Loopy Log

Tales from the Loopy Lass

Thursday, January 20, 2005


This is my first blog and I feel nervous. My husband is great at this and has inspired me to spew my drivel into this electronic abyss - why? For the same reason as Sir Edmund Hilary gave when asked what his motivation for conquering Everest was - "because it was there". I cannot take credit for conquering the setting up a blog. As I just mentioned, my husband is great at this meaning that he has hit all the right buttons (well I am nearly 8 months pregnant!). Being able to read this will demonstrate that I can now manoeuvre my gerbil thingy and batter the buttons on this typewriter to some decipherable affect. The genius is now tapping away doing his 'thang', and I'm now on my own. Last time I felt like this was when I was doing my English Higher. In those days............ way back in the Jurassic era I think it was, you were given a choice between writing a Descriptive, Narrative or Fiction essay. I chose to write what I know about as I'm rubbish at making things up. The topic I selected was 'write about the first time you felt grown up'!!! It seemed like the most inoffensive option until my truth revealed it was a knicker related story. Bloody typical really. The reality of that for me was the first time I was allowed to go and choose and buy my first pair of knickers on my own. The srict navy blue/can double up as gym shorts standard issue was stricly off the shopping list at last!!!! Oh what liberation. I still cringe at that snaggy navy stretch nylon that always used to set my teeth on edge. At last, for the first time, I opted for a rather dinky pair of white pants with a hideous plastic transfer of Snoopy which promptly dissolved after a rigourous machine wash favoured by my detergent happy mum. Despite their flawed and pathetic appearance, for me they were my prize knickers reserved for the highlights in my life like the local village church disco or my dad's work annual outing to the pantomime.

Anyway, getting back to 2005, here I am, now aged 40, a liberated knicker purchaser with some other bits and bobs going on as well. I now favour big pants. We are not talking Brigitte Jones 'oh gosh, Renee's gone from a size - 8 to a whopping 14 just for this film' size pants. No, these are really big pants here. We are talking pants with such diaphramous capabilites that skydivers would quite happily have them as a reserve parachutes should the occassion arise. I still have some sexy size 12 things/thongs, but pregnancy simply makes a mockery of such items. They invite pregnancy in, then pregnancy boots them out. Quite bizarre really.

This is my second baby. My first baby is now seven. She is called Alice. She is my pal. She has wisdom far beyond her years and has decided to surpass the knicker dilemma by making it clear from the offset as to what style and colour of knicker she is prepared to wear. Good on her!!!! We had a great girly day today despite my continual skint status. My bright idea for the day was to go girly window shopping. It would appear that neither Alice nor myself have quite grasped the concept of this window shopping thing. Purchasing a REALLY REALLY REALLY funky black fur edged velvet afghan style coat that was less than half price and looked amazing on her defeats the purpose of window shopping apprantly??? The defence would state that "It would simply have been illegal for her not to have it my Lord". Is there such a thing as a 'shopaholic by proxy'? It was all her fault anyway. Whilst whizzing through the rails in Debenhams girls dept. she selected a range of fashions with such deftness, even Trinny and Susannah would have approved. 'Can I try these on mummy?' she asked with those gorgeous big green eyes. My stomach churned. She is not one of these precocious kids who demands this and that, the problem was ME! I just knew that she was going to look great and having to put it all back was going to be really painful. Alice chatters incessently at which point she announce that the particular outfit she was trying on would be 'absolutely perfect' for her 'staff night out'!!!................ She's seven!!!!!!!!!!! LET's GET THIS ONE CLEARED UP SHALL WE????? It would appeaer that her daddy, (when not busy conquering Cyberspace) had taken her a regular 'social' haunt of ours with whom we have befriended ourselves. Alice has a knack of 'getting involved' shall we say. This has included collecting glasses, wiping menus and basically chatting away with the skill of a seasoned hostess to anyone who looks remotely interesting enough to talk to. The main man (Billy) had mentioned the other night that he wanted to treat his staff to a night out to say thank you for their hard work and commitment over the last year -'and that means you too Alice'!!!! I have now to get my daughter ready for her first staff night out at the end of January. I wonder what she'll write if ever asked to write an essay on the first time she 'ever felt grown up'? ........................................

See ya!!!!


At 11:29 PM, Tony said...

This post has been removed by the author.

At 1:11 AM, Tony said...

I hope you realise I've had to forego my beer tonight due to you spending all our money on that coat.

At 8:32 PM, peter said...

Hi Louise. As you're eight months pregnant, it looks like you managed your gerbil fairly successfully. (Sorry - couldn't resist... I'm so gross I know... )


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