Scoubidou’s

Who said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

Well I don’t know who it was but they’re wrong. This grandma is living proof. I am now the proud owner of a helicopter, no, I haven’t taken flying lessons I’ve been constructing one… don’t believe me huh… well take a look…




I also made a fish, don’t ask…


a Necklace & bracelet,


a Spider ugh!!,


an a couple of key rings, which I can't show you 'cause my mate nicked them.

Yep, crazy I know, but these Scoubidou’s (the latest craze to hit the UK) are a parents dream and I’m very happy to accommodate them ‘cause they have kept two of my granddaughters amused all weekend…no mean feat I can tell you.

Who would have thought a local craze from small town in France (yup, I did a search an that’s where Scoubidou’s originally came from) would have ended up being my saviour. Mind you I’m not as green as I cabbage looking (apologies to cabbages everywhere) see, I remember them from the first time round in the 80’s when my daughter was mad about them.

Now my daughter first put them on her site Absolute Nails as a way for her customers to keep their kids amused making fun jewellery while they got on with the serious business of doing their nails. Then my granddaughter told her they were the best thing since sliced bread & begged for her own.

Well one thing led to another & suddenly she had a best seller on her hand. So,my granddaughters came round on Friday to show me how clever they were with this exciting new toy & I knocked their socks off with my expertise. As a result, the little darlings were spellbound with awe at their enormously talented grandma… So… I’m devious… so what…I need an edge to keep up nowadays.

Anyway, here’s a couple of tips if you’re thinking of getting them. Make sure you get the genuine Scoubidou cord, not those fashion laces/strings thingies. Because they’re a lot thinner & a bit jellified, which means they stretch & sometimes break if you pull them too hard.

I know there’re a lot of sites out there selling them but, Absolute Nails is the only one I can recommend as selling the genuine article. It’s a very good site & fast delivery. She also has them on her Absolute Nails Shop at Ebay. Blatent advertizing or wot? I know... I know... But you don't have to buy them & she is my daughter ;-)

Oh & one last thing there’s even a secrete language for the bracelets, here's a few to be going on with, I'll put a bigger list on my site when I get time.

Bracelet Secrete Language

Color	Meaning
Red	Best friend
Blue	I'm sorry
Yellow	Lets be friends
Green	Lets make up
White	Friends forever
Black	Lets hang out
Orange	Groovy Gal
Pink	Babe
Purple	Fab friends

There are worse things than a bad hair day!

So there I was…
9am…
Hang on a minute - don’t you have to put it together for me?
Oh! Just deliver… Okay! Now what…?
Read the book, yeah there’s always a book on ‘how to’ isn’t there?
WOW! A fitted kitchen has fewer bits than this. Maybe I should get rid of the packaging first.
No! Wait! What if something‘s missing? I might have to pack it all up again.
Good thinking… put the packing in the spare room just in case.

12 noon…
Ah ha, this looks like the manual, now we are getting somewhere.
Well! I would never have guessed that bit goes there in a million years.
Still that’s science for you, always thinking up new ways to confuse you.
And why do they insist on calling all the bits male and female couplings?
Anyone would think I’ve bought a sex toy.
Why can’t they just say, the bit with the prongs goes into the bit with the holes?
Then we’d all know what they’re talking about.
Bet a man wrote this.

3pm… Well it looks ok, no mysterious pieces left over, so it must work.
Mind you, the only bit I recognise is the plug.
Now according to the manual it will be as clear as a bell when I plug it in, so here goes.
Houston we have lift-off.
No we don’t.
Oh God, I’ve killed it and I’ve not even tried it out yet.
Don’t panic, slow down, and think about it.
Right!
Yes!

Ok, ‘Techno law’ everything that uses electricity always has a little light somewhere when you plug in.
Why?
To show it’s working of course.
Ok! No light, it’s broken.
Time to consult the ‘powers that be’.
Now if I can just find the number for customer… Bingo!
Believe me they’ll get a piece of my mind; if, I ever get through to a real person that is.
Yes I know all your operators are busy, you stupid voice, you’ve been telling me that for the last 35 minutes.

4pm…
Oh helloooo, Jason, (hooray a human at last).
Yes, I’ll tell you how you can help (if you let me get a word in, God how I hate smug know-alls)
It’s faulty…
Of course, I’ve plugged it in; nothing happened…
Model number, err… where will I find that…?
Ok, I see.
Right it’s Model 79634…
Yes that’s right, the man in the shop said it was…
Bang up to date…
So simple a child could operate it…
Pardon… 57, not that it’s any of your business…
Now listen mate, I know I won’t see 25 again and I didn’t grow up with this stuff, but it doesn’t mean I’m stupid and can’t grasp simple instructions.
I maybe a bit over the hill, but I’m not ready for the knackers yard just yet.
What!
For your information, not being able to program the darn video does not mean I can’t get to grips with this hunk of mettle…
What!
Right… Ok…
Apology accepted.

Now, can we get on…?
Yes, I have connected all the bits correctly; rest assured I am fully capable of reading an instruction manual.
Extraordinary as it may sound, they had these places called schools when I was a child that taught reading & writing…
Jason!
Oh, don’t be such a baby…
It was a joke…
Can’t you take a joke?
Ok, it’s a deal.
If you stop crying, I’ll stop being sarcastic.

What’s next then?
No, no light.
Did I what…?
No of course, I didn’t push any buttons I’m not thick.
Oh...!
Now you’re joking right… please tell me you’re joking?
There is absolutely no need to sound so smug Jason.
Where will I find it then?
Just a minute…
Ah! There it is…
No wait!
There are four of them, which one…
Oh yes, it would be wouldn’t it…
The one with ‘on’ written above it.
Ok, ok you can stop laughing now Jason, nobody’s perfect are they.

A crazy frog

I think I'm going to have to start a campaign. See,I like watching TV & I'm sick of some adverts. Not all of them, only the bad ones. I mean some are quite nice with catchy tunes or useful info, but the rest of them drive me up the wall.

It's got so I turn the sound off or change channels just to get away from the one I really hate. Do they realize I do that? Surely it's defeating the object isn't it? I suppose there are some out there who sit through them but, I've a sneaky suspicion they are brain dead. So, the advertisers aren't getting their monies worth are they?

And another thing, who thinks up the rubbish ones? Half of them have no relationship to what the product is. I'll give you an example. Oh and you have to bear in mind these are UK TV adverts 'cause that's where I live.

There was a famous one a few years back, it was a spoof on ice skaters Torval & Deans' interpretation of Ravel's Bolero.

This is what the viewing public saw. The couple in the advert rolled back the living room carpet and began the ice dance sliding across the floor. Now, you'd think from that description it was an advert for floor polish or flooring of some sort wouldn't you? Wrong! It was absolutely nothing to do with polish or floors.

All creator of bad adverts should be tied to a chair, sat in a room and made to listen to their creation for 24 hour non stop. I bet they'd get their act together or find another more suitable profession.

The one that's top of my hit list at the moment is a crazy frog and the jingle is driving me nuts. If I could just get my hand round the throat of its creator... Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

I've even been known to go and do the washing up on a bad day. Now that's not normal is it? I mean, who wants to do the washing up?

ICANITIS

It gets us all eventually

FRIDAY
Wonderful… it’s come at last--the ability to do—well, nothing. Oh, the freedom from all that daily grind. No more commuting to the office, rush hour traffic, or lunch time skirmishes in Sainsburys. I can do all the things I’ve ever wanted to do, but never had the time. I can go out on Sunday night knowing I don’t have to get up early Monday morning. I can cruise the department stores and browse the book shops forever without the need to get back and do something. I’ve got—Icanitis--what bliss.

SATURDAY
Still can’t believe I’m free. I revel in the fact that I don’t have to wash and iron over the weekend. The housework can wait; I’ve got all the time in the world. I can have a relaxing breakfast and read the papers from cover to cover, fantastic. Now, what shall I do next? I know! I’ll read for a while, I’ve been meaning to get to Alice Walker’s latest for ages.

One Week Later…
My God! is that the time? Must get a move on…finish the books later--have to--have to what?

Have to nothing, stupid, you have Icanitis, remember?

So, I forgot for a minute--so what--I’m new at this game. Help, am I really talking to myself? Oh well, I suppose it’s all part of this Icanitis business. What's next? Oh yes, make a list of all the things I've ever wanted to do but never had the time.

Ok… that sounds good… let’s do it.

Wait! Have to go shopping first for pen and paper. I wonder why I always have to buy something, to do something.

SUNDAY
This is the life. I’ve died and gone to heaven. I’ll have a slap up breakfast at the local cafe, overlooking the wonderful green rolling hills and valleys of the Chilterns. Then I can potter round the antique fairs dotted around the villages.

‘old up! Waxing a bit lyrical, aren’t you? Yeah, well what do you expect? I’ve never had nothing do before.

MONDAY
Now where was I? Ah yes…the list. Hmm, now… where did I put that note pad and pen? Right, item one. I could try art, there are a lot of fabulous views around here so… So what? Go and paint them.

Well, I’ll need a few things first, won’t I? Brushes, paint, one of those things to prop the canvas on. Ok, I get the picture, sounds like another shopping trip.

On the other hand I could learn to swim! You can’t breathe when you’re in water!

Keep fit? You can’t breathe and jump.

What about learning another language? You did French a while back, and you can’t remember a thing.

Surfing then? Are you completely gaga, how can you surf, if you can’t swim?

This is getting boring, hang gliding? You don’t like heights!

How about becoming a Buddhist monk? You’re the wrong gender, stupid!

A hippie then? No, you did that, years ago.

Ok, head’s out of the clouds, last try. What about writing? Yep, I can do that! Yesss…you don’t even have to shop for that, you’ve got pen, paper, everything you need.

Now what can I write about, hmm... I know, I can write something on retirement. Yeah, now you’re talking.

To Name or Not To Name

Wow, what a lot of lovely bloggers out there. I never though for a moment
anyone would read my blog & I'm gob smacked.

Before I go any further I've gotta say a big thanks to Walker 'cause he went & changed his font just so it would be easer for little old me to read. Thanks Walker.

One of the comments I got on my "What If" post was from my long time friend who called herself Puppydog. Cheeky. I told her she needs to get a blog so, look out for it when she takes the plunge.

Now I have a question. Do you give names to possessions like your car? The reason I ask is because, my mate has just bought a new car an' we got into a big discussion about it. See, she insists on naming her cars. Reckons it keeps the car on side or working right.

So, now she has a car named Rev. No she's not a vicar. To understand this you need to know she breeds dogs. Parson Russell Terriers to be exact, and she also has a personalized number plate which reads PARSON.

Now, when I get a car it's just that 'the car'. I've never named it,never thought of it as a friend or helpmate of any kind. And now I'm worried, have I been mean to all those cars in my past. Are they languishing in breakers yards feeling sad and neglected 'cause their owner didn't appreciate them. Would they have had a happier life and felt fulfilled if I had named them?

Should I mend my ways and name my current car? Oh God that's another worry 'cause it might die of shock or something and I'll be carless.

Is the God of abandoned cars clocking up all my faults against the time I arrive in the hereafter. So he/she/it, (see I 'm not even sure about what sex if any the Car God is) can serve me a penance of some kind, like naming all the new baby cars or cleaning up after all the senile ones. Help!

What if...

I get these what if moments now & then, & the other day I got to thinking.

What if something we are used to seeing on a regular basis suddenly became invisible?

Just picture the following:

It’s no good I have to tell someone, and it might as well be you, after all, you are my best friend.

Sue placed their morning coffees on the table and sat down.

‘Now’. She paused, ‘what I’m about to say must remain a secret, you must promise not to tell a living soul’.

Best friend, Pat thought. Where did she get that from? Oh my god, I don’t need this, Ok, so we’ve had a few chats over coffee, that doesn't make us bosom pals dose it?

Pat rearranged her face and trying to look the part of a best friend and said. ‘Of course Sue, you know me; I’m the soul of discretion. My lips are sealed’.

‘I’m fat. There, I’ve said it; I’m fat, fat, fat, fat.

Of all the things Sue could have revealed, this was the last thing Pat was expecting. An affair perhaps, or even that she had robbed the local post office. It would have been easier to deal with, than fat.

'Well say something’ Sue yelled. ‘Don’t just sit there with that look on your face, please... say something even if it’s only goodbye...

MY WINTER OF DISCONTENT

I've only just decided to start blogging. I suppose you might well ask why? Well, I've started this web site see. I know, I know, most people my age are curled up with the TV or a good book. At the risk of sounding completely ga ga I'm not your average 60 year old. I like new challenges, so there.

Ok, here's the deal, you can pop back now an then to try keeping up with me or not, that's your choice. However, if you do, I promise to try my best to be entertaining. Ok? Feel free to post comments I always look on them as positive affermations that I'm still alive an kicking.

This blogg will be mostly about me, my family and my life in general. Writing about my life would not be complete without a look at the passing of time. While I can, and have, waxed lyrical on how things were in my past, what about the here & now?

At a trendy hairdressing salon in the millennium year, the march of time, & my age in particular, left me in need of a stiff drink & a whole bucketful of reassurance from friends.

It was just after our move from Hillingdon to Guildford, I was feeling a bit isolated & in need of some TLC, so I booked myself into this 'trendy salon' to have what I thought was a moral booster.

Now, you have to bear in mind, these people didn't know me from 'Eve'. However, this was a well-known chain and I was confident it would be just like the one I used previously. And I thought it was. That was my first mistake.

The perm rollers removed, I sat back as I usually do with my eyes closed, waiting to be finished off. The stylist returned and got to work, I continued to sit with my eyes closed, enjoying the usual pampering. That was my second mistake. Never, ever, take your eyes off the stylist after you turn fifty.

"There we are dear" he said holding up the mirror.

This can't be right. I counted the faces looking back at me. Just two. One trendy guy, and one odd looking woman. She had a large double chin, and little chipmunk pouches, topped off by an enormous thatch of iron-grey filings.

Who was this person? It certainly wasn't me. Well that was when I lost it. I grabbed a comb from the shelf and while a look abject terror slowly came over the 'trendy guys' face; I completely destroyed his creation.

'If I'd wanted to look like my grandmother', I growled viciously, dragging the comb through the offending thatch. 'I'd have brought a photograph of her for you to copy. I have never been so insulted' I poked and prodded trying to get my iron fillings where I wanted them to go.

'How old do you think I am? Just because I'am a grandmother, it doesn't follow that I want to look like your antiquated version of one. Who the hell trained you for god's sake? Medusa?'

I gathered what remained of my dignity; paid my bill, and left him to ponder on the errors of stereotyping.

Although I was, and still am comfortable with the way I have aged, I am not yet over the hill. Just because I've gained a little weight and a few grey hairs, they needn't think I'm ready for the knackers' yard yet.

I made myself a solemn promise that day. I will have to be dragged kicking and screaming into my dotage. Then,if all else fails I will don a purple hat.