Take a deep breath and count to ten!

The title of this post sums up the the advice that I follow when Robbie is being irritating - a lot of deep breathing goes on in our house! This morning Robbie and I decided that the time has come to buy a new mattress and it is probably about time we had a new duvet and some new bedding as well. It will take a day or two to decide on the best mattress for us, but Robbie wanted to go and choose the duvet and the new bedding this afternoon. So when we had done all the routine jobs that couldn't be ignored, we set off to buy new bedding.

The first problem that we encountered was choosing the duvet. It wasn't as simple as just choosing a king size one, Robbie had to read and compare the information about each type of duvet. He decided on the 'bounce back' duvet - I wonder if that means that it will pick itself up off the floor and bounce back into place when it slips off the bed! 

Having chosen the duvet we then turned our attention to duvet covers and that was the way the trouble began. Robbie wanted designs with huge flowers all over them, but I don't 'do' flowers, I wanted a more simple design, stripes or a pattern but not flowers. Robbie moved from one hideous floral design to another and when his powers of persuasion failed he tried insults instead. Apparently I have no taste and I am stuck in the '80s - probably true on both counts, but all the insults in the world would not tempt me to buy a duvet cover covered in flowers.

Eventually he gave up on the flowers and decided that he wanted a duvet cover with embroidered butterflies - no way! More 'negotiations' followed and he gave up on the butterflies in favour of a duvet cover with pictures of buildings on it. Is it too much to ask to want a nice simple duvet cover that will not offend the eye? I used my veto on the buildings and directed his attention to a couple of other designs that I though he would like, they were not exactly my choice but if he liked them I could tolerated them. After in depth negotiations we settled on a design in the style of Cath Kidston, it was a bit fussy for my liking but at least it will not shout at me every time I walk into the bedroom.

I thought we were almost done but choosing a new bath mat proved almost as difficult as choosing a duvet cover!    

Adults behaving strangely ..................................

This evening my son informed me that Robbie and I were "weirding him out" by our strange behaviour. No, Robbie wasn't being inappropriately affectionate, he wasn't even talking too much or bouncing about like Tigger. We were both sitting down quietly enjoying the warmth of the fire (it is very cold tonight) and I was reciting poetry to him. I guess that is a bit odd even for us, but while we were out yesterday Robbie pointed out a pub called the Lamplighter and it rekindled a long lost memory for me. When I was a young child I had book of poems by Robert Louis Stevenson called A Child's Garden of Verses and one of my favourite poems from that book was called The  Lamplighter. Once I had started to remember old favourites several more came flooding back to my mind and I wanted to share them with Robbie. Apparently his childhood was devoid of poetry - or to be more accurate he doesn't remember much from his school days! I guess people only remember things that matter to them, Robbie has a very good memory for music, but I don't because most of it passed me by in the first place - I have never really been into music.

Perhaps my son would have been more in his 'comfort zone' if he'd herd us arguing earlier today. It is nice having Robbie working from home or at least it is nice most of the time, but there are times when I wish him many miles away! Today he offered to cook me beans on toast for lunch. I think it was part of his 'cunning plan' because he waited until my food was in front of me and I started eating, then he pounced. He announced that he intended to reorganise the way that we store cutlery. It was difficult for me to respond with my mouth full, but I made my feelings crystal clear. There is no way that he is going to mess with the cutlery, I like things the way they are where I can find them. There is plenty to keep him busy, there are countless things that need changing in this house, but I am not going to let him mess with the kitchen! 

A Bit Fishy

Robbie has been in the doghouse! I have been trying to think of something good to say about him, but I was too cross to be objective. The best I can come up with is that he is brave. He certainly likes to live dangerously, he told me that I had a face like a trout! I have never claimed to be a great beauty, but I was not impressed by his unkind words. I was very tempted to ask him if he had looked in a mirror lately, but as the saying goes 'least said soonest mended'. If he was in that sort of mood I wasn't going to bother talking to him so we had a very quiet evening on Monday.


By Tuesday evening he wanted to say sorry but he has never quite grasped the concept 'when in a hole stop digging'. He tried to be extra nice and extra chatty in the hope that I had forgotten what he said - I hadn't! I reminded him what he said and he told me that he was sorry. If he had stopped at that point he may have been okay but he went on to say that I didn't really look like a trout, it was just my mouth that was trout like! I was driving at the time so he survived unscathed - but still unforgiven!

As the evening wore on I thawed a bit, life is too short to argue and I rather doubt that he would recognise a trout if he met one! It was hard to stay cross with him as I watched him open and build the new Lego minifigures that I had bought him, the first of series 7. He got a hippy and a galaxy patrol person, he was so excited. I may look like a trout but I still know how to bring a smile to his face.

Best Foot Forward

Robbie and I had a 'frank exchange of views' last night, I know it is silly to argue about trivial stuff but honestly how hard is is for a man to understand the difference between a dish cloth and a floor cloth!! We have the sense not to argue for long, there are so many more important things in life that it is foolish to argue about trivia.

We had a disrupted night which left me feeling useless or perhaps helpless is more accurate. I woke at 2.15am to find Robbie in agony, he was crying with pain and running through his extensive repertoire of expletives. He couldn't move and his leg was in spasm to such an extent that you could feel it 'jumping'. There was absolutely nothing I could do to help or to ease his pain. It seemed to go on forever, but in reality it was perhaps half an hour or so before the pain eased slightly. He was still moaning with pain at around 3am when exhaustion finally allowed him to fall  asleep. Sleep eluded me for at least another hour, I just lay there worrying and feeling useless.

This morning we had to get up a bit earlier than usual, to give him more time to get ready. I took him to the station so that he had extra time to walk to the platform. I knew he was worried about how he would walk from the station to the office, he mentioned it several times in the car. He said that he would just take his time and he would be OK. I wish I could do something to help, I feel so helpless. As he got out of the car he said "Best foot forward". I am so proud of him, even on a bad day like this he just keeps going. He doesn't give up and somehow he faces the day with a smile.

Watching Paint Dry!

It would be fair to say that Robbie and I could (and often do) argue about absolutely anything. The other day we had a fierce row about Fred Dibnah. Robbie has some very dubious interests but without doubt I find his fascination with Fred Dibnah the most difficult to deal with. Usually the mere mention of his name causes me to run for cover, and if Robbie threatens to watch his series on television I take myself off to do something more exciting like watching paint dry. This week it was so cold (and I had run out of paint!) so even the mention of dead Fred wasn't going to make me give up my seat in front of the fire. With gritted teeth I endured half an hour of excruciating boredom, I turned my back on the television and tried to focus on my computer, but it was impossible to ignore and before long by blood pressure was off the scale. 


If they ever gave a lifetime achievement award for the most inarticulate man on television he would have beaten Bill and Ben by a mile. I didn't understand a word he said in the whole programme. The trail for the programme mentioned that in this episode he would be taking his steam engine to Sheffield. I was interested because it is a place that is very dear to my heart. I lived there for a while, I love the South Yorkshire accent and I thought it would be nice to see footage of Sheffield as I remember it. Sadly the whole episode seemed to consist of old men standing around in what looked like a pub communicating in monosyllabic grunts. Worse still I don't think there was a woman in the entire episode! We would not show old programmes that are racist so why would anyone think it was ok to show something that is so blatantly sexist? I think I will have to start a 'ban Fred' campaign, his dvds should be relegated to 'under the counter sales' in shops that are frequented by men in dirty raincoats with 'unnatural appetites'


The whole Fred argument led on to another heated exchange about the gender of vehicles. It really irritates me that men refer to cars, lorries, locomotives, steam rollers etc as 'she' when it is blatantly obvious that they are male! I have explained before that my car is definitely male because it is unreliable and expensive to maintain. I only know of one man who's car has a male name, my daughter's boyfriend has a car called Bruce. I was very impressed that he had chosen such an apt name, Bruce is very loud, hard to ignore, rather unconventional and prone to the occasional bad day (apologies to anyone called Bruce but that is what the name conjures up for me). Bruce is a red Citroen Saxo with lots of adaptations. It turns out that it was my daughter who named the car not her boyfriend, so maybe it is a case of like mother like daughter!

Least Said Soonest Mended

Photo by BJN

Life with Robbie has it's challenges as well as many pleasures and there are many occasions when I struggle to hold my tongue, but as a parent I have a lot of experience when it comes to counting to ten and keeping my thoughts to myself. I am sure my children would say that I nag, but I am careful to choose my battles. My son and I had a bit of a spat the other day, we had arranged to have a pre Christmas family day with my parents and my brother's family. 'The nameless one' was adamant that he had not been told about it and he was not happy about having his routine changed. He came with us and he had a great time, but he was still deeply annoyed about our spat mostly because Robbie had joined in and had told him several times that family comes first. I think what Robbie said was true, but you don't always achieve the best results by stating the obvious and this was one of those occasions when it would have been better to let my son calm down with as little argument as possible. When he spoke to me about it a couple of days later I told my son that I was glad that he had removed himself from the situation rather than making the argument worse. He said "Mum, do you know how often I hold my tongue? I could have written War and Peace with all the words I haven't said to Robbie!" The way he expressed it made me smile but I recognised the truth in his statement. Robbie and I argue more than may be good for us, and I there are times when I give him his answer loud and clear, but I am careful that I don't say anything I would regret later. I don't like the arguments, the making up is fun!

Shopping for the Cat

Robbie has his funny little ways. I have written before about him talking to the animals and even attempting to teach the cats to tell the time, but it is becoming silly now. He has taken the Dr Doolittle thing one step further, he now claims to speak for the cats! He really doesn't need to, both cats are quite capable of making their feelings very clear. When Robbie is cross with Oreo he hides under the bath (the cat not Robbie, Robbie wouldn't fit under the bath!) but Dave stands his ground and swears back and if Robbie points at him Dave raises his paw to remind Robbie that what he lacks in teeth he makes up for in claws! Dave is my cat and as far as he is concerned Robbie should know his place. He hates Robbie to sit next to me or to hug me and if Robbie is brave enough to try Dave pushes his way between us and sits there defiantly until Robbie moves away. I accept that Dave can communicate eloquently with Robbie and I understand they both have more than a passing interest in food, but this is going too far. According to Robbie, Dave prefers me to buy his cat food from Tesco (not my usual supermarket), he would prefer it to be in a foil tray rather than in a pouch and he would like more of the fish flavours and less of the meat flavours. Apparently his lack of teeth makes our usual brand of cat food a bit of an effort for him. Really? I find that hard to believe, this is the cat who can steal and eat a whole sausage, he likes nothing better than climbing into the bin to forage for treats and when we bring the shopping home he will rip open anything that takes his fancy if we take our eyes off him for a second. I suspect Dave's sudden interest in supermarket shopping has more to do with Robbie's preferences than the cat's! 

Normal Service Will Be Resumed

It will not surprise those who know me that Robbie and I do not always agree. We are quite capable of arguing about everything from politics to pet care, but when you get beyond the bickering our views are not significantly different. It is just that Robbie is less willing to be outspoken than I am -yes really! I can tolerate people spouting drivel as long as I don't have to listen. I can accept their right to believe passionately in the most ridiculous things, but if they try to impose their batty beliefs on me they will get their answer loud and clear - even the Jehovah's Witnesses have blacklisted our house! The thing that really gets me wound up is when one group gets so forceful about asserting their rights that their actions have a devastating effect on others, including those more vulnerable and less able to assert their 'rights'.


That brings me on to a name which has fast become a swear word among many of it's customers - London Midland. If you type the words 'London Midland chaos' or 'London Midland Disruption', you will find countless examples of delayed or cancelled services and services that terminated before their expected destination. Their name has become synonimous with disruption, chaos and unreliability. The the drivers dispute which has been causing havock for passengers is supposedly at an end. There have been various promises about normal service being resumed from yesterday. It is that little word 'normal' that bothers me because 'normal' for London Midland is not a good customer experience. Yesterday Robbie's journey to work was one of the worst yet. I would be much more reassured if they said that they would be running the full timetabled service, on time and with working toilets. Come to think of it I wouldn't believe them even if they said that!!


Like so many others Robbie has has had a terrible time trying to get to and from work.  Often it took three times as long as it should and it required considerable ingenuity to get there or to get home again. It was exhausting and extremely worrying. I understand that the drivers have issues, of course they want to be paid well for what they do. I am not anti union (but I am deeply unimpressed by the way some unions behave) and I understand that this problem is not all one sided, the company should have sorted this out long ago. In fact the faceless bods at DFT who make totally batty decisions about franchise allocation should have foreseen the problems of harmonising the pay and conditions of workers who joined the new franchise from two different companies. It is simply not good enough to treat passengers so badly.  


Needless to say the chaos has generated a lot of frustration and there has been plenty of heated discussion on facebook. I was pleasantly surprised to find that even some fellow railway employees did not support the recent action. One person wrote (not a direct quote as it was necessary to tone down the language) They need to get their heads banged together. For too long the insulated world of train crew have been taking advantage of at the people who employ them as well the poor passengers stood on platforms waiting for a non-running service. A fortnight working hard in a different job would be enough to make them appreciate just how fortunate they really are.


It seems the drivers have got their deal, but at what cost. What about the people who have had to drive to work or to university because the train service is so unreliable, what about the countless people who lost pay because their train was cancelled or terminated short. Did the drivers give a thought to the people who were terrified of losing their job because they just couldn't get to work on time. I wonder if they cared that the passengers that they messed about so badly will get no meaningful compensation. It is great for the drivers that they have got what they wanted, but at what cost?