Lloyds TSB Weather Competition
So it’s been a pretty mixed summer. We had plenty of sunshine early on (in fact, nearly melting in my conservatory/oven became such a regular feature that I abandoned it for good for a while), but lately it’s been rainy and a bit miserable. Typical British weather.
Still, I managed to take this snap of #1 bowling at a cricket match (note his Grandad, my Disreputable Dad, complete with ancient baggy shorts, taking his umpire role very seriously). This was the annual parents vs kids end of season cricket match. Myself and Madame Turtle, my impossibly glamorous niece, were the scorers. Needless to say between chatting and comparing manicures, we probably missed a few balls. The sun did come out, but later the clouds rolled over and hid it away. Still, it didn’t spoil the fun, as you can tell.
I’ve decided to enter it in the Lloyds TSB British weather photographer of the year competition. I doubt it has a chance (although please do vote for me!), but I reckon boiling grey clouds above a beautiful green cricket pitch is probably about as English as it gets, don’t you?
You can vote for me (and enter your own shots) here:
http://www.lloydstsbweathercompetition.co.uk
About the competition:
The competition runs from 13th April to 20th September 2010. 12 finalists will be chosen in November. You can enter as many photographs as you wish, although they must be taken in the United Kingdom and you must be a UK resident aged 18 or over. There’s also a £100 weekly prize for the photograph with the most ‘favourite’ votes. The 12 finalists will have their photographs displayed at a public exhibition for a week and the overall winner wins £10,000! What have you got to lose?
The Friday video: The Death Wish Child at the skatepark
De Brevren made this video together. #2 did the skating and the editing (with help from his big bro), #1 did the filming and because he’s The Mad Professor, somehow knows tricks to get over the YouTube audio copyright restrictions too (shhh). I might be biased but I think it’s quite good. Although mothers of small boys everywhere will be buttock clenchingly aware that the child is moments away from several broken bones. The song is Witchcraft by Pendulum.
Review: ‘Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief’
My kids were both huge fans of the Percy Jackson books. My oldest, the Mad Professor in particular had read, nay devoured, and loved all the books, and was adamant he wouldn’t like the film, so when we got the review copy I didn’t hold out much hope.
But do you know what? It was fabulous.
There aren’t many PG films these days packed with such adventure and excitement – there were enough scary bits to have us all hiding behind our cushions, and enough thrills and spills to keep even our resident cynic entertained (unsurpisingly, it’s from the same director as Harry Potter & The Philosopher’s Stone). Add in a cracking cross-country road trip, the odd sword fight, a trip to the underworld and some jaw-dropping special effects and you’ll see why we were so impressed.
Percy Jackson (Logan Lehrman) is a cool enough teenager to impress even my jaded teens, and his funky protector: half goat, half human Grover (played by the fabulous Brandon T Jackson) had us laughing out loud. Bring in a love interest in the form of Annabeth, daughter of Athena and kick-ass swordswoman to boot (Alexandra Daddario), and you’ve got enough to keep most kids interested. Oh and there’s Sean Bean for us big girls too!
Other highlights include a chilling performance by Uma Thurman as Medusa, and Steve Coogan as a fantastically evil Hades.
We loved it, giving it an all-round English Towers thumbs up and a pretty darned impressive 8/10.
Percy Jackson & The Lightening Thief is out today on Blu-ray and DVD.
‘No naughty words on mugs – promise?’ A trip to Emma Bridgewater
So the Tuesday of half term saw us take a rather wonderful trip. Now the Brethren are 12 and 15 it’s getting more and more unusual that everyone wants to go out together. A shopping trip mostly ends up with one ‘ohhhh okay then’ and one ‘nope, I’m playing Xbox, seeya later’, so to take a trip ‘en famille’ was rather a pleasant change.
We were whooshed to Stoke on Trent in less than an hour from Milton Keynes on the rather swish Virgin ‘leany train’ (yes, I’m sure it has a proper name too), and met up with fellow bloggers Jen, Rachael and Josie, plus Dan and Kate from Kitchen Critic.
During the journey, we established ground rules for the trip. These included:
- No smutty jokes – there will be small children present
- No wrestling amongst the crockery
- No naughty words on mugs. Yes, a drawing of a willy is considered naughty.
Here’s our fabulous day in pictures:
I am pleased to report that not only did we have a lovely family day out, but there was no smut, no wrestling, and I think no willies, but when our mugs arrived from Emma Bridgewater I’ll have to check.
If you’re ever in Stoke I’d thoroughly recommend a free factory tour (book in advance!) and a trip to the Potteries Museum where you’ll find a fascinating retrospective of Emma Bridgewater products stretching back the full 25 years (on now until 26th September, entry is free).
And now the thank yous:
Thanks to the lovely Jamie, and all the staff at Emma Bridgewater for a fabulous day out (sorry about all the sniggering – it’s Josie’s fault). Thanks to the lovely Eb for organising the day, lovely chats and listening to me panicking about train times.
And finally, special thanks to the Death Wish Child and his new camera for all the wonderful pictures (I rent him out y’know…weddings, christenings…).
The Gallery: Motherhood
They’re messy. And often smelly. They’re noisy, they argue, they snigger, they stay up too late, have last minute shouty homework panics, fill the house with mates and when they’re hungry my kitchen looks like it’s been attacked by a plague of locusts..
But that day? That day they danced down the aisle because that’s what they thought would make the day really perfect.
They even wore suits. Okay, so they insisted on red Converse to complete the outfit, but suits all the same.
They welcomed our friends and family, chatted and laughed, decorated cars, held the ring, sang hymns, didn’t giggle, shook hands, directed traffic. They behaved like proper gentlemen…
Look at my lovely boys.
God, I am proud.
This post is an entry for Tara Cain’s Gallery: Week 15.
Paintballing: full body armour and 100mph missiles
So Thursday, then, dawned bright and gorgeous. Perfect weather for cramming yourself into full body armour, a helmet and goggles, and firing small missiles at your fellow man.
No, I’m not going mad. It was The Brethren’s paintballing party (yes, yes, several months after their actual birthdays but then I never pretended to be organised).
Here’s a little précis of my highlights:
- #1 stomping back to the safe zone with a totally orange visor having been hit smack in the face with a paintball (head shots don’t count, but you have to leave the game if you can’t see – taking your goggles off mid-games is illegal – paintballs can travel at speeds of 100mph).
- #2 struggling into body armour about five times too big for him, insisting hotly that it was fine before finally being persuaded to go and get the right size.
- The manager offering to lend me a hi-viz so I could go and take some photos of the action ‘although I can’t guarantee you won’t get shot’. Er, no thanks.
- The full body armour photos afterwards.
- The fact that #1′s mate grabbed a smoke grenade and hurled it back (a long career in the forces awaits this fella)
- Comparing bruises between rounds (they might be gelatine skinned but they still bloody hurt if they miss the body armour).
Special thanks to Olly and Sarah at International Paintball Group (ipg.uk.net) and the fantastic staff at Delta Force, Hemel Hempstead for making our day so enjoyable.
Innocent fridge magnets
Firstly, I’d like to say thank you to Innocent Drinks, who sent me a lovely strawberry plant and a set of their new fridge magnets to say sorry that I couldn’t come to their recent open house at Fruit Towers.
Secondly, I’d like to point out that my oldest child is taking full advantage of the magnets. How educational!
Fercucking hell!
I love the NHS. Yup, really. You won’t hear a bad word said about it in our house. After four years in Ireland spent wondering whether each ailment was worth the fifty quid to see the doctor, I am ridiculously grateful. Add that to several mad dashes to A&E at £100 a pop and you can imagine I’m a big fan.
Not only that, but the kids had a recent eye test (you guess it, on the NHS), and we discovered that not only did #1 need new glasses, but #2 needs them now for reading and close-up work. He was not impressed.
He was more impressed, however, when it turned out that he could have funky Quiksilver ones (to go with his recent purchase of skinny Quiksilver jeans from T K Maxx, and enormous DC skate trainers that, combined, make him look oddly like Mickey Mouse’s slimmer brother).
I also had to have a new pair. I’d had my old ones since 1994, it turned out, so it was probably time. Later,#2 was on the phone to his Dad:
#2: I’ve got this new pair of glasses – I’ve got to wear them for reading and stuff – they’re wicked! They’ve got Quiksilver on the side! And #1 got some new ones too – his are Red or Dead.
Hubby: And what about Mummy, what are hers like?
#2: They’re okay. They’re kinda brown and they say ‘fercuck’ on the side.
Repeat 100 times: ‘I must not think for myself’
I’m angry. I’m just so bloody angry. Let me explain:
Recently, #1, The Mad Professor, came home with a face like thunder. He’d been given a detention, he said. Now, firstly, this is unheard of. As far as I remember he’s never been in trouble at school. He’s an achiever, more motivated in his schoolwork that I or his father ever were. He has endless potential. And I’m not just saying that as his very proud mother. Since moving back to England he’s had to contend with learning a whole new system, moving from Irish Junior Certificate to English GCSEs. He’s had tons of coursework to catch up on, and he’s never once moaned or complained, he’s just cracked on. The teachers have been brilliant, helping him after school and during lunchtime to work on the stuff he’s missed. He’s often to be found reading text books late into the night, if I don’t stop him.
So, as you can imagine, the detention was a shock.
Apparently, although the school didn’t bother to inform us, there was some kind of school maths challenge, where schools across the country enter their best pupils. All good, you’d think. But when do the geniuses schedule this inter-school p*ssing contest?
During the school day.
Worse than that, it was across two of #1′s GCSE lessons, in particular a French lesson where he was working on a very hard piece of coursework, which had, incidentally kept us up rather late the night before.
So I’m proud to say, my teenager made a choice. He chose his coursework. He duly attended his lessons, told his teacher what he’d decided, and worked hard. He then attended this next lesson as nomal. He was then confronted by a maths teacher asking why he didn’t attend the maths challenge. He explained that he was worried about his coursework and had decided to attend his normal lessons. He also told said teacher that he’d informed his GCSE lesson teachers of his decision. He was then given a detention and told that the school ‘cannot condone children making their own decisions’.
WTF?
So the school would rather they were allowed to ‘pimp out’ my clever child in a maths competition, rather than let him get on with his work? What’s wrong with common sense? By all means allow children to enter competitions, I’m all for it, but schedule them at the end of the school day, or send a letter home informing parents and allowing them to decide, with their kids, whether they want to attend. Furthermore, I wonder if there’s some kind of ‘league table’ or ‘winners board’ in all this that’s motivating them?
I was furious. What’s more, a quite civilised email conversation about it with his maths teacher where I explained our position was ended abruptly, and next thing we knew, we received a letter from the head insisting the #1 do the detention to ‘draw a line under the matter’.
Well, we chatted to #1 about it, and assured him that we would support him 100% whichever way he wanted to go. At the end of this, it was decided that for the sake of his classwork (and for the sake of the 4 or 5 of his compadrés that also decided not to do the challenge and had already accepted the detention), he would attend, and get it over and done with.
And does it end there? Sadly not.
At the end of the detention, the Head of Maths decided that she’d take the boys to one side and spend ten minutes having a high pitched rant at them. One particular peach was a jibe about: ’how much trouble you’ve caused the school’ (what? YOU caused the trouble with your crap timetabling) and, more seriously was the threat: ‘if you want to take maths at A level, you’d better stay on the right side of me’.
Er, pardon? Now I’m sorry, but by the time a pupil is nearly 15 shouldn’t he be treated more like an adult, and in return be expected to act like one? I appreciate if children ‘bunk off’ left, right and centre, or misbehave, they deserve punishment, but present a child with an impossible situation and then punish him for choosing his GCSEs? And worse, shout in his face, insinuating, whilst screeching at him in a hormonal manner, that you could make or break his school career? I never, ever shout in my child’s face. And I certainly don’t expect his teachers to either.
What is it with schools? Why take a perfectly good student and pursue a matter so far and so aggressively that you risk alienating him, turning him against the school, and almost encouraging him to rebel?
This, believe me, is not the end.
* * * * * * * U P D A T E * * * * * * *
And it wasn’t the end. After firing off a ‘Mrs Angry’ email to the head, I got a call this morning from #1′s maths teacher (also Ms Hormonal’s line manager), apologising for her actions, and assuring me that she will be told in no uncertain terms that she was out of order for both her manner and her words. I was told that it will be dealt with by him and the head, but if I wish to take it further I need to put a formal complaint in writing. He said that he had to take some of the blame also, for the fiasco. Now what?
Healthy baked chicken burgers with help from the glamorous Turtle
So during half term, my adorable twin niece and nephew, Miss Turtle and Mr Jackson came to stay with my two chisellers. We decided to have a blow-out junk food and video night and Turtle agreed to be my glamorous assistant, tearing herself away from her mobile phone and nail file (how the girl doesn’t have stumps for fingers the amount of filing she does, I’ll never know) for just long enough to knock up some yummy chicken burgers.
These burgers are a bit of a fave in our house. Not only are they really cheap, they’re very healthy too and there are endless variations. You can make little dinner party ones to serve with a nice Thai dipping sauce, you can make them into little meatballs and serve with a tomato sauce, or you can vary the flavours, say, with coriander or chilli…
Anyhoo, onto the main event. Firstly, you’ll need:
Breadcrumbs (I whizz 2 slices in the blender of doom)
1 onion, or a couple of spring onions
1 egg
500g minced chicken or turkey
Seasoning
Firstly, then, your glamorous assistant needs to bung a couple of slices of slightly stale bread into the food processor (actually we’re using the blender – not that blender – because I broke my lovely braun Braun MR400 Plus Multiquick Handblender 300w
Next up, warn the aforementioned glamorous assistant about the perils of mixing fingers and blenders (she’s worn hers down enough as it is), then bung in the onion/spring onion and the egg. If you’re using anything else, like chilli or coriander, chuck it in now. Of course, if you don’t have an onion-phobic child and therefore don’t need to resort to this kind of stealth cookery, you could just chop them finely. Whizz until you get a strangely satisfying frothy green liquid and silently pray to the cocktail god that your next mojito won’t taste of spring onion:
Next, and this is the good bit, bung the green goo into the breadcrumbs and add the chicken mince. Season generously with salt and pepper, then roll up the sleeves of your glamorous assistant and set her to work squelching up the mixture (with clean hands and beautifully manicured nails) into an even paste:
When the mix is nicely combined, form it into about 6 patties, or smaller little cakes, or balls or whatever (and yes, they do have a slightly green tinge, but don’t let that put you off):
Put them on a non-stick tray (important that) and bake at 180 degrees/gas 4 for about 20 mins. The smaller ones will take less time, but make sure you check to see that they’re thoroughly cooked in the middle.
Now just assemble your burger. We used fresh crusty rolls and garnished our burgers with crunchy lettuce, grated cheese and a little spicy tomato salsa, but feel free to experiment.
Finally, we got out every single fattening thing we could find, including ice cream, whipped cream and a variety of chocolatey stuff, and set about having an ice-cream sundae competition (#1′s is the one that’s just a sundae dish full of chocolate):
And the winner is? Yup, you guessed it:
