Dear Grandma (Bunny)

It's come to my attention that this post about Dear Grandma Bunny by Dick Bruna ranks near the top of a google search. If you have come looking for bereavement information, try the Childrens' Bereavement Charity. They also have a review of this book here. God Bless.


We've been reading M'laddo Dick Bruna's Miffy books as his bedtime read recently. We got a boxed set from the book people for a paltry sum of earnings a while back and frankly I was getting bored of Thomas the Tank Engine stories.

Most of them are ace, he particularly likes Miffy at the Gallery. Wifey grabbed one for last nights story without really taking in the cover. Dear Grandma Bunny isn't really a suitable bedtime read you see.

The cover should have been a give away but the story inside that unfolds is a little more gruesome. Grandma Bunny lies cold, unbreathing and dead in her bed, probably fouling the sheets in her dying moments (the book is blessedly unclear on the last point but vivid on the rest). Grandma Bunny looks well and truly brown bread in her open casket but just to be sure they nail it shut and bury her.

I'm still unsure whether the subject matter is unsuitable for very little children or not. Very very little children have no concept of death and as they get a bit older do lack the baggage we hang upon it but even so, they have enough to worry about with pre-school, no lollipop without eating their broccoli first and little sisters puking madly to have to worry about the abstract of Grandma (Bunny) dying any time soon.

So Grandma Bunny has been placed aside from the rest of the Miffy books for the moment since we're primarily using them as a bedtime read rather than anything particularly thought provoking in an existential manner.

Finding the time

Wifey was busily unpicking some knitting last night at ten to ten- she'd drop a row or some other such technical thing that she did explain to me but I utterly failed to understand twice, so just pretended to on the 3rd attempt, lest the knitting needle become a weapon of retribution against me.

And I was busy utterly failing to read the latest book club book. I manfully struggled through The Piano Teacher last month, which came with a recommendation from Elle magazine on the cover (the SHAME!), so thought this months would be better. It's a detective story, which in theory should be more up my street but is proving troublesome. Maybe it's because I have to read it rather than because I want to. I'm perverse like that.

But maybe it was also because my concentration span is stuffed at the moment. I was up at 6am for a business breakfast- worth it in the end as I won two tickets to England/Egypt.

Wordless Wednesday- Facebook?

I *HEART* Our Dishwasher

Today I was the rather misnamed helping mummy at pre school. Apart from not having a uterus and being over a foot taller than any previous helper, I think I acquitted myself fairly well. At one point I had 5 children (only two known to me) clinging to my legs. I took this as a positive vote on my contribution.

The role of mummy helper involves rather a lot of washing up and this was a bit of a novelty because we got a dishwasher just before M'laddo was born. I'd never had truck with that kind of contraption before but it has changed my life. And for the better. Now days we see it as a drudge and a chore even unloading the thing, much less manually doing tonnes of washing up.

Back to pre school though and I was heartily scrubbing away at a sink that's apparently too low for actual helping mummys. As I've headed into my 30's, my hands get more and more chapped in the cold or when I'm constantly washing them (especially when Rule 1 is enacted). So today, after washing up 20 cups, as many plates, 10 paint pots and various other bits and bobs I sat back and had a good shufty at my hands.

They weren't in a great state to start with but by the end I had 9 cracks that were down to the flesh and ready to bleed once dry on my right hand and 3 on my left. I was hygienic, and would stress I didn't bleed on any of the washing up (it got worse when I got on to the paint pots) but even so, it made me appreciate our dishwasher even more.

Wordless Wednesday- The suggestion of duck

I am cursed regularly by Hallmark

On days like today I eschew the greetings card industry which is ever more pushing cards for every single occasion (I refused to buy a UN World Peace day card for anyone, a card too far).

No, I don't give my money to these institutions in return for a gaudy card purchased by thousands, I indulge in a bit of DIY. I was roundly ridiculed on Thursday by Big Dave at work as we strolled up the town for my quick trip into Paperchase to buy a blank card and envelope to make my own Valentines Day card for wifey. He called me a cheap-skate as he clutched his 3 Trueblood books with free card and gift wrap from Waterstones. The cheek!

Every Christmas and Valentines wifey gets an absolutely unique card that no one else in the world has ever had or will ever have.

Just one of the ways I try to remind her how absolutely special she is to me- love you wifey!

We remember now...

A while back we were discussing things of import in the middle of the night and could remember nothing at the break of day.

Well, good news folks, I (or rather wifey) has remembered!

We were talking about D of E expeditions, and wifey remarked that in order to cut down every last ounce of weight from her rucksack, she even went as far as sawing off the handle of her toothbrush.

This captures the essential difference between men and women nicely. I remarked that instead of mutilating my toothbrush, I would have just left it at home and not brushed my teeth for a couple of days. Proper woodsman style you understand.

So you see, woman think differently from men. I'm not saying ones right and the others wrong, just different.

I'm not going to the pub

I was going to the pub this evening. A rare and laddish night out with my buddy Miles. We attempt to do this once a month but its seldom that often we manage it.

Cask conditioned ales are quaffed, exotic bar snacks are consumed and we plot the righting of the worlds wrongs.

'Cept tonights outing has been cancelled as Miles hasn't managed enough decorating.

*SULK*

I can't see the wood or the trees

I got up this morning in a very unobtrusive manner. My alarm went off at 6am, about an hour after the wee lass had her last bottle of the night so I was keen to make sure I didn't wake her. I got dressed and left the house in the dark.

It was still dark out when I got to the office and that was when I realised I'd completely forgotten my glasses.

I'm typing this with my nose an inch from the screen and my face screwed up. Didn't realise how short sighted I actually was!

A Cinema for St Albans- URGENT!!!

For reasons best know to people who appear to not know much, the wonderful but derelict Art Deco cinema in St Albans has been ear marked for conversion into flats. Yet at the same time various pie in the sky schemes for pokey multiplexes on top of redeveloped car parks have come to naught.

Well, the owner of the absolutely fabulous Rex Cinema in Berkhampstead is trying to buy it and convert it into a proper cinema. You can read about it all here.

Yes, a commercial venture is trying to gather public money to do something, but lets face it, the Rex is awesome and its not as if the world of hard work and effort that James is attempting to take on is going to make him a mint in the short term. Or indeed the medium term.

The Tickin' Chicken Timebomb

Yesterday I accidentally managed to feed the whole family a seriously undercooked roast chicken. I don't know why I felt the need to put accidentally in the previous sentence, it should hopefully be fairly obvious I didn't do it on purpose. I'm just not the sort of person who wakes up and says, I know today it's my aim to poison all those I love the most.

I added half an hour to the cooking time, and cooked it at a higher temperature than the cooking guide recommended. I did the juice test and the breast I sliced off for wifey, M'laddo and the wee lass looked fine. Unfortunately I gave them theirs whilst I cut mine up and that's when it appeared I'd poisoned us all. To add insult to injury, I even cooked the roast spuds in the chickens roasting dish. You know, just to make sure I got everyone.

One call to the doctors later, I was assured all we could do was sit down and wait for the poisoning to occur. If it did. There's an outside chance we wont all puke our guts up and get terrible runs but lets face it, this is real life and that's not going to happen is it?

Still, wifey was very understanding, which was more than I'd have been in her place.

The wait then, continues. I am considering doing a full twitter-thon of the impending doom, so you might want to consider blocking me ;)

World Wednesday- The Perils of Fridge Magnets

Great ideas in the middle of the night

We were lying in bed last night, both knackered but too tired to get to sleep easily. Wifey said something that I now can't remember which was going to lead on to some points that I now can't visualise but rest assured, it would have been bloody funny.

This is probably a lesson or something in remembering to write stuff down or a case in point that parents are slightly insane and have the memory of one of those bowls with teeny tiny holes in it.

But what it is overall, is flipping irritating...

Oi, Review Up

Some of you might know I write for and do the backend for Mummy Reviews. Well I've shoved a review up on the Pogo Mini Printer today. I liked it, but if you want to know more, check out the review ;)

Hosting a website (rather than having it hosted for you on blogger or wordpress.com) is quite exciting. You get to play around with the layout and style a lot more, insert funky plugins that do cool stuff and generally have the feeling that you're doing more than just writing the content. Of course, content is king, and if you focus on making things look good, you'll lose out on the content.

But the feeling of satisfaction knowing you built it from the ground up is great :)