit (queuing) for dudes like LB.

We started with the Rattlesnake. My first ever roller coaster. Tom and Rich in front, waving their arms in the air. Me and LB behind. I kept my eyes scrunched shut, gripping the handlebars and quietly whimpering.  LB sat quiet, composed and distant, seemingly oblivious to height, speed, excitement or terror.

“Fuck that,” he said to himself when we got off 90 seconds later.

Breakfast in London

Posted on by
Reply

“Hey, boys, what’s it like having a room to yourselves?”
“Tom’s soooooo irritating…”
“No I’m not!”
“You are. You talk through everything you’re doing. As you do it! You even woke me up this morning to tell me you were going to the toilet.”
“That’s cos I didn’t want you to wake up and find me gone. You might have thought I’d been attacked or something.”
“Attacked? By what?”
“A rabid bear.”

Jelly bean tears

Posted on by
Reply

Overheard, from the front room:

“Can you get our sweet day sweets when you go out Dad?”
“No. You had them yesterday.”
“No we didn’t! We didn’t get any in the end!”
“Oh.”
“And we haven’t had them for weeks.”
“Tom, we’re like getting a bit old for “sweet day sweets” bro…”
“I’m THIRTEEN!”
“Well it ain’t “sweet day” now.”
“You’re 19 and saying we’re too old for sweets when you had them till you were at least 16???”
“Yeah. Well, come on, you did get a lot of added benefits being the youngest…”
“Yeah, like playing ’15’ games when you’re only THIRTEEN..”
“Yeah! And the rest!”
“WHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA…”
“Er, what you doing Tom?”
“I need some tears.”
“Eh, what?”
“WHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA… I need to test my tears.”
“What?”
“I need to test my tears for sweet stuff. Kids’ tears should taste like jelly beans. And sweet stuff.”
“Eh?”
“Not vegetables.”

Hilarious.

But I’m right back with Willy Wonka… singing Pure Imagination.

Unashamedly.

 

Mind your language

Posted on by
Reply

Tom was teaching Will some Spanish this morning. He’s off to Valencia on Wednesday to stay with his girlfriend’s family.

“Pretty impressive Spanish Tom. Where’d you learn that?”
“Er, Spanish lessons.”
“Spanish lessons? What in school?”
“Er, yeah. I’m doing Spanish GCSE in Year 10…”
“Ah cool. Do you speak any other languages LB?”
“Yes.”
“What ones?”
“Irish.”
“Wow! Say something in Irish.”
“Top of the morning to you.”

My diary (2); Christmas Day

Posted on by
1

Browsed a bit more of my diary this afternoon. I was waiting to upload some photos and it sort of called to me from its recent position under my computer screen. Next to the packet of Rajah Extra Hot Chilli Powder and the spotty sock.

The page fell open at ‘Christmas Day’. Wow. Now this should be a cracking entry. We always had a great Christmas Day as kids. All that excitement, atmosphere, lovely food and fun. Always fun times.

The verbatim entry;

Christmas Day

Up at 6.30. Opened stocking – Yorkie, tic tacs, book, paper clip, piggy bank, make up, biro, rubber, Abbey National notebook.

Went downstairs. Cup of tea. Unwrapped pressies – cardi, Parker pen and biro, Barry Manilow* LP, Ludlum book, Neil Diamond single, record cleaner, Bogeyman book, Pooh calendar.

Brekky. Got dressed. Listened to Barry Manilow LP. Read book. Had orange drink then Florida Orange. Listened to Beach Boys, Paul Simon, The Police. Tracey worked.

Christmas dinner. Afterwards watched TOTP with No.1s. Bit of George and Mildred, Putting on the Ritz (Fred Astaire), James Bond (Man with the Golden Gun). Went upstairs to my room. Downstairs. Watched Airport 75 -terrible. Bed.

Eh? Where is everyone? Where’s the excitement? The drama? The interaction? The fun?

Why did I keep a daily record of my life based on stuff, the TV I watched and daily activities like waking up and going to bed?

Mind boggling and hilariously, weirdly, odd.

*I ain’t gonna apologise for Bazza. I loved him then and I still do. Mr Ultimate Cheese with the mysterious background. I do wonder about the Abbey National notebook and Neil Diamond single though. 

The adult social worker

Posted on by
1

“LB, your new social worker’s coming to visit me today. Then she’s coming to meet you at school.”
“She’s already been Mum.”
“Eh? Wha?”
“She’s already been Mum.”
“Oh. What did you talk about?”
“Being sociable Mum.”
“Oh. Ok. Can you remember her name?”
“Anita Mum.”
“Ah, that’s your current social worker. You are going to meet your adult social worker today.”
“Adult Mum?”
“Yes, the one who will be your social worker when you’re an adult.”
“She’s already been Mum.”
“No, that was Anita. You’ll meet the new one today.”
“I don’t want to meet the social worker Mum. I don’t even know her. She’s probably racist Mum. And… And.. she’s on placement Mum. She’s not coming to school.”
“Don’t be silly LB. You’ve got to meet her today. She’s your new social worker.”
“The law’s the law Mum. She’s not coming back to school.”

Slavery

Posted on by
1

“I AM NOT DOING THE DISHWASHER AGAIN. EVER. EVER! IT’S A CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY..AND.. AND IT MAKES BOSSY KIDS’ LIVES MISERY..”
“Eh, what’s that LB?”
“Nothing Mum.”
“What are you shouting about?”
“Nothing Mum.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing.”
“Mum?”
“Yes?”
“Mum, what’s slavery Mum?”
“Where people are held against their will and forced to work for the people who hold them.”
“Is slavery a criminal offence Mum?”
“Yes. Why?”
“No reason Mum.”