Olympic Football

We are thinking of moving house but can we move to family friendly, community parked, good school area Firswood?

Out of the question.

We could never have a postal address that said Old Trafford.

He would rather move the family to the (admittedly gorgeous) George Mills designed Maine Road development.

‘Wow’ I say, ‘That house is amazing! But what area is it classed as?’

‘Erm, Moss Side really’ he says.

‘Let’s re-think Firswood’ I say.

Anyway our family trip to the Olympics (or at least one little bit of it!) has been abandoned.

My brother managed to get tickets to the men’s football tomorrow – no excuses about weak playing there, Spain V Morocco. So me and the two year old are staying home as the other two go and get even more football crazy!

Doctor Who?

When I was a kid I believed in Father Christmas for far, far, far too long. It wasn’t because I was gullible or stupid or even because I had a song in my head and a wish for magic in my heart – it was because my parents told me he existed. I refused to believe that they would ever ever lie to me. The knowledge that they did...

It wrecked my trust in my parents forever.

Over dramatic? Maybe, but so memorable I vowed not to do the same to my kids. I am always as honest as I can possibly be with my boys... so honest they have often decided to stop listening and run off to go down the slide half way through my elaborate and heart felt explanations for things!

So why then did I send my eldest son a postcard from Doctor Who?

I have begun an elaborate lie!

Last week as we were playing my six year old found an exciting shiny green plastic crystal ring.

‘That’s The Master’s’ he said amazed and locked in the game.

‘We have to send it to The Doctor!’ he squealed excitedly, ’So The Master doesn’t come back!’

‘Ah, yes!’ I said instantly spotting an opportunity for ‘writing with purpose’ – always the teacher!

He wrote a letter to Doctor Who his best possible spelling and his neatest smallest hand writing and we thought long and hard before thinking of a place in time and space we could leave it for him to collect.

We decided on that most magical place and most likely stop off point for a self respecting Time Lord was the chimney...

And there it stayed...

Until playing around with my phone I happened across the free postcard app from Touchnote and I happened across a photo I took of my precious first born next to a cardboard cut out of The Doctor when we were both in hospital with his fractured skull – me I was suffering from severe anxiety and Mummy stress!

The two things went together well enough and a plan was hatched!

I hid the ring on the window sill on my Grandma’s silver pot and wrote 220 characters as Doctor Who, explaining how I had de-activated the ring but thanking him for bringing it to my attention and sonic – ed it back into his own very front room in the pot on the window sill where it would now be safe to play with.

The postcard had a photo of him with cardboard cut out Doctor but taken with a retro camera app and blurry enough to look real!

Have I created a monster?

Will he believe it’s from him or me?

I’m hoping he’ll just realise that I love him so much I’ll do a crazy thing, a small thing, an embarrassing thing or basically any thing to make him smile...

Car Key Crazy!

We were away over the weekend, a lovely stay with my cousin on the east coast a bit chilly but a relief to be away from the constant Manchester drizzle.

As got home I was chatting to my next door neighbour who asked if we could look after her animals for a fortnight as she was off on her holidays. I was freaking out a little - picturing fox butchered rabbits and cats in her garden and quizzing her about safety techniques. (Secretly thinking thank god she got rid of the Giant African Land snail and wondering how she manages to keep the gerbils away from her two killer cats, mice and baby birds unwelcome gifts they have both left lying around).

All this chat and instruction meant I missed that most tiresome of chore the unpacking of the car.

Unremarkable.

Unremarkable until I tried to leave to go to work in the morning to realise my car keys were missing.

I grumpily woke up my partner who despite many, many years of my gentle reminders (or nagging as he prefers to see it!) had not put said key in the correct place.

So we searched.

In shoes, under sofa’s, behind pouffes, next to doors, inside pockets, underneath rugs.....

Nothing.

The spare key had been lost many moons ago - by him, he did not feel it was a helpful time to remind him of this!

Finally, I had to go to work in my partners car, slightly more macho, testosteroned tyred, football blue car and leave the mum mobile redundantly parked outside the front door.

He continued to search.

Emptying washing machines, scouring the pavement even searching through the bins and our two year is still in nappies and our rubbish is collected fortnightly...

Begging the kids, ‘Have you seen Mummy’s car keys, come on think!’

Nothing.

He called me at lunchtime.

‘Are you sure, you haven’t got them?’

‘Yes. Very sure.’

‘It’s just I’ve searched everywhere...’

‘Keep looking...’

He told me about when his lost car key turned up under the six year olds bed actually under the fitted carpet.

He’s getting spooked. His ‘poltergeist in the house’ theory is driving him mad. He’s threatening to move house if the keys don’t turn up soon...

As I write this, he is again emptying my handbags on the kitchen table. I don’t know where else to look but we are both gearing up to emptying the toy boxes, lifting the mattresses and tipping out kitchen drawers.

More wasted hours...