A new version of the Cossack Dance

I have written before about Robbie's tendency to 'dance' with fury when I irritate him. When he is cross with me and he tries to express his opinion he does this strange thing where he puts his hands on his hips and keeps bending his knees. Then as he warms to his theme he starts flapping his arms and then thrusting one arm forward to emphasise his argument. I sometimes struggle not to laugh because if it was speeded up a bit it really would look like a Cossack dance. I wrote about it way back in 2007 after a particularly frustrating morning with Robbie.

"Now to explain this morning's upset. We got up in good time and Robbie had as long as he needed in the bathroom, so things were going well. Considering they only have fractionally more to wash than women, I can't understand why men need to take so long in the bathroom!

The trouble started when we got to the station, Robbie went to get the parking ticket. I realised that he had brought his rucksack, I attempted to lift it and found that it contained a hundredweight of work documents as well as, diary, ipod, magazines, snacks and all the 'essentials' to deal with any conceivable railway emergency! Samuel has an unhealthy attachment to his rucksack too, he hates to be parted from it, but he has Asperger's Syndrome, Robbie is allegedly normal!

I took his ipod, pager and sweets out of his rucksack and put them in my handbag. When he returned I refused to let him take his rucksack. He would look ridiculous with a suit and a rucksack, I didn't want him to look like a Sherpa! Robbie went mad and had a full scale tantrum in the car park. I won the first round and he thundered off with what I can only describe as a cross between a stomp and a shuffle - if it had been speeded up it would have looked like a Cossack dance!  He was impossible and he continued the argument on the train, I was tempted to tip my hot chocolate over him, but it was too expensive to waste. It took him until almost lunchtime to recover his temper - so much for Valentine's Day!"

Last night I woke at about 3am when Robbie shouted out and then leapt out of bed. I am not at my best at 3am and it took me a while to become fully awake and make sense of what was happening in the bedroom. The first thing that I became aware of was torrent of swear words fired through the darkness like a volley of gunfire. As my eyes got used to the darkness I saw the silhouette of Robbie over by the bedroom door. As well as the copious swearing he appeared to be going through a series of jerky movements. I hadn't been too surprised by the swearing, after all this is a man who frequently talks to his socks and underwear in the middle of the night (he always has to put his clothes for the next day in the dark because he waits until I have gone to bed - and he always wakes me up!). I gradually interpreted the jerky movements, he was bending forwards and sticking one leg out as if he was pushing his heel into the floor, it looked like a robot doing a Cossack dance, but it was cramp and Robbie was in agony!

I felt so useless because nothing that I could say or do would help. He often gets cramp at night, but I think the pain was more severe last night. It is scary to see him in so much pain                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

The man who reads nothing at all is better educated than the man who reads nothing but newspapers - Thomas Jefferson

There are many things that I love about Robbie, but his choice of newspaper is is not one of them. I detest the thing I resent the waste of paper and I resent the waste of money, I would rather he spent it on a railway magazine, even if he spent it on  Lego or any of his other many and varied obsessions it wouldn't seem so pointless. I have managed to change or modify many things about Robbie over the years, but he remains stubbornly attached to his limp lefty newspaper, so I do my best to ignore it.

Yesterday evening we settled down in the lounge, me with my laptop and Robbie across the room with his newspaper. I was lost in my own little world writing the blog when I glanced up to see Robbie holding his phone out to the cat, and more worrying still the cat was looking at it as if he was reading a text! I asked Robbie what he was doing and with a totally serious expression he said that he was showing the cat the time to prove that he had to wait another hour until feeding time. 

I shook my head in disbelief and settled back to writing the blog. A little later completely out of the blue Robbie asked "How much does mum pay for David's socks these days". It seemed such an odd question that I had to ask him to repeat it in case I hadn't heard him properly. I told Robbie that I have never given a passing thought to the price of my step father's socks - but thanks to Robbie I have now! Once he get's started on a subject there is no stopping him and I heard all about the advantages of loose top socks, a very good deal he had spotted; the price, the colour, it went on an on until I begged him to stop.

Finally he was quiet and I went back to what I was doing. Peace reigned for a little while, then Robbie's voice rang out asking "Have you noticed that you don't often see radishes in the supermarket these days?" I thought about it for a minute and decided to try my luck with a one word answer - no! It was worth a try, but it just encouraged him to provide more radish related information. I listened for a while but I really couldn't summon up much interest in radishes. I asked if he had ever eaten a radish and he informed me that he hadn't. I informed him that he hadn't missed much! I told him that if he was that interested I would buy him some radishes, but he quickly declined and told me that it just was something he had been reading about. 

So now yo know why I dislike that dratted newspaper, it puts ridiculous ideas in his head!

Memories of a Special Day

Robbie says that my memory is much better that his - that's probably because I don't stuff my head with train numbers, timetable information and assorted junk! I am better at remembering ordinary things. I can remember that October 4th 2005 was a nice sunny day, in fact I can even remember what colour socks Robbie wore on that day and what type of footwear he wore. It is not really surprising that I can remember the details of that day - it was the day that Robbie and I got married. Today is our sixth wedding anniversary, just an day really but it is nice to remember, so here are a few extracts from previous blog entries 


This was written on our first wedding anniversary


It is only just over a year since we got married, but it feels as if Robbie and I have been together forever because despite 'eccentricities' we get on incredibly well. There were lots of reasons why we didn't rush into getting married, but there was one major obstacle for Robbie - I wanted him to wear shoes! For any readers who don't know him, he always wears Dr Martens (because he has different sized feet). Eventually Robbie negotiated a deal re the shoes for the wedding. He would wear Dr Marten Oxford shoes for the big day and I would make no objection to him buying a new pair of purple Dr Marten boots. I wouldn't have minded him buying the boots anyway, but I let him think he had struck a tough bargain! He does make me laugh.


He was even brave enough to suggest that I should also wear Dr Marten's. Apparently they do make Dr Martens for women, but there is no way on earth that I was going to wear them for my wedding - or any other occasion. Robbie's boots are incredibly heavy, it would have been like getting married in diving boots, I wouldn't have been able to lift my feet up! My friend got married wearing an Arsenal top, I was tempted by that idea, but I don't think I was designed for sports wear!! 


This is why I remember the socks he wore


His taste in socks is almost as eclectic as his preference in shirts! He likes loud colours, and why settle for one loud colour when you can have loud stripes – he likes stripes! They even put in an appearance at our wedding. I have written before about the compromise we reached concerning Robbie wearing shoes rather than Dr Marten boots to get married. The little detail I had overlooked was the socks. On the day we were getting ready to leave the house when Robbie emerged wearing a very nice suit and bare feet. In his hand he carried a brand new rather noticeable pair of pink socks. There was no way that he was leaving the house in those, and after a forlorn attempt to fight his corner he headed back upstairs get some different socks. I thought nothing more about it until we were asked to sit down during the ceremony. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Robbie’s immaculate shoes and his hideous socks – they were clashing stripes of different blues. I have held a grudge against those socks ever since, but the dratted things never get separated in the wash and they show no signs of wearing out!


I loved our honeymoon

Apparently our honeymoon has become a bit of a legend among his work mates. Robbie works for a railway company as a train planner, and he is obsessively interested in everything to do with trains. His mates couldn't work out how he got away with a 'train focussed' honeymoon.

We had the most amazing start to our honeymoon. We spent an afternoon and evening in London cranking at Euston and the Kings Cross, after that we made our way across to Paddington. We had a first class booking on the Penzance sleeper, but it didn't leave until almost midnight, so I had plenty of time to enjoy the wonders of the First Class Lounge. Robbie got 'ants in his pants' and asked if he could go off and do a bit more train spotting. That was fine by me, I was happy to sit there and take in every detail of my surroundings, those rooms are incredible.

The sleeper journey was really special. I made sure I was awake in time to enjoy the early morning part of the journey.  ‘Sleeping beauty’ didn’t wake up until his breakfast arrived! One of the most magical memories was watching the sun rise as we came towards St Michaels Mount.

Well I have shared quite enough details about our honeymoon! The rest of the week was great too …….and it involved lots more trains!!


I would love to go on the sleeper to Penzance again one day.

The Glass Magnet

After having a week off together last week I had very mixed feelings about Monday because Robbie was going back to work (I had an extra day because of the bank holiday). Having Robbie around 24/7 can be challenging at times and occasionally I long for a bit of peace, but I am always sad when our holidays come to an end. I wasn't best pleased about the early start either! 


Robbie is a bit annoyed with me at the moment. He knows that it is unreasonable to get cross about it but, he doesn't like his routine to be changed even in smallest changes upset him. I have bought 6 new drinking glasses without seeking his approval. I really didn't think I needed to consult him about spending the grand sum of £2, but I had forgotten how particular he is about deciding on the exact size and shape of everything in the kitchen. By his standards he did well at hiding his annoyance, but we had an hour or so of sulking and stomping before he resigned himself to accepting the new glasses.  


We wouldn't have needed new glasses at all if Robbie hadn't had such a smashing time recently. I wouldn't exactly say that he is clumsy, it is more a case of things not getting out of his way quickly enough! He has wiped out two glasses and a railway mug in just over a week. That isn't such a big deal but he is like a magnet to glass and every time something gets broken he manages to cut himself. He doesn't have as much feeling in his feet as other people so that is probably why he treads on the glass in the first place. Sometimes the first hint of injury is a trail of blood leading to Robbie, at other times he does something resembling a native American war dance with corresponding sound effects as he hops into the lounge to sit down. Either way the result is the same, me on my knees picking glass out of his foot, then on my hands and knees in the kitchen with the dustpan and brush trying to pick up every speck of glass. I wish someone would design glass proof socks, preferably multicoloured ones that would appeal to Robbie.   

Time For Action

Things tend to creep up on you without you taking much notice until one day it hits you like a thunderbolt that something is badly wrong and things can't go on the way they are. That is how it has been with Robbie's pain, it has always been there and it has always worried me, but Robbie hates it when anyone makes a fuss. so I have got used to noticing a lot but not making a big deal of it. None of us see ourselves as others see us but when Robbie looks in the mirror he sees Superman staring back! Thankfully it doesn't involve him wearing a skin tight outfit with with his 'smalls' over his tights - but he thinks that he has to cope with everything without complaining and without asking for help. This is especially true when it comes to coping with the pain and problems caused by spina bifida. He doesn't like to dwell on it, as far as he is concerned what can't be cured must be endured. The problem is that this approach only works while the pain is manageable, but it had become unmanageable and just coping with everyday life had become an ordeal.


Getting Robbie to see the doctor was easier said than done, but I wasn't ready to take no for an answer and he was in so much pain that he knew he couldn't go on like that. So on Friday morning Robbie and I went to the surgery to explain the situation to the doctor. His company allow casual dress on Fridays but as we walked across the car park to the surgery door I wondered why he had chosen that day to wear see through Converse with vivid blue, yellow and pink socks, jeans and a Star Wars t-shirt. The doctor was lovely, she listened and asked questions and she could see that he couldn't cope with the pain. She wanted to see the range of movement he had in his legs and I had to suppress a smile when she got him to lay on the table and had him waving his legs around like a dying fly. She could hardly miss his psychedelic feet and the look on her face was priceless. 


My hidden smile was replaced by a broad grin when the doctor said that she thought that it would be possible to manage the pain. She explained that the pain will not go away but there are several types of medication that can dampen the pain messages coming from the nerves to the brain. She has prescribed medication with a view to him taking it long term. It will take up to six weeks before he will experience the full benefit, and it will have some side effects, but it was such a relief to have a long term plan to deal with the pain. Robbie's sense of relief was even greater than mine, he even thanked me for making him go to see the doctor. There are no quick fixes and the pain will not go away but the medication will make a huge difference and hopefully Robbie will be able to enjoy life again.

An Image To Live Up To

They say that people get to look like their pets, but an incident a couple of days ago left me wondered if people become like the images that the media create for them? Spitting Image used to portray John Major as a grey man who tucked his vest into his pants and was totally boring. For a while it seemed as if the real man had morphed into his spitting image character, but he had the last laugh when it eventually came out that he'd had a long lasting affair with Edwina Curry. He wasn't such a grey man after that, to borrow a phrase from Fred Flintstone - that takes intestinal fortitude!



The road where we live is not a main road, but it is very busy and I usually I have to pull in near the house until the road clears, then I can swing the car out and reverse back onto the drive. A couple of days ago I was waiting at the side of the road when a mauve car drove slowly down the middle of the road. It caught my attention because the car was a horrible colour and I wondered what sort of idiot would drive down the middle of a busy road. He seemed to stay there dithering in the middle of the road for ages so I got a good look at the driver, I summed him up as a socks and sandals type. Finally he got out of my way and I was able to park on the drive, but as I got out of the car I heard tapping from further along the road. I looked in that direction and noticed that the mauve car had parked (miles from the kerb) and the driver (who surprise surprise was wearing socks and sandals) was attempting to erect a vote Liberal sign. If they can't drive and look as if they got dressed in the dark it doesn't exactly inspire confidence in their ability to run the country!

Startled By Socks

Robbie is sulking because I have complained about his socks! I am fairly used to his rather loud choice of colours and patterns, but I think things have gone a bit too far. When we went to the park at the weekend I glanced down and noticed that he was wearing his see through Converse trainers with luminous yellow socks, it was a little alarming to say the least. I think he must have chosen those socks to go with his high visibility jacket!

That was not the most alarming experience with socks recently, a deeply disturbing episode happened the previous week. I usually go to bed earlier than Robbie - because he prefers to talk to the weird ones on one of his railway forums rather than enjoy my company. Anyway I went to bed just before midnight, I left the bedside light on but I snuggled under the duvet and went to sleep. Considerably later I was woken when something snatched the duvet from above and I was left to freeze. I opened my eyes to see Robbie standing on the bed wearing only a pair of luminous green socks (with orange heels and turquoise toes). He had decided that the duvet needed shaking because he thought it had gone a bit thin at the top and he was genuinely surprised by my furious response. I was ready to harm him!

My biggest objection to the multi coloured socks is that they are a pain to wash, I can't wash the yellow ones with the pink ones, and the green ones can't go in with anything else. Worse still he insists on rolling his dirty socks together in pairs, I love Robbie, but I really don't want to get up close and personal with his dirty socks! I think I will get him a wash bag to put his dark socks in, so they will stay together without being rolled up. As for the alarming colours, I can't stop him wearing them, but if they are that important to him he can wash them by hand.

A Bit Too Random

It has been nice but rather exhausting to have Robbie at home over Christmas, but over the last couple of days we have been able to take life a little more leisurely. It is wonderful not to have to get up at the crack of dawn it is a real luxury. The other day we were still in bed enjoying being close when Robbie suddenly sat up and said "sock bag". I thought I had misheard, but he went on to enquire exactly how to wash socks using a laundry bag. I explained, but I was rather sad that relaxing in bed with his wife only made him think of socks! It is a good thing that I am used to his random comments.

Two Tone

I am short sighted, I wear contact lenses, but in the mornings I manage fine around the house without needing to see anything clearly. In fact it can be a benefit not to see things in detail, the lurid colours of Robbie's socks are too much to cope with early in the morning. If I have to drive to give someone a lift or whatever, I wear my glasses and then take them off again when I get back. That explains how I managed to let Robbie out of the house improperly dressed yesterday - when he got to work he found that he was wearing his black suit trousers and his charcoal grey suit jacket! I will have to do what I used to do with the children and check him over before I let him out of the house in the mornings.

A Wake Up Call

I am getting really concerned about Robbie, he is so tired. He exhausted himself yesterday evening by having a full scale tantrum about a missing pair of socks (I am not convinced they are missing at all), then afterwards he sat down and fell asleep. I couldn't wake him up and he was leaning off his chair at such a precarious angle this morning that I was afraid he would end up in a heap on the floor. I couldn't get him to wake up this morning, this problem has now reached ridiculous proportions, he has to get it sorted out. I have told him that from now on getting up in the morning and going to bed at night is his problem, I don't see why I should have to put up with his nastiness when I try to wake him up! If his work want him body and soul, they better park him in the office over night, because he is neither use nor ornament at home. He is like the dormouse at the mad hatters tea party, occasionally he pops his head up and says something totally irrelevant then he is asleep again before he finishes his sentence.

Why Would He Do That?

You will never guess what Robbie has done now! I was tidying up the other day when I came across one of his unauthorised purchases. I thought that after so long I was unshockable as far as Robbie was concerned, but my discovery left me speechless. There was just one question bouncing around in my head - WHY? Why would anyone buy something like that? HE had bought a new pair of Converse shoes, but they are unlike any shoes I have ever seen - they are see through!! Unfortunately I can imagine how ridiculous they will look with Robbie's impossibly loud socks on display to the world. Why on earth would a man with one foot significantly bigger than the other choose to wear see through shoes. I asked him about it, but all he said was "they're iconic!" I give up, but if he thinks he is going to wear them outside the house, I am certain about one thing - I will not be with him!

An Extra Leg?

I found out why Robbie has been so impossible recently, he is worried. He is having numbness and pain in part of his hand, until now the numbness has only been in his feet and legs. When he told me I thought it may be something like carpel tunnel syndrome, but the symptoms don't match that. He will not go to the doctors to find out what is causing it, so his imagination is on overtime. Why do men make everything so complicated?

I explained to Robbie that I was very tired and that when he wakes me up at night I can't get back to sleep. I even warned him that if he woke me up again he would need to run very far and very fast! By the time he came to bed at about 1am I was asleep, but he was talking loudly as he walked into the bedroom. This time he was accusing me of stealing his socks! At the weekend when I was sorting and folding the clean washing I paired up and delivered at least eight pairs of socks; so unless he has recently grown an extra leg he should have enough socks to last a week! I didn't argue with him, I was too tired. Thankfully I was so tired that I went back to sleep fairly quickly.

Why Does He Do That?

This morning as I was sitting on the bed drinking my tea I watched Robbie getting dressed. It wasn't his body that I found so fascinating, it was the method. I have always known that he has the shower process organised and timed to the last second. Not only can he tell you what order the 'bits' have to be washed in, but he has also timed each action and he knows exactly how many squirts of shower gel are required, needless to say he also dries himself 'by numbers' too!

When he gets dressed the socks come first, he has a very special relationship with his socks, they are like an extension of his personality - loud and annoying! It is the next bit that fascinates me, why would anyone put their tie on before their shirt? I was still pondering that as he put his trousers on, and I reminded him to fasten his zip. He put things right but then he went on to explain that he would never go out with his zip undone because when he stands on the pavement next to the drive he always checks that 'all is secure'. It is true, I have told him off for doing it many times, and he always stands on exactly the same spot to do it. Why would anyone do that in public, when it could be checked in private before leaving the house!

You Don't Understand!

This a quote from Robbie this evening, to get the full effect you should know that he was waving his arms around and looking anguished as he said it. "You don't understand, they are mine, they mean everything to me and nobody should take them away from me". With all that drama you could be forgiven for thinking that he was auditioning for a part in Eastenders, but believe it or not he was talking about his lost socks!!

Sock Thieves

He did it again! What is wrong with that man? At about 1.45am I was sound asleep when Robbie came to bed. For some reason he found it essential to stand over me and prod me to ask if I was asleep. Then the light went on and he spent the next ten minutes looking for his socks, muttering darkly the whole time about sock thieves. He's deluded, who would want his socks! I got increasingly annoyed and he became increasingly irritating. Still proclaiming his conspiracy theory, he turned the main light off, climbed over the bed and switched on his side light in order to rummage in his sock drawer. His light was intolerable, it is like a searchlight and I was furious that yet again he thought it was OK to wake me up and subject me to this sort of torture. Finally he was reunited with his socks, but he refused to turn the light off, he made a big deal about setting the alarm on his phone before very grudgingly settling down and putting out the light. By this time I was furious and ready to harm him, yet again he managed to fall asleep within minutes, leaving me wide awake and unable to sleep. Please, for the sake of my sanity make him understand that waking me up in the middle of the night could be dangerous to his health!

The Continuing Saga of Socks

Robbie bought new socks when he went to the Marks and Spencer sale at the weekend. Since Saturday they have been parked on the unit in the hall, I think he is doing it to taunt me because I am not keen on the lurid colours, black and orange, navy and pink, bright green and black and other equally off-putting combinations. A pair fell onto the floor yesterday and Meg found them before I did, so they were a bit grubby. I knew Robbie would moan about it so I put them in the wash and I mentioned it to Robbie that evening. He panicked and insisted that he didn't want me to put his socks in the wash because they would be lost without trace. I was offended but he ploughed on regardless, he said he would wash his socks himself and dry them on the radiator in the bedroom. No way! For someone who is health and safety trained he has some batty ideas, the radiator is not designed to have things draped over it, it is not safe. In fact if he drapes wet socks all over the bedroom his own safety may be at risk too! Oh well, if I can't be trusted to wash his socks, I'm certainly not capable of washing and ironing his shirts, it looks as if he is going to be a very busy boy!

How difficult can it be?

What is the problem with thirteen year old boys? For the last three days I have been asking Sam for his laundry and I have encountered every stalling tactic possible. 'In a minute' translates into 'later this week' so I have to ask for the same thing over and over again. He is very keen on his personal space and he hates me poking around in his room, but I always have to threaten to go and get the laundry myself before I get any action from Sam. Last night, three days after my first request, I gave him an ultimatum - produce your laundry within half an hour or I will take up residence in your bedroom. Finally he appeared with a collection of socks and a face like thunder. He dumped the socks next to the washing machine and stormed back upstairs demanding that I should leave him alone. Well, it is a start, but they are just random socks, not pairs. He has two feet, how hard is it to take two socks off in the same place and put them into the laundry basket at the same time? So today I will embark on round two and demand the rest of the laundry, not just the missing socks, but unless my eyes deceive me he also wears pants, PJ's, T shirts and trousers, so there must be plenty more laundry festering somewhere. All this stress just to get his laundry, anyone would think I was asking him to donate a kidney!

Brave or Stupid?

Robbie has been ranting about his socks again. He had a major 'man stress' about them on Saturday, claiming that all his best pairs of socks had been stolen. Yes, stolen!

I wonder who he thinks the sock snaffler might be. Sam has a whole draw full of socks so I doubt he has any inclination to 'borrow' Robbie's socks. The girls cringe at the thought of his socks and there is no way that they would touch them. I have better things to do than steal socks, so that only leaves the dog and the cats - unless the guinea pig is selling them on ebay! I know times are hard but I am not aware of a booming market in second hand socks and I doubt we are being targeted by a burglar with a foot fetish!

Robbie didn't think I was taking the matter seriously enough, so he gave me an ultimatum. Either I take better care of his socks or he will have to wash them himself from now on. Guess what, I chose option two! He will be dealing with his own smelly socks in future, and he can look after his own 'smalls' too, after all if there is a sock snaffler about it is only a matter of time until they progress to 'bigger things'.

Musings on Feet and Fashion 17.01.08

On Tuesday Robbie was limping when he got home, when I mentioned it he claimed that he had probably tied his new boots too tight that morning! I know when I am having the wool pulled over my eyes, but I decided to indulge him, if he really wanted to believe that tight shoe laces were the cause of his predicament. As always Robbie abandoned his clothes in favour of PJ's within a couple of minutes of getting home and it became clear that the limp (and the pain) remained even when he was plodding around in bare feet, and he grudgingly admitted that it had nothing to do with his new boots. By yesterday the pain and the difficulty in walking had increased and his frustration with the situation was reaching boiling point. He did a fair bit of walking in the course of his trip to and from Cardiff and by the time he got home at 8pm he was really struggling; his leg is being just as troublesome this morning. I cant help worrying about him, but hopefully he will get his hospital tests soon, once they understand what the problem I hope they will be able to sort him out. We can't have him walking like Spotty Dog for the rest of his life!

I'm not sure if Robbie's painful leg is affecting his brain, but he sent me the most bizarre text when he was heading home yesterday. It read, "I had a random conversation with myself about people who wear turn-ups and their associated footwear, today. It was rather funny!" He was a bit put out because I didn't reply, but how do you answer that, I was speechless. I may be a mine of useless information but my knowledge of the trouser turn-up is very limited, I am aware that they first became fashionable around 1912 and I think turn-ups and pockets in new garments were banned in the second world war, beyond that I pay very little attention to them. I do tend to notice men's footwear and socks, it is amazing how many people wear odd socks or socks that scream out at you because they clash with their trousers and their shoes.

Robbie's text reminded me of an embarrassing episode years ago when I worked in Plymouth. I had to take a lady to the dentist, she had spent a number of years in a mental hospital and her social skills were somewhat lacking. We sat quietly in the waiting room and there was a middle aged man in a suit sitting opposite reading a newspaper. Suddenly she leaned forward, tapped him on the knee and said, "oh, I do like your socks". The poor man was horrified, but shortly afterwards he was rescued when the dentist called him in.

'Small' Mistakes 13.12.07

Robbie still manages to surprise me occasionally. While I was cooking yesterday evening he was sitting on the floor sorting out the load of washing that had just come out of the tumble dryer. He is much better than I am at pairing up socks and sorting out underwear ready to be delivered to each member of the family. He commented on the make of a pair of pants that belonged to one of the girls. I had never heard of the brand he mentioned and I suggested that he knew far too much about women's underwear. He was unfazed and he went on to tell me he knew because an acquaintance of his wears that brand! He seemed genuinely surprised that I should object to such intimate knowledge of someone he doesn't know particularly well, he just shrugged his shoulders and said that they were chatting about underwear one day. I have often said that Robbie would talk to anyone about anything - here's the proof! I guess it makes a change from talking about trains!!

I put the Christmas tree up yesterday, it is a longer and more complicated job than you would imagine. Finally the tree was up and ready to decorate, I leave that to the children because there is always an argument about how the decoration should be arranged and in particular whose angel should take pride of place on top of the tree. Each year since the children were born I have bought a Christmas tree decoration for each child, nothing too expensive, just something pretty (and not too delicate). I used a coloured DVD marker to write a the year, the child's name and a little message on the base or the back of the decoration. The message usually comments on a milestone or achievement that year, e.g. starting school, able to read, learning an instrument, favourite pop group, etc. I always added 'love from mum and dad'. Now the children each have their own box for their decorations and they read through all the old messages each year as they decorate the tree, the memories and the messages have become very special and the decorations provide little 'snapshots' of their childhood.

When Oreo walked into the lounge and saw the tree his eyes lit up, he was delighted to find that someone had thoughtfully provided him with an indoor climbing frame! He was distracted by a long piece of tinsel that he encountered on his way to the tree. He couldn't be sure if it was alive or dead, so he pounced on it, chased it all around the room and killed it (just to be certain it was dead). Unfortunately the tinsel got caught in Oreo's collar during the struggle and when he realised that he was being followed by a gold sparkly snake, he was seriously spooked. He leapt in the air - and so did the tinsel, he rased around the house as if the devil was on his shoulder and he was closely pursued by the tinsel, eventually I liberated him by stepping on the end of the tinsel. By this time he was too exhausted to climb the tree, but it is only a matter of time before he does. Perhaps this year we will start a new tradition instead of an angel we will have a cat at the top of the christmas tree!