Domestic Oubliette

Words and Pictures

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Thu, 12 Feb 2015 19:52:00 +0000

You know that thing they say about buses? You wait there for ages and then three come at once. Well. That's my life.

Not necessarily in a bussy way you understand. Let me explain...

As mentioned in the last post, I have taken the plunge and gone back to college full time for this year. I've sent the D'Oub babies to be brought up by other people and now spend most of my day drawing and painting.

Art on book pages...nearly counts as writing?

I never realised quite how busy I'd be. Isn't Art meant to be relaxing, gentle, easy? But I have found myself hectic and under pressure practically from day one back in college. Don't misunderstand me, I've been delighted. My brain has been jump-started Frankenstein's monster style by all the deadlines and challenges. But goodness, it's time consuming.

A drawing I did based on a line from a book. Does this nearly count as writing?

So what happened to my writing? Well. I've kept at it. But at a slower pace. I've only sent out three pieces of work in the last six months.

A poem.

A short story.

A novel.

Russian dolls of writing.

But, as luck* would have it all three of them have done well for me.

(Warning! Shameless boasting approaching!)

My story, 'Salt', was a runner up last autumn in the RTE Guide/ Penguin Ireland Short Story Competition. To be chosen in the top ten out of over a 1000 stories was a real confidence booster. (Maybe I can write after all??)

In October my poem 'Storm' (aka 'Us') was shortlisted for the Jonathan Swift Poetry Competition.

And about three weeks ago I got a phone call which I still can't quite believe - my novel has been picked for this years Irish Writers Centre Novel Fair!

I must go pinch myself again.

The big day is in about ten days. On Saturday 21st.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Novel Fair, it's sorta like literary speed dating. 12 unpublished novels are picked and the authors are locked in a room (well, not actually locked) with a ton of agents and publishers. It's been running for four years and each year has seen a number of the lucky finalist end up with an actual, published, proper book on their hands.

That's the dream, isn't it!


My husband if he has to hear one more thing about my book!

I am excited and terrified in equal measure and hopefully on the 21st I'll do my novel justice.

I'll keep you posted. But right now, I better go do more prep for the day.

I think college will be getting stick figures for the foreseeable future :)

*that old chestnut perhaps? - "The harder I work, the luckier I get.-Samuel Goldwyn"

Words and Pictures

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Thu, 12 Feb 2015 19:52:00 +0000

Art on book pages...nearly counts as writing?

A drawing I did based on a line from a book. Does this nearly count as writing?


My husband if he has to hear one more thing about my book!

*that old chestnut perhaps? - "The harder I work, the luckier I get.-Samuel Goldwyn"

So, what you been up to since I last saw you...

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Mon, 05 Jan 2015 01:32:00 +0000

2015!

Hell yeah!

Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough 2015!

This used to be a bit of a life/writing blog. I used to really love it. Then the demon baby D'Oub came along and there was no time. None. Demon baby D'oub is now 4. She's still a tough nut. But less time consuming.

Time to blog again?

Well.

I filled that demon void by going back to college.

I am a proud owner of a full time student card.

I am doing an art portfolio preparation course. Have literally no idea what I'm going to do once this course is done. Well, maybe some writing? Yes. Possibly. And then more art study hopefully.

So, in the meantime, what say this becomes a life/art/tiny bit of writing blog?

Let's give it a whirl!!

So, here are my life - i.e. my babies.

(Note how happy baby/toddler D'Oub looks - that's cause she knows she rules the roost. All roosts.)

And here is some of the art work I've been doing since September.

My little darling sleeps. And for a brief few minutes we are not all her servants.

Balls!

I know people don't like feet. Sorry about that.

So, hey, maybe there will be a next time! Maybe Domestic Oub is back. Just maybe...

So, what you been up to since I last saw you...

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Mon, 05 Jan 2015 01:32:00 +0000

And there's more...

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Fri, 28 Dec 2012 13:59:00 +0000

I kept forgetting to bring the poem with me.

Wallet?

Check.

Keys?

Check?

Poem to leave in a shop to be found by an unsuspecting shopper to brighten their day during the stressful Christmas season?

Forgotten :(

Thankfully I had the best Christmas present and met up with the lovely Various Cushions - IPYPIASM originator extraordinaire - for a coffee yesterday. And she suggested, why didn't I just transcribe the poem there and then and place it in a shop, immediately!

So I did!

The evidence -

It was more of a before Christmas day poem, but hey, better late than never.

I hashtagged again - for those unfamiliar with the hashtag, it makes your term searchable on Twitter - I've been tweeting about IPYPIASM - and been directing people back to the blogosphere...sure, maybe the cleaning lady is crumbling up my poem without a second thought, but, hey, I know if I found a poem, the curiosity would kill me :)

Anyway, here's the text of the poem - not my finest work, but hey, who cares, it's all part of the IPYPIASM spirit!

Don't Count

For now don't count
the calories
don't tot those pennies spent
just dose your liver
till it's all a quiver
and the last belt notch is rent
have that chocolate Kimberly
that tin of roses too
buy a gift, don't be spendthrift
Get yourself a treat this year!
And don't forget the booze
go buy a crate of beer,
a bottle or nine of a conducive wine
don't stint, don't stint, don't stint!
Cause remember that when it's January
we'll be thrust once more t' penury
so eat and drink and give
2013 is time enough for cold reality.

And there's more...

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Fri, 28 Dec 2012 13:59:00 +0000

Multimedia IPYPIASM!

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Thu, 20 Dec 2012 22:14:00 +0000

Yes, I've IPYPIASMed!

Finally.

Deposited in the pound (euro?) shop in The Square, Tallaght, this little ditty -

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I've been a little bit naughty

I've been a little bit nice

what say you still get me a pressie

and we'll go halvsies on the price.

I won't be troubling the Nobel Prize for Literature this year with that offering, but hopefully it brought a smile to someones face.

And below is the visual evidence of my guerrilla poetry attack.

For, what I suspect, is the first time, we have VIDEO footage of an IPYPIASM incident... In my panic to dump my effort and run, I somehow managed to set my phone to video and not camera. I scrambled madly at it, all the while imagining security guards raising an army, grabbing their mace and batons and being moments away from apprehending me...

(Quite the accidental Spielberg, no?)

It was fraught! I felt like my poem might explode at any moment. Anway, in the end I escaped unscathed and they probably sold my poem for a euro.

On an aside, I was telling my baby brother all about IPYPIASM. After he pretended to think me and my crazeeeee poetry chums were wacky and cool, he suggested adding a hastag to the abandoned poems. Maybe see if any of our messages in a bottle wash up anywhere. So, at the bottom of my print out, where I'd usually just have IPYPIASM, I instead had #IPYPIASM... and I sent a few tweets using it.

I thought it was a good idea - but chances are it'll just get me arrested ;)

I like living on the edge.

Ok. Until tomorrow - TK Maxx, watch out - I'm heading your way and I'm rhyming.

Multimedia IPYPIASM!

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Thu, 20 Dec 2012 22:14:00 +0000

Yes, I've IPYPIASMed!

Finally.

Deposited in the pound (euro?) shop in The Square, Tallaght, this little ditty -

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I've been a little bit naughty

I've been a little bit nice

what say you still get me a pressie

and we'll go halvsies on the price.

IPYPIASM!!! (Well, nearly)

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Tue, 18 Dec 2012 01:17:00 +0000

Yay!!!

It's IPYPIASM!!!!

I've come to it all a bit late this year (- but you know, I always do...)

And really, this post is a tad premature... I haven't, as yet, put a poem in a shop. The main reason I haven't is because I have failed to write a poem. I have tried a good few times. Nowt.

I worry that along with killing off the h. pylori bacteria that was causing my stomach ulcer, my cocktail of drugs also killed off my writing mojo!! Who knew I kept it in my tummy! Though, seeing as all the best poetry comes from your gut, so maybe I should have realised...

What to do? I suspect I need some l. casei poetritas. Good writing bacteria.

I'm off to the library to drink me in some pro-biographies, some Reader bifidus digestivum, replenish my depleted muse.

Alright, enough, I go before Martine McCutcheon turns up and starts talking shite...

IPYPIASM!!! (Well, nearly)

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Tue, 18 Dec 2012 01:17:00 +0000

40 And Not Out...

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Fri, 23 Nov 2012 19:10:00 +0000

Hello darlings,

So, I survived. I turned 40 and I didn't spontaneously combust. In fact everything has pretty much carried on as normal! Whodathunkit.

But, I have been making changes. I decided living my life at a pace where I didn't need botox for my wrinkles as the g-forces from rushing around were doing the job instead, just had to end. I am only one mortal woman.

The problem is two fold. A, I can't get rid of the children. Apparently now I've had them I've got to keep them. So, that means that b, some of the things I like to do away from the kids have got to go.

What to give up?

This has vexed me for weeks.

The writing? But I can't give that up cause I love it and it's going to make my fortune one of these days. (though I've been so shattered by my busy life I haven't even been writing that much.)

The scrapbooking? ah now no, that's my stress relief. If I can't cut up colouredy paper and attach photos to it that I just don't want to live!

The allotment? What, give up the one healthy outdoors activity I do? (Not that we've been able to get up there in six months... we grow weeds now. We're very good at it.)

Seeing friends? But I like my friends...

Pilates on a Tuesday night? Hmm, I'd happily give that up but I'm not allowed.

So, I'm stuck... what to do?

Just as fed up as her mammy

And it's important that I do. Cause I've been feeling icky. Not well. I was told by a lovely English doctor during the week that I do in fact have an ulcer. And yes, sure ulcers are caused these days by a bacteria, but the stress of my little middle class life hasn't been helping.

hmmm.

But I just can't decide!

Help!

(That was more of a rhetorical help as I know no one blogs anymore!)

40 And Not Out...

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Fri, 23 Nov 2012 19:10:00 +0000

Just as fed up as her mammy

Snuffleupagus

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Fri, 19 Oct 2012 16:38:00 +0000

I've got a snuffle.

A sniffle.

And a bit of a cough :(

I'm feeling yucky.

This would normally be enough to send the D'Oub into a downward spiral of misery and self-pity. (I like to play to my strengths.) But, this time I'm worried. Because I'm having a party on Sunday.

Why am I having a party I hear you ask?

Because, this Sunday, D'Oub is officially over the hill. Old. Ancient. Ready to be carbon dated. Slated for obsolescence. Long past her Logan's Run sell by date.

I'm going to be 40.

Sigh.

How old I really feel

I know, I know, 40 is the new 30 etc, etc. But I'm not buying that. Cause I've got a touch of arthritis. And it's spread to my right big toe. And I'm off into the hospital for a test to see if I have an ulcer next week. I am only just over a very painful injured shoulder which I seem to have hurt opening a packet of biscuits or something. Basically, what I'm saying is, my body is shutting down. It's collapsing! Old age! I've fulfilled my reproductive role, produced an heir and a spare and a spare and a spare, so now I should be put on an ice floe and bid farewell to.

But, while raging against that dark night, I was convinced by my child groom husband to have a party. And I agreed even though I normally don't 'do' parties. So, this Sunday I'm having a shindig. And I'm hoping the shoulder stays ok. And that the ulcer keeps it's acid tongue to itself. The drink should dull the pain of my creaking joints. But a snuffle, and a sniffle and a bit of a cough. They're hard to ignore! They could diminish what little enjoyment I'll be able to squeeze out from such a shocking event as being 40.

Time to mainline some echinacea.

Overdose on oranges.

Take a long swim in some vitamin c.

And if anyone knows the way to the fountain of eternal youth, do let me know.

Or at the very least a good plastic surgeon.

See you on Monday, if I survive,

Snuffleupagus

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Fri, 19 Oct 2012 16:38:00 +0000

How old I really feel

Anyone out there?

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 23:22:00 +0000

Where is everyone?

It's gone all quiet around here!

Once there was a vibrant blogging community and now everyone seems quite quiet.

Is it cause you missed me? You only had to say.

It's ten to midnight, so, even if there were people still on their blogs they wouldn't see this, they'd be in their beds right now.

Well, I just don't care!

I'm going to scream and shout and just generally lept about here in a wanton and carefree manner!

Fa, la, la, la, la.

Ah alright, here's a poem I wrote recently....

Rejuvenation

It's kinda kinky
paying for pain
My Torquemada turns the screw
I've nothing to confess
but much to repent
turn the screw to
close the chink
where we let in doom
were seduced by the
pleasures of the flesh
And as he stretches and
prods and counts and cajoles
I succumb and picture
that butterfly sleeping
in it's adipose cocoon
and imagine soon, she
might perhaps
emerge, recover, bloom.

Louise's Launch!

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Fri, 07 Sep 2012 11:18:00 +0000

So, here we are on the next step of Louise Phillips' Red Ribbons blog tour! Wednesday night was her big night, and when I say 'big' I am not exaggerating, her launch in Hughes and Hughes was massive! So completely well deserved!

We had a bit of a chat, before and during launch day. What I wanted from Louise was to see launch day through her eyes, so I asked her all sorts of annoying questions about how the day was going... she was good enough to answer. And while I was at it, she was quizzed on the book itself, Red Ribbons...

Tríona:"It's the beginnings of the day of your launch, how are you feeling? Excited? Nervous? Terrified!"

Louise: "I feel all of those things Triona and so much more. My head is rushing with so many thoughts that my mind can’t filter it all properly. I suppose it’s a bit like all major events in your life, you plan, you imagine, you think you know how you are going to feel, you tell yourself that when the time comes, just savour it, bank it in that place called memory, and while you’re at it, remember to enjoy yourself!

I have read in public before, I have spoken in public before, and yes I am often nervous, but I have worked hard to overcome these things, yet another skill base of being a writer that you must manage. But no matter how many times I prepare properly, I still get those butterflies. Now, it’s usually five seconds before I am called on to speak! But this morning, those darn butterflies are turning into armies of butterflies, they have minds of their own, and I’ve a feeling I ain’t going to be able to stop them. Practically everyone I know will be at the launch this evening, and that in itself is a pretty scary thought!"

Tríona: "Okay, so it's the beginning of launch day, tell me about another very important beginning, that of 'Red Ribbons' - where did the story come from?"

Louise: "It started with an ambition of mine to get inside a bad man’s head. This challenged me on two fronts. Firstly crossing gender – not as easy to do fictionally as you might imagine, and secondly, to enter the mind of a character so far removed from me as a person, that the only place I could find him was in my deepest fears."

Tríona: "Lunch Time! This evening is getting closer! What's happening in the Phillips household now? Getting hair done? Tweaking the speech?"

Louise: "Hair is booked for one o’clock. Melissa, the best hairdresser in the world will be chatty, that girl can make a dull day turn into a carnival! I’ve to pick up about a million things, including balloons, red and black ones with ribbons standing 7 feet tall. Three o’clock is the makeup appointment. I’m dreading this as the trial run wasn’t very successful. I don’t like heavy makeup, and strong lipsticks don’t suit me, but I was aiming for something that might be a little beyond my usual bland, neutral, ah that girl doesn’t wear makeup kind of look, but DISASTER. So I’m not sure what’s going to happen there – I guess I’ll just wing that.

My house looks like a bomb hit it, and I’m not sure why! Hubby is being helpful, but I can tell I’m stressing him out – I’m stressing me out.

Every time I pick up the piece of paper with my few words jotted down, by hands shake – NOT A GOOD SIGN!!"

Tríona: "Back to the novel! Okay, so you've begun the novel, but how difficult was it getting that first draft down on paper?'

Louise: "Maybe it’s a bit like giving birth; you only remember the good bits afterward 

I had to be disciplined, I committed to 2,000 words per day, or 10,000 per week. This often meant eating into Saturday and Sunday, as once I commit, I am usually pretty stubborn that a thing will happen. I would write early morning, and midday when I got the day job out of the way, I would write instead of making dinner, shopping, washing, talking to friends on the phone. I postponed the entire Christmas preparation until the eve of Christmas Eve. I edited the previous day’s work to get my mind back into the script each day. I read it aloud; I read it from the voices of the three main characters, starting with the killer’s voice. I darn near panicked when I felt time was running out on me. I wanted it finished by a certain date. A date I had promised to myself, in part of means of tricking those doubting voices that come into every writer’s head.

The first draft nearly killed me at times, but God did I miss all my characters when it was done."

Tríona: "Time to be leaving the house. Calm before the storm?"

Louise: "I’m now aiming for storm before the calm. It will be okay on the night!!! Clichés exist because they usually make sense, but I’m aiming for a u-turn on this one. It is late afternoon, and I already think I should have packed the bag of things I need before this!!!"

Tríona: "When your book was picked up by Hachette - that must have been amazing... but while it probably felt like the end of one journey, was it really the beginning of a new one?"

Louise: "It felt like a dream come true, yet another cliché, but sure every now and then it’s nice to use them. I had no idea what the next leg journey would entail. I knew nothing about agents, contracts, publishers, what was and wasn’t expected of me. I had done research of course, but the real deal is very different when it happens. Suddenly there are a million questions and the learning curve looks daunting. I had no idea of so many things; I had very few answers to lots of questions. But I learned fast, because you have to. Every part of the journey is different, from the early days of contracts and deadlines, to editing, copy editing, cover design, website development, all the way to writing the acknowledgements, and now the launch speech. It is all new and scary, but thrilling and ultimately what I’ve always wanted to do."

Tríona: "You're on your way to town, into Hughes and Hughes. Soon, very soon, everyone will be able to buy their own copy of Red Ribbons. How does that feel?"

Louise: "Oh God! And oh God again!! It feels like the most amazing thing ever. I’m a writer. I write stories. And now I’m a writer whose book will be read by friends, family, strangers, the girl from the shop where I ordered the Red Ribbons for the launch, my doctor, my butcher, my life, and then some more. How the heck can you get your mind around such a thing? But, if people read my book, and I’m sincerely hoping many do, and if they like it, well I love them. We all have tons of love in us, and I’m hoping I’ll work hard on my reserves, build them up to a nice big juicy healthy heart!"

Tríona: "The final draft, the book that went to the printers, how did you feel about it?"

Louise: "I felt proud. I know others might not like it, I know it may not be perfect, I know I will open it up at times and think I could have done that better, but right then, and now, I know I worked that manuscript to the very best of my experience, and I still read parts of it and think, my heaven, that was a story worth telling."

Tríona: "You're here! And so is your adoring public! Do you feel like you've won the X-Factor? (without any nasty Simon Cowell!)"

Louise: "I could do with a Simon Cowell to concentrate my thoughts! The staff in Hughes and Hughes have been brilliant, and I feel very confident that they know what to do. Everything should be in place, but I’m so used to doing things for myself, that the feeling of letting go is making the whole thing feel strange. I’m watching people arrive, and I’m nervous that not enough people will show up, and equally nervous if lots of people do. I don’t do celebrity, so it feels totally weird. Part of me wants to point to Niamh O’Connor, and believe it is her book launch and not mine. I already feel like I’m going to cry because I see so many familiar faces, and those I don’t know, I’m wondering should I know. People are being lovely, and supporting, and amazing, and I probably have a stupid grin on my face, even though the tears are very close."

Tríona: "Once the book is out there, with the public, what are your hopes for it?"

Louise: "I hope people love it. One person, ten people, a hundred people. I did a reading in Ballymun a couple of weeks before the launch, and the following week, twelve people had the novel on back order with the library! How utterly fantastic is that, twelve people putting their name down to read my book. I hope it creates excitement, I hope people tell me if they liked it, I hope to see it in shops at the airport, someone reading it on the dart, on the bus, curled up on their couch at home, put on shelves in faraway holiday places, on the beach. Each copy is a piece of me, I hope it does its job and then some. All the other stuff, PR, promotion, league tables, reviews, and everything else which goes hand in hand with publication, only matters if the story is right, as Stephen King says, "it’s all about the story."

Tríona: "It's the end of the evening. It must have been one hell of a day. How are you feeling?"

Louise: "My feet are wrecked, high shiny black heels are dangerous!!! I’m elated. I’ve never talked so much in my life. I’ve forgotten who I’ve told what to. My hubby looks as wrecked as I do, my entire family look like they been through it all with me, because, they have. I’m hoping for so many things, but right now, I’ve made my brain stop. It has happened. The book is launched. It is a done deal, until of course the next leg of the journey gears up. For now though, sleep is very much on the cards."

Tríona: "So, what's next for Louise Phillips, published author?"

Louise: "Doing what I love. Writing. I’m back to The Dolls House the first chance I get. My aim is to have first draft finished by Christmas, now where have I heard that before??? January, I’ll be minding my beautiful granddaughter while my daughter finishes her Master's, so everything else will take a back seat to that. Come February, it will all start all over again. Crazy but great!"

(PS... Just a reminder to everyone, and yes, I mean everyone!, get out and buy the book this week. But when you do, make sure you go into Easons, Hughes&Hughes, your local bookshop and buy it - Amazon is great but Amazon doesn't count towards the Irish best sellers list - and that is where we want her to be! We have until Tuesday to get her there! Go Red Ribbons! )

(PPS... My international readers, we'll let you order off Amazon :) Unless of course you have Irish relatives...Get them to get you a copy ;)

Slight Delay

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Thu, 06 Sep 2012 17:04:00 +0000

Okay folks. The author has asked, as she was so bowled over by the success of last nights launch, that the next stop of her blog tour waits until tomorrow. So check back tomorrow!

Never Fear, D'Oub is here!

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Wed, 05 Sep 2012 13:39:00 +0000

My darlings, my darlings, I am back!

Back from the wilderness where I have wandered, lost and bereft.

And I mean that metaphorically. I have, of course been sitting on de sofa in my beloved semi-detached house in West Dublin.

The wilderness, sadly, has been a literary one. Well. No, that's not quite right. I have been writing. The new novel has been started. And a few poems too.

But I haven't been sharing. Why? It's nothing you did. No, it is me. Not you. I set the standard too high in my mind. I wanted to make you laugh, smile, think, muse. I wanted every post from this blog to change your life. Rock your world. And when I couldn't deliver? I shake my head, but, I have to admit, I gave up :( Oh, the shame, the shame, the shame. I failed you.

Can you ever forgive me?

And I guess, while I'm here, baring my soul, I should confess. I have cheated on you. Oh forgive me! Forgive me! I have, gulp, another blog!!! A mistress. She was just the shoulder to cry on that I needed. So undemanding. So unconcerned with whatever nonsense I wanted to whitter on about. But, you know about her now. Maybe you two can be friends? I hope so...

So, what brought me back here? Why has The D'Oub returned to the fold? Well, for one, I know that I was wrong. I should never have left you, no matter how hard it got. I should have stuck it out through thick and thin. I understand that now. But more importantly I have a message. A message from one who never turned her back on her craft! One who today, as I type this message is preparing for her anointing as the biggest and best among us....

Blogospshere, friends, treasured confidantes, I return, the prodigal blogger, to offer the fatted calf to the constant, the devoted, Louise Phillips!!! Tomorrow she will visit my lowly hovel, and spread her wondrous blessing to all! Hallelujah!!!

Yes, D'Oub is back and it's all going to be okay.

(PS In case that was all a little unclear, Louise Phillips, author extraordinaire is visiting tomorrow as part of her brillo Red Ribbons blog tour! Catch her interview here and simultaneously on my other, other blog, TríonaWalsh, where I pretend to be a serious author! lol!)

Never Fear, D'Oub is here!

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Wed, 05 Sep 2012 13:39:00 +0000

Busy D'Oubs

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Fri, 25 May 2012 23:08:00 +0000

Too busy to blog! And even now, there's no time! So, in pictures, what the D'Oubs been doing!

With the Poetry Divas I (and family) went to the wonderfully pagan Festival of the Fires three weeks ago. I (but not family) had fun reading some of me pomes to the assembled throng. Well, semi-throng.

A carved bloke and my mostly happy kids.

A Diva senior and a Diva junior. Only one of them is happy with the boa.

Robbing the Heritage Tent sign. Delinquent.

The eponymous Fire.

Cool carvedy bloke.

So, what else did we get up to? Well, we had a visit with the Speech Therapist. It was a great week for talking for the D'Oubs. Two out of the four kids were forcibly ejected from the care of the community speech Therapists. A.k.a - they're fixed! Yay! I did my happy dance. Fourth child is too young to talk, so they can't kick her off their list just yet... we have to wait and see if she learns to talk all wrong before that. and bless her, she says 'boob' very well right now. And in these days of austerity cut backs, I'm sure she'll be discharged on the strenght of it.

Sadly eldest child is still on their books. He doesn't say his 'R' properly. The way he pronounces it make him sound English. So, basically, having an English accent is regarded as a speech impediment. Lol! Oh, we had a right giggle over that.

So, below three pictures were taken by my darling spawn as I tried to talk seriously to the poor speech therapist. I had to interrupt her and stop the photo session when sister D'Oub got up on the chair, waggled her arse and told her brother to take a picture. God, help us.

Stroike a loight, guv'nor!

I am the very model of a modern Major-General...

Getting ready to get up on chair to waggle arse.

Then we had a visit to the grounds of the Italian embassy. The embassy is located in the village, behind giant gates, which you never see beyond. Very kindly, the ambassador threw open the gates (well, one of his flunkies did...) and for a tenner - in aid of the Lucan Festival - we got a guided tour around the grounds. And boys oh boys, they were beautiful. But it made me cross! Afterwards it felt like the Ambassador was like the Selfish Giant of Oscar Wilde's story - keeping such a beautiful garden all to himself! Oh how I wished eternal winter on him after our visit. I'm a very bitter person.

Then we went to the Zoo! I shan't bore you with a long description of our trip around the zoo, expect to say, it was the most fun trip I ever had. See below D'Oub child two - feeding giraffes! Lucky fecker.

And finally, the last few days have been wonderful, the weather glorious. We are getting value for money from our new garden. We all have new freckles. The new grass is looking a little ropey. All good :) Long may it last!

Talk to you soon... once I get my breath back!

Busy D'Oubs

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Fri, 25 May 2012 23:08:00 +0000

A carved bloke and my mostly happy kids.

A Diva senior and a Diva junior. Only one of them is happy with the boa.

Robbing the Heritage Tent sign. Delinquent.

The eponymous Fire.

Cool carvedy bloke.

Stroike a loight, guv'nor!

I am the very model of a modern Major-General...

Getting ready to get up on chair to waggle arse.

Sweet and Sour Christening

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Wed, 02 May 2012 00:31:00 +0000

April 10th!!! I last posted April 10th!!! Christ! It just gets worse.

I am still alive!

I am not a number.

Etc.

Everyone, check your blog comments, cause I finally got to look at them and have a read. And yes, I am blogging at ten to one in the morning. I was falling asleep at 7pm, but obviously someone mixed up the caff with the decaff again, so here I am!

I just wrote half a poem about breastfeeding, but it seems rather graphic and inappropriate, so I won't post that.

Lets see, what else? Hmm..

Well, I won a competition today. Sure there were only two of us in the hat and it required no skill on my part at all, but hey, a wins a win!

Any other news?

Oh yes, we finally got around to christening Baby Oub on Sunday. It was all fun in the church - but then we got back to the house and I suddenly turned into the personal servant of my thirty closet family members. I cooked, from scratch I might add, a meal of fried rice and sweet and sour chicken (I made the sauce even!) hotdogs for the kids (ok, I didn't make them from scratch. urgh, the very thought.) provided drinks, tea, five different desserts, fun, laughter, joy! Bah. I'm fecking shattered! And they didn't even have the decency not to finish everything, so I had no leftovers to feed the D'Oub babes for the rest of the week. Feckers.

But it was a special day. Unfortunately Baby Oub got her Christening mixed up with her Confirmation - ie confirmation making you an adult in the eyes of the church -so she'd been refusing to go to bed until after 10pm the last two nights. Or maybe the devil was exhausting her, and now he's gone she's a lot less tired...

Speaking of tired, I'm going to go off to sleep now.

Hopefully.

Sweet and Sour Christening

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Wed, 02 May 2012 00:31:00 +0000

Gardens and poetry

noreply@blogger.com (Domestic Oub) — Tue, 10 Apr 2012 20:53:00 +0000

I've posted four times this year. How useless is that? Every time I have posted, I've enjoyed myself so much I've promised that this time, really, this time I will post again in a few days. But life is just nuts around here. And maybe the sooner I accept that, the sooner I'll get to more regular posting. Maybe the realisation that my life is chaos, will stay chaotic, the sooner I will just seize the day and guerrilla post - blogging suddenly and without warning...

So, here is a smorgasbord of what's been going on Chez D'Oub -

The garden got done! The stress nearly killed me. Here's a cool time lapse video of it -

What else?

Well,

[post edited. poem that was here will be back soon!]