Mad English woman

Is there anything more to worry about?

2011-02-24T23:12:00.000-08:00

I know, it's been far too long (a recurring theme with me). So much has been happening, that I barely have the energy just to survive at the moment, never mind blog on a regular basis. My son has been suffering from absolutely horrific behaviour problems-and we have finally got some help in the form of consultations with a psychologist to have him diagnosed (could just be that the Swedish health system is more switched- on than the UK's, I don't know). Things have been so tough that I have had to go to the doctors myself with pains in my arm, and yesterday I went for an ecg.

Here's the scary part: The ecg wasn't normal, the doctor said. Cue much anxiety and freaking out from me , and phone calls to the hospital, begging to be seen earlier than the referral which the doctor said she would send off for me. Yes I know, it seems selfish, begging to be shunted forward in the queue, but I defy anybody not to do the same, given the situation. When you're at rock bottom, the only way to go is selfish-town, I'm afraid, I'm gonna finally look after number one. I'm knackered, stressed, and getting daily abuse from my son into the bargain. Depressed just isn't the word, and I have been saying the past few weeks that if there wasn't anything wrong with my heart, it would be a miracle...and now here we are. I called the hospital this morning and discovered that I have already been allocated an appointment for a stress test...on 28th March. The super-nice lady on the other end she could understand why I was worried and that if I suffer any more pains etc, I should go to the emergency department, as "they have more resources" and can do tests quicker.

It's really cheeky of me to say this, I know, but I'm going to be going there sooner rather than later so I can either put this behind me if they say nothing is wrong...or get the treatment I need....

Watch this space...

Don't piss me off by taking my pictures!

2010-11-13T04:36:00.000-08:00

This week I had the dubious honour of one of my so-called friends, ripping off MY photos from Facebook, & sticking them on HER blog, without my permission. Compounded by the fact that she added cute little captions, as if she was the one that took them. These pictures were pictures which myself & my other half took at the Technical University here, when Sweden's Crown Princess Victoria visited. Naturally, there were lots of people who turned out to see her & her husband, Prince Daniel. My friend was also apparently there, but I didn't see her, as the place was heaving. The photos that she took aren't that great, so I guess she thought she could take ours and add them to her pictures...
Now, I'm all for people having fun and doing blogs about their lives, but what hacks me off is the fact that HER blog is about HER life, so why should it be littered with MY photos? And without permission too?
I haven't felt able to raise this with her, as she would probably be absolutely mortified if she knew she had annoyed me like that, and I don't want to cause a rift or anything. Friends are thin on the ground when you first move to a new country!
So instead, I took the opportunity to post a link on Facebook to a story on TheLocal.se from yesterday. This story is about another Facebook picture rip-off, and the fact that doing this without someone's permission is actually against the law here.
Do you think she will take the hint? I wait with baited breath.....
Moral of the story, folks: If you think someone's pictures on Facebook are great, & you want to show others, then at least have the decency to ask them first (I would have said yes on this occasion, had she done this). Oh, and give them a picture credit too. Then you won't piss off your friends or the polis!!

Välkommen...please take a number from the machine, & for Christs sake don't try anything without a person number.

2010-09-28T02:38:00.000-07:00

Now that I've been living here for a few months, I feel qualified to mention those weird little things about living in Sweden. The transition to the way of life over here has been relatively painless, if a little exasperating at times (see below), however so far, we're taking it all in our stride.
However, I am not naive enough to think that it will always be like this-for instance, I've heard so many horrific stories about crappy Swedish red-tape that I've not even started down the road of registering my right of residence here yet (and consequently, signing up for the language classes also). I have heard it is particularly hard for single mums (like I was until I came here) to register their child with the migration service, as Migrationsverket can never get their heads round the fact that some people just don't have another parent's wishes to take into account, because the other parent doesn't give a toss. I'll get round to it after I can't think of enough excuses not to-for now, I can travel the public transport system, buy top-ups for my phone (and call the automated voice that tells you your balance (and understand the balance) ), buy myself a sandwich (ok, that's cheating, because they are happy to let you order in English in Subway), and I even understand how much my shopping is when the checkout operator says all the numbers. So that's good enough for me for a little while.
Anyway, back to the subject, which is the odd little things that I have observed in Sweden, and nowhere else. The idiosyncracies, if you will. Most of them strange, and/or funny, some ridiculous, & the odd one disgusting. Enjoy.

1/ Let's get this one over with right away. Spitting on the street all the time. Vile! I've even seen women doing it! No matter how rough the part of Edinburgh that I used to live in was, I never saw women doing that there!! Actually, I'm wondering if Grant from Becoming Swedish (fantastic blog) can tell me how to say what he says when he sees that (I can't print it here lol). I'll be forever grateful if you can fill me in, Grant, as somehow I don't think they would tell me that when I get to SFI.

Note: Info now received from grant. Thanks mate :-) Oh, and I have already used it once-to a woman. Bleurgh.

2/ The number ticket system. This is the little machine in many shops and health centres, banks etc, which dispenses little numbered tickets. The object being that when your number comes up, you get served. It's quite good, because it means that no-one can jump the queue, even if they try, because they're not in possession of the relevant number. You do have to remember to take the ticket in the first place though.

3/ The odd habit that Swedes have, of dumping all leftover food in the kitchen sink. I've lost count of the times I have been at my partner's relatives houses, and seen half a pan of leftover spaghetti, or all manner of cruddy mess, clogging up the sink. Just a suggestion guys, but why didn't you just scrape the plates/empty the pans properly into the bin, instead of having to grab handfuls of slimy pasta out of the sink later?

4/ The little old lady's voice that tells bus passengers which street/bus stop they are coming up to next (I've no idea whether this is Sweden-wide, or just happens in this town, by the way). There is also an electronic display on the buses, with the same information displayed. I'm assuming the voice is there for the benefit of blind people, & the display for people who just don't know where they're going. Anyway, I like it, and it gives my boyfriend a good laugh when I do the voice.

5/ The personnummer thing. Like a social insurance number. Only, The Swedes take it to extremes. See, in most countries, this number would only ever be used when you call the tax office, or somewhere similar. However, The Swedes completely abuse the privilege, and use it to control and spy on everything that every citizen ever does here. For instance, I spent quite a lot of money in our local Apoteket the other day (The State-run pharmacy), and the assistant asked me if I wanted to sign up for a loyalty card. I was just about to say yes, when I thought I'd better mention I didn't have a personnummber. Well, that was it. No can do. I mean, seriously-a frickin' loyalty card???? it's not as if I am a criminal who was trying to pay with someone's stolen credit card, and she wanted to check me out. I paid cash, with my own money, and there was no good reason why I should have to tell the assistant my magic bloody number just to get a few kr off my next purchase. But like lemmings, nobody except foreigners ever questions this system. It's just "the way it is".
(Get used to hearing that phrase, by the way).

6/ The big performance which ensues, every times you want to buy something other than groceries in ICA, or a tube of hand cream from the perfume shop. For some reason there seems to be a lot of data and information required from the buyer (not the store), and various bits of paper have to be filled in and passed back & forth between the parties, with much humming & hah-ing, until finally we can depart from the store with the item. Oh for the days of walking into Sainsburys' clothing/electrical department, picking what you want off the shelf/hanger, and marching up to the till with it, the whole process taking 2 minutes.

7/ The price of just about everything in Sweden. From groceries to irons, it's scary. People here are getting diddled, that's for sure. I have spoken to several Swedish people recently, who were completely unaware of this fact, never having been to the UK. We moan that things are expensive in the UK (compared to the USA, for example), but Sweden actually makes the UK look like the USA, if that make sense. The best advice I can give any expat who comes to Sweden, is to travel home with as near to empty cases as you can get them, and fill up with your favourite foods, clothing, and medicines before you come back. You'll probably save the cost of your flight or even more-and you've had a little holiday into the bargain. Nice.

8/ The little motorised yellow carts that the posties ride around on here-it's so civilised. I can always tell when our postie is due to appear, as I hear the whirring of the cart as he or she tootles along (with a safety helmet, of course). Today I was actually standing at our open flat door when the lady came up the stairs, as my sister had sent a parcel for my birthday tomorrow, and today was the last chance it had to come without me being disappointed tomorrow morning. Parcels from home take on a huge importance when you live overseas. I explained to the postie why I was standing there all ready, and she even wished me Happy Birthday. Can anyone imagine the sullen, scruffy average British postie saying that? I think not.

By the way, my parcel came :-)

9/ The laundry system. To some, highly frustrating. To me, I actually love it! Back in the UK, we spent all our time with crispy towels that were like sandpaper after having dried naturally (we didn't have a tumble dryer), and washing cost an absolute fortune. Whereas here, the laundry facilities are included in the rent, so we can wash and dry to our heart's content, and we don't rack up a bill. Actually, our Swedish electricity for the past 3 months, was actually way less than what I paid for ONE MONTH, back home. This is clearly the exception to the "horrendous price of everything" comment I made above. A welcome one, at that! Actually, thinking about it, if they didn't have cheap leccy in Sweden, people would no doubt die, as it's so darned cold in winter!!

The laundry system actually comes with some pretty strict & unspoken rules. The main one being that on no account do you overrun your time, and eat even one minute into the next person's time. The one time that somebody did that to us, I found myself standing there tapping my feet, all the while asking my boyfriend to tell the guilty party in Swedish that we had hot food ready to be served (which we did). She won't be doing THAT again, I can tell you. Laundry rage isn't nice. And besides, WE always stick to the rules!! Rumour has it that someone actually brought out a book, full of the notes that people in Sweden have left for each other in laundry houses (because Swedes don't usually talk to each other, you know)...lol...you gotta love that!

10/ What's not to like about the lady in the local bakery giving you a free kanelbulle, because it's National Kanelbullar (cinnamon buns) day? Couldn't imagine getting say, a free sausage roll from Greggs, our local bakers back home...maybe that was because it was never worth celebrating any of their products? Either that, or they were just apathetic. Anyway, the lady in the bakery put a smile on my face yesterday :-)

Farewell, dear friend...

2010-06-29T14:50:00.000-07:00

It was losing a follower which kicked my arse back into action after a long period of inactivity. Sorry folks. What can I say.....preparing for the imminent Swedish move (less than 7 days til blast off) left me with so little time for myself, it wasn't funny.
The flat looks like a bomb went off in a rubbish factory, we've been eating crappy food because I haven't had time to shop properly, and people have gone unwashed (i.e me).
Between all the packing, and admin (today I collected our medical records summaries from the doctor, went for an eye test & chose new glasses, managed to fit in a quick shop at Sainsburys, hoovered the flat, filled approx 6 boxes, cleared out about a zillion drawers, finding everything from smelly old teddies to strange unidentifiable bits of plastic that had dropped off various toys, had a guy in to do a kitchen worktop repair, washed dishes, washed clothes, and tried to control my extremely badly-behaved son....phew!), I feel like my head is about to explode!!
Tomorrow The Swede arrives (from Sweden, funnily enough), and I shall have to prepare him for the disaster zone that my place is, on the airport bus home. We have family coming up at the weekend from England to help take furniture away, and also I have kept stacks of things I think they might be interested in, so all that stuff is sitting around in bags also. Only because it's worth money, or useful to children in the family, or I would have been brutal and binned the lot.
To top it all off, we have seen some horrible creepy crawlies in the flat lately-mostly in my son's room. We have noticed little brown caterpillar-like things crawling along the bedroom carpet, and I know from experience in my previous flat (which also had old crapets) * just noticed I had a typo there, but am leaving it, because "crapets" is a much better wordfor them, that these are carpet beetle larvae. Lovely!! Oh it's going to be sooooo pleasant to clean this place when it's finally emptied, around Sunday-ish.
I'm making a mental note that I also need to remember to pay the lady from whom I have ordered some gorgeous cup-cakes for our family party (yes folks, as if it wasn't all enough, I'm hosting a champagne & canapes (and cupcakes!!) party for my family on Sunday. Which will be preceded by a cinema/pizza sleepover for my son and his friends the night before).
I must need my bloody head read.

Love thy neighbour.....

2010-04-09T02:53:00.000-07:00

So I thought I would write a little about the ahem, "eclectic" assortment of people who I share the block of flats that I live in with.

Here goes: At number 8, we have a scruffy young couple who seem to think it's fun to slam the (broken) entrance doors at all hours. Oh, and let their dogs crap and pee in the stairwell too. That's when they're not at home all day by themselves, whining miserably (the dogs, not the couple). I only recently found out that the male plays rugby for Scotland, when he knocked on my door to tell me that his mad girlfriend had sold a story about him to the newspapers, & it was all rubbish. I'd like to know which of the Scotland teams he plays for, as I can't find him online anywhere. God help Scotland, if he has so little savvy he can't even consider his neighbours, that's what I say! Oh, and the mad girlfriend is back. Grrrr!!

On the same landing as that pair, we have a similar couple of annoying young people. He seems Scottish & she I think, is Spanish. Not an immediate cause of any problems you might think, but it turns out that she is even worse than her neighbour, as she likes to come home at 3am, shouting and laughing in Spanish, with no regard whatsoever for the fact that people are sleeping, and indeed I have a child to get up for school just 4 hours later. One night I got so fed up, I jumped out of bed, hurriedly unlocked the front door, and shouted up the stairwell to whichever gobshite it was to shut the f**k up. This surprisingly, drew a "F****** bitch!!" as opposed to a "Oops, sorry, we didn't realise how loud we were being!!" (which was what any decent person would have said). It was only a few weeks later when I was chatting to her boyfriend (who seems amiable enough, oddly) that I mentioned this incident, and by the look on his face, I realised it was HIS girlfriend. Well tough luck, matey!
Oh, this couple like to have noisy parties, NOT tell their guests about the broken entrance door, and then leave bottles outside their door for months at a time, also. (As well as seeming to run some kind of halfway house for various European nationalities. Don't know what that's all about! All I know is that the number of people who trot up their stairs with suitcases, gabbling away in various languages, must have their place stuffed to capacity).

Down to number 6 (under the manky dog people). This is actually the flat that I used to live in, before I found this nicer one in the same stair (couldn't be arsed to move far, and the neighbours weren't as bad then!). This is now let out to a bunch of Indian boys, who, after much griping from me, are now, on the whole, quiet little mice when they come in from their night-shifts. Groovy. One sorted, loads to go.

Across the landing from them are a bunch of Indian girls, who regularly get visits from an extremely noisy friend of theirs, who likes to leave at 4am and slam the doors on his way out (despite being shouted at). I recognised him as a person that gets on the bus every morning, when we're on the way to school, shouting constantly into his phone.
The indian girls seem nice enough, however they are clearly part of the Riverdance troup, judging by how they like to run up and down their flat and do the stomp, the second I turn my lights off to go to sleep.

Ok, now we're onto flat 5. The two cousins from Warrington. They like to come home completely rat-arsed, and try to smash their door down when they find they've locked themselves out (before failing, and passing out in the stair outside my front door for the rest of the night). Enough said about them. One of them had a black eye the other week, can't say I'm surprised.

The lady who lives at flat 3 with her son, is a perfect neighbour, can't say a bad word about her ;-)

Flat 2 contains a nice older lady who has been there even before 2001 when My Son & I moved into flat 6. She's very friendly and nice to talk to (she's quite posh), but if you happen to be in the stairwell when she opens her front door, you'd think she ran a cigarette factory. She must have a hell of a habit.

Last but not least, we have the 2 ladies who share flat 1 (underneath moi). They play rugby, and have a strange penchant for blasting Bon Jovi and Abba out at 2pm in the afternoon. Hey, whatever floats your boat. Still, would be nice to be able to actually hear my tv.....

So there you have it-a strange assortment of freaks, rude, unhygienic party animals, and a nice little genteel lady who seems to smoke a hundred a day.

Just under 3 months til my escape to Sweden...and breathe........

My parents and Starbucks..

2010-03-21T11:15:00.000-07:00

There is something quite stressful about taking your parents to Starbucks. Allow me to explain. For several weeks now, myself & My Son have been back from Scandinavia, and as we are back in the normal swing of things, that includes My Son's usual Saturday guitar class.

This Saturday was different. He was taking part in a concert, along with hundreds of other children, playing different instruments. We dropped him off for rehearsals at the venue beforehand, and strolled along to the nearest coffee shop, which just happened to be a Starbucks. Actually, that the nearest coffee shop was going to be a Starbucks was pretty much a certainty, as we were in a very upmarket part of town.

So in we go. My mother, being in the biggest chain of coffee shops in the world....tells me to order her a cup of tea. Ok, fine, I do that, even if I'm cringing ever so slightly as I do so. Luckily, they have a stock of teabags ready for such occasions as Mad Mothers coming in.

Then we sit down. I can't really describe how awkward my parents look, sitting on a couple of stools at the window bench, which is usually full of 30-something Tarquins in stripy scarves, tapping away on laptops. But they are the only seats free, because Pippa & Bunny & their assortment of all-terrain, 3-wheeler Bugaboo strollers are already hogging the comfy chairs (along with, I should add, their assorted offspring, all clad in stripy jumpers & coloured corduroy jeans, and bearing pretentious names like Ruaraidh & Clement).

As I bring the tray of two coffees & one tea over (plus 3 gorgeous cocoa-y biscuits with a rich chocolate filling in them as a treat for us all), I tell my mother that the milk & sugar and all the little fiddly bits are at the little counter just behind us. So up she gets, and there cometh the second faux pas, folks-she brings the milk over to our seats & "plays mother", while behind us stand a line of folks looking daggers at her for stealing the milk while they all have to stand there like fools.

Then come the biscuits-the lovely cocoa-y biscuits were not to be, sadly. My mother took one look, and decided it would go into her handbag to be given to My Son. I don't know whether it was the fact that she is trying to lose some weight, or whether she was terrified at the thought of eating a biscuit which was 75p, & simply couldn't justify it-so she didn't. Grr.
My father did the same-all the while complaining at "what a rip-0ff these places are".

Anyway, trauma over, I and my mother went to the nearest card shop to get a "well-done" card for My Son, in anticipation of a successful concert, and then we proceeded to the concert hall.

I am happy to report that My Son was a star, and did us all proud!! But please God.....next time he plays a concert....let it be near a McDonalds....or it isn't going to be good for my blood pressure.

I'm an alien.....I'm a legal alien...

2010-02-17T02:22:00.000-08:00

Hej hej from Sweden!! Sorry it's been a long time coming, folks, but I have been busy busy up here in Norrbotten, and to be honest, completely forgot all about updating the blog (I know, never a wise move when you run a blog...I mean what's the point if you type nowt? DOH).
So we're basking in a balmy minus 17.8 degree centigrade at the moment, and the last thing The Swede said to me before he left for work this morning, was that it was currently very cold (minus 22 at that point), and that he would advise me & My Son to stay in today.
Damn. I have been very much enjoying exploring what will be our new home town in just a few short months. My Son and I have got all the important stuff sorted first-e.g the best burger joint for him (Max or Tasty Burger), and the best supermarket for Mum (aka me), so that we shall never run out of potato bread or semlor (when semlor are in season, that is).
For those of you who have never heard of semlor, it's a quite delicious confection, made from hollowing out a cardamom flavoured bun, and refilling it with almond paste, and whipped cream. Then the top is put back on. MM-mm!!! sadly, they're a limited edition kind of thing, and will be disappearing soon, but at least I tried them and can look forward to the same time next year :-D.
Tonight The Swede & I are going out for a belated Valentines dinner. I hate doing that on Valentines night itself, as it feels kind of artificial, all those couples crammed in together, with their special heart-shaped menu blah blah blah. Much better to wait a couple of days and go out for a good steak without all the bullshit, I reckon.
Swedes are in love with steaks, burgers, hot dogs, and basically all kinds of meat. I reckon life would be pretty tough for a veggie here! I've never been one to eat loads of meat (couldn't afford it anyway), but I have been shocked to see what kinds of meat are on the menu at times.
Take the argument which The Swede and I had last night because he had a horse meat sandwich for supper (bleurgh!!!). I went round the kitchen, paranoid that there were bits of it left over that I would somehow touch (I do the dishes when he's at work), and we ended up "having words" over it. I suppose I was a bit anal, but seriously...horse meat? I thought it was only The French that ate that stuff, and everyone EXPECTS them to do it! But not The Swedes!! Anyway, suffice to say, we've drawn a line under it now, and the wretched stuff has been confined to the freezer, to come out presumably on february 25th, after My Son and I have flown home. Yum!!

Help...I'm turning into my mother...

2010-01-21T03:16:00.000-08:00

Ever since the New Year, I have had a niggling feeling that the slow morphing process that would turn me into a proper middle-aged person, was beginning. It's quite a worry. Here is the evidence:

1/ Instead of litre upon litre of diet coke, my usual drink is now a cup of tea (I was never a tea-drinker).

2/ It's now a good thing to put my pyjamas on at 5pm.

3/ I frequently go to bed the same time as, or shortly after, my 10 year old son.

4/ I plan our meals days, sometimes weeks, in advance, and have a list stored on my mobile phone. I originally started doing it as a money-saving exercise, so that I could run thru what we already had in the cupboards in my head and plan meals to suit, instead of shopping aimlessly and wasting lots of cash. However, we've not been that badly off for money lately, & I'm still doing it...

5/ I don't have a clue who or what music is in the charts right now. When did I stop listening to the radio?

6/ I'm obsessed with checking the Sky news website every 5 minutes.

7/ I use coupons in the supermarket. I never used to give a s**t about coupons!

8/ I vacuum every day.

9/ Sadly, I'm attending more funerals.

10/ My son considers me an embarrassment.

So what do you think, people? Am I a proper mumsy-type now, or do you think there's any hope of pulling it back, and making myself appear a cool yummy mummy?

Happy New Year

2010-01-13T13:19:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year, everyone! Sorry for not blogging before now, but it's been a whirlwind here, the past few weeks, as The Swede was visiting, and of course, the fact that he doesn't know about the blog (nor indeed, does anybody else, except yourselves...shhhh), kind of hampered the whole writing thing!!
Well anyway, now he's gone, having returned to that extremely cold country which will soon be our joint home, along with several useful/less gifts from myself & my family, not least the Top Gear dvd & chocolate truffles (Personally, I think they're good gifts!).
It feels a bit odd, not having him here, as he was here for a whole two weeks, which I think is the longest time he has ever been here for. Having said that, it will also be lovely to occasionally forego the evening shower so I can get to bed earlier, and indeed, I no longer have to wear the awful gum guard thing my dentist made me, when I told him that I am, apparently, a teeth-grinder, so The Swede can get a good sleep! (Sexy, huh?). Now I just need The Swede to sort his snoring problem, & maybe the two of us will get a good night's sleep in future (as opposed to just him).
So how was everyone's Christmas? Mine was as expected, as per the last post. There was a Grand Explosion from my brother on the 25th, during which he broke down crying & my dad (who isn't the emotional sort) had to give him a cuddle & a pep talk. We all consumed lots of unhealthy cold food (again, see last post). Having said that, my Christmas dinner was really lovely. I completely cleared my plate, which must have been a first.
We didn't go out at all, because of the crappy weather (horrendously icy) and lack of road gritting by the council, except for a quick trip to a shopping centre in Washington, Tyne & Wear, that me & My Mum went to, to exchange something. This place is known as The Galleries, and is so crap, it's worth Googling, for a laugh (I don't know how to add a clickable link). Put it this way-it's the sort of place where people look at you funny if you aren't wearing a football shirt, massive gold hoop earrings, and smoking like a chimney (all over your child). Needless to say, it was a case of in and out.
Think I'm gonna head to bed now-have had a very boring evening of cooking, helping My Son with his homework (and coping with some horrendous behaviour from him, too), and getting interrupted every 5 minutes by one of my young neighbours, who, having discovered there was something wrong with his door lock, kept knocking to ask me if he could borrow everything from de-icer (I don't have a car, therefore no need for de-icer, sorry) to coathangers to try & pick the lock (had to be a certain style, mind), to storing his shopping in my freezer, until he could get into his place & put it in his own. Of course, I had a peek in case he bought anything exciting-but it was frozen fish, peas, and sausages. Disappointing, to say the least. Never mind. Maybe next time it will be southern fried chicken or Carte D'Or ice-cream. Would be a shame if THAT went missing!! :-D
Night night.

..Tis the season to be jolly...

2009-12-24T08:25:00.000-08:00

So we're here at my parents' house here in Northeast England. Present for the holidays are myself and My Son, my parents, my brother, and my sister & her husband and two kids will be joining us tomorrow.
Already my Dad is in a frenzy, cooking everything in sight to within an inch of it's life-whether it needs it or not. When I heard my Mum ask him why he was cooking so much stuff, he was heard to reply that it would save time tomorrow, as they will have enough to do already. So, I guess nobody should expect anything hot to eat round here tomorrow! It seems the concept of just cooking things e.g quiches just before they are due to be eaten, has completely passed him by......oh well...
Already my dear family have been embroiled in several arguments, in that good old Christmas tradition of family bitching. My Son has been berated for spending too much time on his games console, I've been called "She" too many times for my liking, and my depressive brother has been told to "liven up" on several occasions. Also, when questioning why my parents constantly leave the curtains to the room in the house with the most electronic finery, open for all the world to see in (including burglars), my Dad ripped my head off (in the verbal sense, obviously, or I wouldn't be blogging now) Which leads me to a conclusion-OLD PEOPLE ARE NUTS!!
Never mind the -30 temperatures in Northern Scandinavia right now, come next Christmas, I'll be rejoicing in it!!!
For now, though, I have to sit tight and hack it as best I can....
Now where's that chocolate?

If I had a photograph of you.....

2009-11-29T08:16:00.000-08:00

...Anyone remember that song from the eighties? I THINK it was by Flock of Seagulls, who were fronted by that bloke with the ridiculous haircut (look 'em up on Youtube, you'll see what I mean).
Anyway, I'm online, trying to negotiate my way thru the minefield that is choosing a camera for my son's 10th birthday on the 11th of December. After successfully persuading him away from a polaroid camera (I THINK so, anyway!! Have you seen the cost of the films?????), and onto a digital camera (maybe with a printer), I've spent many boring hours (well, it feels like that) looking, and I am now totally and utterly confused! My dad, being the techno-geek of our family, has been asked to help, and keeps emailing me suggestions of various cameras, with varying degress of fabulousness. But it doesn't help when deciding on which one to spend my money on, as I haven't got a clue what most of the jargon means, I'm afraid! Unlike a lot of people, a camera is one of those "big" purchases for me of little means, so I'm also afraid of making a mistake.
A-ha! I thought....let's look at Which.com. However, it seems that even good ol' Which have got in on the "sign up here to see our full reviews" business, so that's no good either. Hmm, what to do?Think I might have to let Grandad do the deciding, on the basis that if anything hideous goes wrong, it's his fault, cos he chose it :-D
I'm sure it will be sorted in time!
Time is a thing which has been stressing me out lately, actually. There's so little of it towards the end of the year, what with the fact that most of my family seem to have been born in December (including my brother and sister, who are twins. How inconsiderate of them to be two months premature, back in '72), and My Son & The Swede, to name another two!
This is the main reason why I haven't posted much recently, as I've been full of busy, creating Xmas and birthday lists for many people, and trying to be extremely strict with my budget, so I can afford it all. How I used to be able to fit in a full-time job, will never cease to amaze me. I truly was working myself into the ground back then.
I also need to think about the following things:

Try and decide (and get prices) on a carrier to shift all of our worldly goods next summer. I'm very suspicious of the fact that none of these people give prices on their websites. All I want is to find out how much it costs per tea-chest sized box, surely that isn't too hard? So anybody with any recommendations, please fire away. I'd be very grateful!

I need to remember to give my landlord two months' notice at the appropriate time. I'm concerned that they seem to have this thing about leases starting and finishing on the 1st of the month. This could be impossible for us, as My Son doesn't finish his current school year until the 1st of July, so it's likely we would need a few extra days.

I also need to prepare for the fact that my crazy ex-flatmate (who I happen to owe some money to) might drive down the street or check the landlord's website during my 2 months' notice period, see that we're moving, and start harassing me again. To cut a long story short, I found my best friend of 11 years a flat in the same block as me, when she was looking to stay in Edinburgh for the new job she got last summer, and after a few months, it became too financially hard for her. I was also finding it tough managing, and so because we had flat-shared before, we decided that myself and My Son would move in with her and her daughter, and I would take over the lease to help alleviate her financial problems (they were slightly worse than mine). Her flat was also much nicer. The idea was that we would save a lot of money on bills. We came to an agreement whereby the deposit she paid would transfer into my name, and I would pay this off with her month by month until she eventually moved out. However, it quickly became clear after moving in, that she had developed extremely severe emotional, anger, and mental issues. This would result in her regularly screaming and shouting at me and threatening to beat me up because say for instance, she thought I had borrowed a hair product of hers (I hadn't), and she terrified My Son so much that he wouldn't get out of bed one day. I said to him "Why won't you get up?" and his reply was "I'm not coming out til auntie X has stopped shouting". That did it for me. There was also the matter of the fact that a great friend of hers was, charmingly, a drug-addict. I rest my case. I wasn't fond of getting up in the night and finding her junkie friend raiding my food out of the fridge on a binge, or come-down, or whatever they call it.
Hence she was ejected from the flat when the landlords "found out" she was there, however, she naturally blamed me, and got violent, and I now have the dubious honour of knowing some of the police I had to call numerous times (when I was about to get my head kicked in) by their first names.

Phew. Sorry about that. I knew I had to tell that story one day, but 6 months on, it still hurts like hell. Not only what we went through, but also the fact that I lost the best friend I ever had, because she turned into an absolute nutter. I've actually been incredibly lonely since then, as this person was like a sister to me, and believe it or not, we had some brilliant times over the years. I hope I don't sound harsh, but we quickly became so terrified of her, that standing by her, really wasn't an option, and we had to cut her loose. I stand by the fact that she had to go, but, being a good person by nature, I still feel bad about the fact that she had to be chucked out forcibly by the landlord. Naturally, she has tried to harass me since, as she (wrongly) assumes I don't intend to pay her back (I've made it plain she will get what she is owed), and so I'm terrified of what might happen once I give notice on the flat. If she is keeping tabs on things, she will no doubt start her harassment campaign again (for example, bringing the junkie round to shout at me via my door buzzer).

And what job does this person do, I hear you ask? Well, I'm afraid that I'm about to scare the hell out of you by revealing she is a teacher!

Yes, it seems that crazy people do actually fall through the net, and get into the system. I wonder every day what her employers would think if they had heard some of the rants she did in the house, calling the poor kids in her class "thick p*** b*******".

Anyway, moving on, as you'll be getting bored now. Where was I? Oh yeah, things to do, number 3:

Buy NOTHING this week (food? Pah! We can manage on what's in the freezer), and then I can afford to book the tenpin bowling that my son wants to go to with his friends for a birthday treat.
I also need to buy food on the day of the birthday, for the various guests that are coming.

Last but not least, I'm actually get a bit scared and anxious about our move. I think I've mentioned in a previous post, that it's just such a huge thing. We definitely want to go to Sweden to live with The Swede, but I hate moving at the best of times (The last time was bad enough, & I was moving within the same block), but an international move, well, that's a biggie!

My little monster...

2009-11-17T12:20:00.000-08:00

Well, My Son is still behaving badly on a regular basis, and since I broke the news that we are moving to Sweden, it seems this behaviour has come more often. I have talked to him at great length about how everyone needs to move on in their lives, and change does happen (no-one's life ever stays the same all the way through), but I have also tried to reiterate that although it might seem scary, this change is actually going to be for our good and for the future of our family.
Don't get me wrong-he's not against it, I don't think. At times he is extremely positive about it. However, at others, he "hates me", "hates The Swede", and "everybody is an idiot" kind of thing.
I feel like I am living on a knife-edge, just waiting for the day when he does something so horrendous at school that there is no going back.
Today at school, he was kept in at break-time because he fought with one kid, and called him gay. This led to a mortifying discussion with one of the senior members of staff, during which I desperately tried to stress that I promote equality at all times...I am sure you know the kind of cringe-worthy discussion I am talking about. However, his behaviour then apparently improved in the afternoon.
Tonight he was sent to bed after calling me horrible names. However, ten minutes later, what do you know...the apology note came out from under his bedroom door, professing his undying love for me etc etc. My Son is so damned sweet at moments like that...aargh....it drives me mad, this constant switching of behaviours, and all the associated worry. You'd think from reading some of this that he was a little devil, complete with horns, but nothing could be further from the truth if you look at the pic.....
Sigh. Well I'm off to watch "I'm a celebrity, get me out of here!" to cheer myself up...if I can stay awake that long, that is!

"If I ruled the world"...by My Son

2009-11-04T08:33:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone, and apologies for not blogging for well over a week, but nothing of note has really happened...until today...

My Son and I often have deep and interesting conversations on the mind (and leg)-numbing walk to school each day. Today, out of nowhere, he decided to tell me how he would put the world to rights, should he be in charge. It was one of those occasions when you really wish you had a pen & paper handy, because what your child said was so profound or funny (or both). So don't expect me to remember all of his nuggets of wisdom, but here goes with the ones I can remember, anyway. Oh by the way, I definitely think My Son comes from the Jeremy Clarkson school of blunt speaking!!

If I ruled the world.....

Prisoners would have satellite tv and playstations removed from prisons, and instead would have a bare cell with only a chair and a hard bench to sleep on.

People who let their dogs crap all over the pavement would get an automatic 10 day jail sentence.

Racism would be punishable by a 10 year jail sentence.

Workmen would be prevented from leaving big messes like roads half-dug up for weeks, with nothing noticeable happening to them.

He would invent a solar-powered water system which would water the crops and give people enough drinking water in hot African countries.

If someone in one of these countries died, we would remove their family to a better country and help them start a new life.

Solve world pollution. How, he isn't currently sure.

We should remove all of our soldiers from Afghanistan.

Then drop a big bomb on Afghanistan.

Ditto Iraq.

All households would be given £10 per week "to help with their shopping and bills". (When I questioned whether this would be enough, he kindly upped it to £20).

I have asked my son to remind me of what else he thought of this morning, but we can't think of any more for now. I like (at the same time as I don't like), how childhood innocence about solving world poverty and pollution is mixed with things like removing our troops from Afghanistan and Iraq. Definitely very thought-provoking. Especially from a 9 year old.....

....has been dropped

2009-10-26T04:59:00.000-07:00

So my parents arrived early...grr. I don't know about you, but personally I think there's nothing more annoying than visitors arriving early-especially when you have kids. I vividly remember when my son was a baby, people would think nothing of just ruddy turning up 20 minutes before they said they would, when I was trying to squeeze in a quick breastfeed before they came...aargh.
Though clearly that wasn't the situation this time, it's still irritating, as we were only halfway through the chocolate cookies I mentioned in my previous post. So much for the warm Mary Berry atmosphere!
Anyway, we decided after a quick lunch (and finishing the cookies) that we would take my son to a kids' adventure play place-you know, these places with the slides and ball pools etc etc. This one was quite good, and contrary to what it sounded, more than suitable for my soon to be 10 year old-he had a blast. I did notice every kid was running around & sweating so much that their hair was wet.....ewww.....lol.
My stomach was churning pretty much all afternoon-not only with the thought of telling my parents our news, but also with the fact that they never brought me up that well-so I have to say, I really detest sharing news of any importance with them. What does it have to do with them?? Were they interested in how well I might do in life or how bad things would affect me, when they were arguing nonstop when we were kids? No. Was my father interested in my wellbeing when I had to barricade my bedroom door to stop him storming up the stairs to beat me up? No. So really, I tell them the bare minimum (Bitter? Me? Nah!!).
We left the play centre, and went back to my flat, where, after a bit longer, I told them that The Swede wanted us to go live in Sweden with him.
I have to say they were quite pleased for us, and at the chance of us both having a better quality of life over there. My dad said he had always wondered how I managed as a single parent up here on my own, & this was really exciting news. So yes, this post is quite schizophrenic, really. On one hand, they made masses of mistakes when we were kids, & were too quick to smack us, and on the other, they were clearly thrilled at our news. Go figure that one out.....
So news over, the atmosphere was a bit lighter, and we spent most of the rest of the evening chatting about various things such as jobs over in sweden, how I am going to transport all our belongings over there, what to throw out, budget airline flights for them to visit their Grandson etc etc...and we topped it off with a chinese takeaway.
One thing that was prevalent over the weekend was My Son's bad behaviour. I think he is worried about the move-indeed I wouldn't blame him for being so-it must be scary. His behaviour is showing itself in really violent ways, such as him hitting me, or shouting at me & calling me names (or throwing my mobile phone across the room). I have tried to talk to him calmly and explain that although it seems scary, what we are doing, he must try & trust Mummy, because it will work out for the better in the long run. The higher quality of life over there, the fact that he will have a father figure for the first time ever, and lots of other things.
I am also going to enlist the help of his headmistress at his current school in making the transition a bit easier for him. She is really lovely.We're not going til after the school year ends next summer, but I still think there will be tears (from me too!!).
I've also joined a network for English-speaking mums in Sweden, & the advice on there is proving quite useful, what forms I need to fill in when I get there, etc etc.
It's all go :-)

The bombshell.....

2009-10-22T11:18:00.000-07:00

I'm preparing for my parents coming up, when I am going to tell them about The Swede & I moving in together. I am quite nervous about it, but I hope they will be happy for me. Let's face it, it took me 40 years to find someone worth making a life with, so I hope they will take that into account.
Of course, they are bound to be worried about the reduced frequency of contact with My Son. However, The Swede has reassured me that we can go "home" to England for long holidays etc, so hopefully their total time spent with My Son in a year will not diminish.
It's weird, but I feel almost like a naughty school girl, admitting I have been doing rude things with a man or something. I guess it's because I'm a very private person, as regards my family-I tell them the bare minimum, always have done, and if I don't have to tell them about a situation at all....then great! Never had the best of childhoods (more about that another day), & so I feel most of the time that they don't deserve a piece of me, I suppose. Hard to explain!
Onto happier things-My Son and I have decided to bake some delicious chocolate cookies from the November issue of "Delicious" magazine, for them coming. It's soooo long since we did anything like that, I can't even remember, but hopefully by the time they arrive, we will be sitting pretty, with a perfect house, and a warm and rosy atmosphere, touched by the fabulous aroma that only fresh cookies can bring (A La Mary Berry).
Wish us luck!

Taking the p***

2009-10-15T13:21:00.000-07:00

I am trying to write a blog post while my son stands in the bathroom, complaining that "I need ANOTHER pee!!". Aargh. Poor thing has had a course of antibiotics recently for a suspected urine infection, however, the test results came back negative, so now I'm worried about what could be wrong instead. Hmm. Must try not to worry & chill out more, according to what my son's teacher said at parents' evening last night.
Anyway, onto the "news" that I mentioned in my last post. Yes, The Swede & I finally took the plunge, by jointly deciding that me & My Son are going to move to Sweden to be with him. WOW. It looks scary in print...lol.
Although I am naturally apprehensive about moving so far (there'd be something wrong if I wasn't, I figure), I am also keen to "get going" with our plan. Lately, there are more & more things which reinforce just what a rough & nasty country I am presently living in. Everything from the boy who has decided to cause trouble for My Son in class by making up stories about supposedly vicious things My Son has done, & getting me into a tizz, then according to the school staff, it's all been bull****, & he was in fact perfectly behaved on those occasions. (There's nothing more demoralising for me than worrying because my child has behavioural issues anyway, without some evil little toad stirring it by making things up!!). To the scene I saw when walking home with some shopping along the local main road today.
Picture this: A woman of about 25yrs old, a "man" of about 18 years old, a child who was clearly old enough to be in school.All standing on the street, scruffily dressed, stuffing their faces with crap & puffing on cigarettes (apart from the child, amazingly enough). The poor boy was crying his eyes out, while the mother screamed at the top of her lungs that it was a "Bad idea to keep him off school because he's a f****** whinging b******". Or something akin to that-it was hard to tell exactly, because the force & speed with which she was screaming actually made it hard to distinguish the words. The "F" & "B" were definitely there though. Meanwhile, "Dad" stood there tutting, & giving the son disparaging looks.
I desperately looked around for the local policeman I often see on his beat round there (Where are they when you need them?). Alas, he was nowhere to be found. I made an on-the-spot judgement to walk away, only for fear that I would get punched in the face (or stabbed) if I challenged the "parents" & told them what a disgrace to humanity they were. God, I felt terrible though, that poor child, & I couldn't do anything for him.
Later, after taking My Son to his Thursday night club, I actually saw the woman & child in the street again. No screaming of abuse this time, but they were stuffing their faces with crap again. Now I can't claim to have always been the healthiest eater, but I wouldn't dream of feeding my child several pasties & more than one bottle of fizzy pop a day.
Or am I just a snob?
Anyway, these two delightful episodes (the viciousness of that horrible brat at school, & the vile mum in the street) have just about made my mind up. And you know what?
I won't miss Britain.

Going...Going...Gone.

2009-10-11T08:19:00.000-07:00

Here I am, sitting at my pc in my pjs, at 16.20 (Yes, I'm doing time the Euro way now-I'm soooo cosmopolitan). There is a good reason for this, though. Today I (and my son) got up at 05.00 so we could take The Swede back to the airport. Boy, I am zonked! I've never been a fan of early starts, & after training My Son far too well (he gives me a good lie-in at the weekends, but unfortunately can't get up Monday to Friday..Oops), figured today might be trouble.However, he finally crawled out of bed, poor little soul, and staggered into the lounge, & up to the table for some breakfast. I, meanwhile, was blearily making a pot of coffee (a must for any Scandinavian, in fact I think it's law that they must all drink copious amounts of black coffee), and some polarbrod/cheese/ham etc for breakie. Never let it be said that I didn't feed my man before seeing him off on the big metal bird!

Anyway, after seeing him off at security, and crying a bit in front of various members of airport staff (who had clearly seen it all before), My Son & I made our lonely way back into Edinburgh, then got off the airport bus for the 15 minute walk home (30 if you allow for the fact that a vulnerably tired mummy stopped off at the shop for chocolate, newspaper & cokes, and was also badgered into sweeties (& bought all of them), then got almost home & remembered she never got toilet roll which we had run out of, & had to go back). After we got home, I put My Son to bed, did the various crappy household tasks that I couldn't go back to bed without doing (or it would irritate me), then went to take my little Sleeping Beauty a luxury Galaxy chocolate drink that I had bought him, and discovered that the damn thing was a whole TWO MONTHS out of date, so had to be returned. Grrr. Eventually, I got to bed for a sleep (if only you could charge your body with a few hours when you need it, a bit like topping up a phone, wouldn't that be great?), accompanied by the raging headache that had developed from the shock of getting up early.

After being interrupted by My Son a thousand or so times, with everything from "I can't sleep" to "I'm going to play you to sleep with my guitar, Mum", I admitted defeat where he was concerned, & allowedhim to get up again. I'm kinda hoping he will therefore go to bed like a little lamb tonight if he never got any more sleep this morning, so wish me luck!!

As for myself, I eventually got about another hour & a half, but I still have the damned headache, so am going to make dinner shortly, to see if that makes things better.

I will write more next time about the news that The Swede & I broke to My Son, but am off for now, as I need to eat. See you soon!

2009-10-07T11:45:00.001-07:00

So The Swede flew into the UK last week, & broke his journey at Heathrow, so that we could meet down there for my Uncle's funeral. The preceding journey down to the Northeast for myself & my son was a fairly uneventful train journey (apart from sitting like fools for half an hour outside of Newcastle, due to signalling problems), and then the next day we set off in my sister's humongous car to collect The Swede & then proceed to the fantastically cheap & cheerful hotel that I (being the family bargain hunter) had found us all in Kent.
Oh My Lord. As soon as the receptionist handed us room keys (as opposed to swipe cards), we knew we were in trouble. However, the horror that awaited us was so bad it was hard to describe.
Altogether, our party (My mum, dad, sister, son, & The Swede & myself) suffered (deep breath):
Hairs in the bed
Hairs in the bath (different colours)
Somebody's hair band casually tossed on the floor-together with what looked like half a scalp full of their hair
Shabby, peeling paintwork
Cobwebs
Spiders!
Yellow stained towels (unfortunately I only discovered this AFTER I had dried my face on one of them)
Shower curtain poles so rusty & corroded they could have fallen down at any time
A bed with a horrendous case of "roll-together" in the middle
The drawers in our room smelt of fish
My sister's room stank of cat pee

...and I'm sure there were others....Oh Jeez.....did I get it in the neck from the rest of the family for picking that one! I have to hand it to the Medway M2 Travelodge tho-they actually managed to achieve the nigh impossible feat of making me think that a mere £35 for one room for one night was too much!!

Anyway, by Friday morning we were suitably soberly dressed & out of the hell-hole, & proceeded to my auntie's house for coffee before the funeral. I thought I was doing ok, composure-wise, however, when I took a look at a photo of my auntie & uncle taken on their 55th wedding anniversary this June, I couldn't speak, & the tears came. It was just too much...my auntie gazing adoringly into the vacant eyes of the shell of a person that my uncle used to be before Alzheimers pulled him under. Bless him, he didn't even know why he was there cuddling this to all intents & purposes, "stranger". Somehow, we all got thru the day, though I had to force my mind elsewhere when all of us famiy members were standing outside the church waiting for the coffin, & then he arrived, and my auntie walked in behind him with her son & daughter (my cousins). Huge gulp.
As for what my auntie wrote on the flowers from her, that is of course, private, but I just hope that I come close someday to the love & companionship that they had for so long.

Onto happier times. Yesterday was my 40th birthday (However I am still in denial & pretending that it's happened to someone else!), & The Swede took me & my son out for dinner at my favourite restaurant. We had an absolutely sublime meal, & a very happy evening indeed. My son also behaved perfectly-well, apart froma few, largely accidental, burps because of the two cokes he guzzled. Earlier in the day, I received a birthday card & a cheque from my auntie, which was a nice surprise, because God knows I wouldn't have expected a card this year after what had just happened, tho when I saw only her signature on the card, & realised how strange it must have been for her to write only her name for the first time, I had a few sad moments too. But it was hugely appreciated, & I bought a nice thank you card today which I am going to write a letter to her in tomorrow. What a brave, lovely lady.
Sometimes I am awfully sad that I don't see huge portions of my family for so long. I am going to make much more effort to keep in touch with my family in future.

2009-10-05T11:41:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here wrapped in a towel, contemplating my last day as a 39 year old. In just a few short hours, I will be joining the over 40 club! I was looking back today at what I always wanted to achieve by the age of 40. Firstly, I wanted to be debt-free, as I truly wanted my life with no financial restrictions to begin. I haven't made it-I'm still up to my ears in debt. Secondly, I wanted to be a glamorous, sylph-like Liz Hurley type. I haven't made that either. I'm more like a chunkier version of that actress that used to be in the comedy series Men behaving badly, with Neil Morrissey & Martin Clunes. She played a nurse...you know..that one!! (Damn, what's her name?).
Anyway, I was bemoaning my failures to The Swede the other day, complaining that I felt like an elephant.....and he replied "But you're my elephant".
I guess he was trying to be sweet, but somehow, that didn't work for me!!
I'm off now to vegetate in front of the tv & drown my sorrows with a doughnut & said Swede (No, I didn't kill him). Oh, and if anyone can remind me of the name of that darned actress, it will save my sanity. Thanks!

2009-09-30T04:05:00.000-07:00

Shock horror.....I actually forgot to post yesterday! I guess I've been so busy with preparations for The Swede's visit, & for our trip down South to attend my uncle's funeral, that it just slipped my mind.
That's the thing when you live away from your family-every supposedly simple event that you all require to go to together, becomes this huge operation. No popping into DVF for a simple but sober black wrap dress to wear, then flying down the country in a smart British Airways jet, while sipping complimentary Kenco Fairtrade coffee all the way, for me. Oh No, I'm the kind of girl who runs through the "George" section at Asda in a blind panic, because I have to pick up my son in half an hour, it takes 25 mins to walk there, and as I have no bus fare, that's what I'm doing. Actually, the clothes section at my "boutique" of choice is surprisingly rubbish lately-has George Davies jumped ship, & I'm just the only one who doesn't know? Despite the fact that a crappy, drizzly October is fast looming on the horizon, I could not get a classic, long-sleeved polo neck jumper for love nor money! Some of the clothes were so horrifically garish looking, that I wondered if they were the Halloween dress-up costumes instead, & I was in the wrong section! Day-glo pink jumper-things, with big rips in them, Tweety-pie t-shirts.....I think I'm getting too old for this.
Anyway, after a hastily purchased pair of smart black trousers, (in a bigger size than normal,damn it) & a pair of black patent pumps, I found the jumper I was looking for at my other "shopping paradise"-Sainsburys, while my son was in his Explore learning session (he wants to quit there, but that's another story). So panic averted. The fact that everything there costs twice as much as the former, well, C'est la vie I suppose (otherwise known as Sod's Law). Then of course, there is the trip-flying? Ha! No, my son and I will be slumming it on a National Express Railways train, which will no doubt smell of pee-pee (depending on where we sit), and charge the equivalent of a small African nation's debt, for a warm can of coke. And that's after we have had the "pleasure" of chucking out whichever numbskulls have sat in our reserved seats.
I might not be on here as frequently as normal in the next few days, as I have the funeral trip, & then a few days up North/down South with my family (depending on your location), and of course The Swede will be accompanying myself & my son on our trip home where we'll have a week before he goes home. During which we will celebrate my upcoming "Big" birthday (put it this way-it's not 30).
See you soon.

2009-09-28T15:01:00.000-07:00

Tonight I am very very tired, after ploughing through that most hated of household tasks-ironing. Lord, if I could only afford to pay someone to do it, that would be grand! But sadly, since the days when I could afford to pay someone (and/or actually find someone I trusted enough to enter my home) are long gone, then the buck stops at me.
I have been working my way through various non-enjoyable household tasks today actually, in preparation for The Swede's visit. I always like to make sure the house looks as nice as possible for him coming, I think that's only polite, given the large distances and various stop overs which he has to endure to come over. He might travel for half a day to see me, but at least when he does, he will have a clean pillow to rest his head on :-) The worst tasks I did today, and tomorrow I have reserved for such joys as mopping the floors, shopping, & emptying the hoover!
Boy, am I living La Vida Loca or what?
What household tasks do other people hate doing most? I'd love your comments!

2009-09-27T04:28:00.000-07:00

I have woken up today feeling terribly guilty. Last night I ended up spending over 2 hours on Msn, chatting to Bad Relationship Man. (I only spent about half an hour talking to The Swede last night). Since we met in the flesh almost one year ago, it's been almost impossible to drag any feelings or opinions out of BRM, & that was why I made the decision to move on, even tho I was never really sure of what had happened. However, last night, the conversation took a turn, and at times was actually quite tender. I asked him if he could remember what some of our intimate moments had been like, and he replied saying Yes, and that "There were too few moments like that".
I've felt terrible ever since, as if I am betraying The Swede. I know he would be upset & worried if he knew I had had such conversation with BRM. But at the same time, BRM seems to be so screwed up generally (he has horrendously-low confidence and never believed me when I had said I loved him), that I know the chances that anything could have "properly" happened with him in the end, were remote anyway.
However, the fact that someone is a screw-up & things will never take off with them anyway, isn't really justification in to keep in touch with them (& possibly hurt your loving partner), if you were formerly involved...I know that.
Is it the fact that myself & BRM never had an ending? Is that why I can't seem to stop myself? I'm off to hide under the covers to ponder that question now.

2009-09-26T15:05:00.000-07:00

Took my son for his 1st guitar class today. It looked such fun that I decided I didn't mind the early morning after all! (Love my lie-ins on a Saturday & Sunday, but had to get up pretty early today for the class at 10am). At one point the teacher was playing the James Bond theme in a chatty bit of the class, & told us that the disused old school we were sitting in, was actually Sean Connery's school when he was a boy! Quite cool, I thought!
So my son has decided this whole guitar thing is really cool, and is full of enthusiasm about it. Long may it continue!
On a totally different subject, why is it that certain things and people always pop up to remind us of the past when things are going well in the present? The bad relationship I talk about sometimes....I haven't talked to The Man in ages...then lo and behold, here he is tonight on Msn. And like a moth to a flame...I'm straight in there to say Hello, & enquire how things are with him.
In my defence, he just lost his dad, and his mum is very sick also, and maybe I am just being too kind, but I can't stop myself caring how he is coping, even though he broke my heart into a million pieces. What worries me is that maybe I still have feelings for him underneath that veneer of asking how he is coping, because we never had an ending, & I to this day, don't know what went wrong.

On a lighter note, The Swede and I were texting and Msn'ing earlier (just so darned expensive to call each other, so we have to make do with other methods), and we have decided we need a game plan as far as The Big Move goes. I broached the subject of our conversation of the other day about it all, & I said that maybe we shouldmake a plan regarding when we are going to do certain things, as there's not just us to think about..there is the flat (which I have to give notice on), and of course we need to work out when would be best to take my son out of school. Especially given the problems he has had lately.It's all got to be handled pretty delicately. Some of the things we have thought of are these:

I need to get a personnummer (kind of a Swedish National Insurance number. Without it it is impossible to open a bank account, or get a job, or anything, basically).

We need to decide re the schooling issue & have meetings with my son's headmistress to see if she can assist.

We need to contact an international movers to see if we can actually afford for me to move all my stuff over there!! (I want my son to keep as many familiar things around him as possible, right down to the few bits of furniture we own in this furnished rented flat at present).

Umm, sure there are a few other things, but I'm so tired, I forget them right now. Time for bed, methinks.

2009-09-25T12:41:00.000-07:00

So, this week, The Swede was telling me that he was going to his cousin's for dinner tonight, and that she was bound to ask when we are moving in together, as indeed every one of his relatives asks him whenever they meet (even when I'm there!).
I jokily asked him what he was going to say, and then he came out with it....which was that his cousin & parents weren't the only people who think we should live together. Remembering that his sister is always on about it too, I said "Oh yeah, I forgot your sister". To which he replied "No, I didn't mean her....I meant me!!".
That was the first time he had actually come out and said it, and I was quite taken aback.Thinking that The Big Question might well be on the tip of his tongue turned me all coy. "Well, don't forget, I'm quite old-fashioned-you will have to ask me first" I typed back (we were actually on Msn).
To which he replied "I wasn't thinking straight away, we'd have to think about school arrangements etc etc". Don't quite know why, but that made me feel a little flat. Maybe it was my inner girlie, thinking my suitor might me about to Pop The Question?
Anyway, it's still a great result, & a very very positive thing for any partner to come out with. I know that we are both on the same wavelength regarding where we want things to go. I guess I'm quite often the impatient sort when I want something-especially something like this, when certain things actually have a timebar.
I am thinking, of course, about babies. My good friend (who happens to be The Swede's cousin) thinks that the time issue probably hasn't occurred to The Swede. However, I am, after all, almost hitting the big 4-0.
Don't know why I'm worrying really, as lots of older mums have babies these days without anything going wrong.....don't they??

2009-09-24T14:40:00.000-07:00

Having got sucked in to reading someone's really well-known blog a few weeks ago, I felt compelled to catch up with the whole 5 years of the thing, to get "bang up to date". With the result that having firstly resolved to get a nice early night tonight, I just couldn't resist reading " a bit more", and so here I am at 22.42, actually having finished reading the last posts. (So now I'm up to date, hurry up lady and write some more).
So do you mind if I take my bug-eyed self off to bed now, and write a decent post tomorrow instead? Aw, thanks. Knew you wouldn't.