Parting is such sorrow, even though I always knew it would happen. I knew this day would come - and in all honesty the date has been known to me since the day we met. Truth be told I didn't want us to part, but you are being taken away from me. I admit that you're being replaced with something younger...but you must understand that the appeal of youthfulness never fades. Through good times and bad, I know you've always been there for me, and I know we've had our ups and downs, but you've never deserted me. Although I can't say you've always been a reliable friend.
However onwards and upwards.
So goodbye to my Nokia phone, your contract came to an end, so you're replaced with another so complicated that it'll take me a year at least to work out how to call my friends. And goodriddance to Vodafone and hello to T-Mobile - I like your adverts, so I hope the service is as good.
And goodbye to fat plutocrat autobahn express BMW. A lovely, speedy beast which has taken us on many wonderful adventures. Auntie Gwen thought it was far too flash...but actually in this neck of the woods, a poor man's car. So now replaced with sometthing, erm different. erm.
Thursday, 25 June 2009
Wednesday, 24 June 2009
Firstly, I'm sorry
To all and everyone who is till waiting for a Christmas card from the Nota Bene household. You may have given up on it by now, and you may have struck us off your Chrsitams card list for next year; please don't - we don't get that many in the first place, so even one fewer is a hardship for us. We are having to clear out the car...and it is truly remarkable what you can find in the mobile filing cabinet after four years. And I'm afraid to say that we have discovered all our 2008 Christmas cards, signed sealed and stamped. But not posted. At this stage I will point out that they were on the boy's side of the car, and I distinctly remember giving him clear instructions to post them. So it's all his fault. But as a minor, I think you'd be wrong to hold it against him. That is my job.
And so, in the interests of the environment and the economy, we will be using the cards for this Christmas. So expect your card early....and if you're worried you're not on our list, simply send us your address and we'll sign, seal and stamp the card for you. I'm not guaranteeing though whether late entries will get their card this year, next year or even the year afterwards.
And so, in the interests of the environment and the economy, we will be using the cards for this Christmas. So expect your card early....and if you're worried you're not on our list, simply send us your address and we'll sign, seal and stamp the card for you. I'm not guaranteeing though whether late entries will get their card this year, next year or even the year afterwards.
Sunday, 21 June 2009
Men are from Mars
I'm very delighted indeed to report that after weeks of dropping subtle hints, I was rewarded with two poached eggs on toast and a cup of tea in bed this morning. Pretty cool eh? Admittedly half past seven was a little early, but the boy was determined to make sure that he had it all sorted before I woke up. Ten out of ten.
On a different note, I learnt a long time ago not to argue with a woman. Well women in general actually. They come at things from such a different perspective that even if by all the rules of nature I'm right, I'm wrong. What I hadn't realised is that if men are from Mars and women from Venus, well boys are from a different universe altogether.
Like all responsible parents (there's at least three of us in the country, we have a rule that if the boy goes out he needs to tell me where he's going and when he'll be back. After many hours of lecturing on the subject he's got it. So time for a cheer. Sometimes though for a variety of reasons the rule gets bent either by the boy or me. When that happens, I send a text asking when he'll be returning. Sometimes this works, sometimes I get the panicky text back to say he's on his way home. If I've explained it once I've explained it a hundred times, I'm just asking for a time of arrival, I'm not making a demand for return. And so it was today...he'd been invited for a lunch time party with the parents of his girlfriend. No time of return had been determined, so as I was getting hungry by 8ish, I texted wanting to know if he'd be back for supper. Twenty minutes later a taxi had been ordered by the hosts and the boy rematerialised. Grrrrrrr. I didn't want to curtail his social life. Grrrrr. Grrrrr. I'm sure I've explained it in words of one syllable, but perhaps I should try using a language he can understand. I'll try texting.
On a different note, I learnt a long time ago not to argue with a woman. Well women in general actually. They come at things from such a different perspective that even if by all the rules of nature I'm right, I'm wrong. What I hadn't realised is that if men are from Mars and women from Venus, well boys are from a different universe altogether.
Like all responsible parents (there's at least three of us in the country, we have a rule that if the boy goes out he needs to tell me where he's going and when he'll be back. After many hours of lecturing on the subject he's got it. So time for a cheer. Sometimes though for a variety of reasons the rule gets bent either by the boy or me. When that happens, I send a text asking when he'll be returning. Sometimes this works, sometimes I get the panicky text back to say he's on his way home. If I've explained it once I've explained it a hundred times, I'm just asking for a time of arrival, I'm not making a demand for return. And so it was today...he'd been invited for a lunch time party with the parents of his girlfriend. No time of return had been determined, so as I was getting hungry by 8ish, I texted wanting to know if he'd be back for supper. Twenty minutes later a taxi had been ordered by the hosts and the boy rematerialised. Grrrrrrr. I didn't want to curtail his social life. Grrrrr. Grrrrr. I'm sure I've explained it in words of one syllable, but perhaps I should try using a language he can understand. I'll try texting.
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