Hello old mates

We've just spent a lovely afternoon in Brighton with old friends, Rob and Vic. They live in New York now, and were in Sydney before so are both very well travelled, and hard to meet up with!

But you know what? It was just great to see them despite a gap of probably three years, and lots of incidents and occurrences in lives. Just lovely, particularly as they are still as funny as before. Last time we saw them Rob managed to break a garden chair, this time he lost his car parking ticket a number of times, got a parking ticket, forgot his car keys, and um, was just well Rob.

Anyhow - just wanted to say hello Bob and Vic, and come and visit us in tattyhouse soon.

p.s. Kids thought you were both great too, think they really like the idea of people existing who know their mum and dad had a funny life before they were born, although Ol slightly confused at Mat living with Rob - wasn't sure who was the parent!

The Elves are getting busy to swing in giant baubles

Spent yesterday afternoon sewing some elf dresses for dolly's. Have decided that sewing is not as hard as you might think, and that Barbie who is one of the three dolly's is actually inhuman. The poor thing can't stand up as her feet only work in heels, and her enormous boobs make her look slutty in whatever she wears.

Mind you the big eyed dolly, is from a charity shop and came in just her knickers. We accidentally left her in the cafe, and when we went to collect her they'd made her a little top out of paper to protect her modesty. And I think it really was for that, rather than the fun of it, as it wasn't coloured in or anything.

I've also made two giant bauble/round cages for Christmas. The plan is the little elves will hang delightfully in them. Course now I'm typing it, I can see the error of making slutty Barbie a dancing cage for the infant school fair. And they are banned from school (I think). Still we're missing Christingle service this morning, so will be obvious to all concerned that we are not Christian Good. (Or maybe they will just think we go to another church - perhaps can invent a story about this).

Happy Candle Lighting Day.

Dental Flipping Mental

Can I have a bloody good moan? I've just changed nhs dentists. First one I had outside London was an Evil Man who considered my face in need of punishment. He used to spend all appointments trying to squash my face in to shape, so much so that I used to have to use my hand to grab his and force it away. Sometimes he'd apologise, and sometimes not. I think he genuinely used to like to support his weight on patients faces whilst operating. So I have binned him.

Now I've found a new dentist, who seemed nice, kind, caring even, and on the nhs too. The only worrying thing about the surgery was the speed in which they can offer you an appointment (two weeks). However today they, her and her assistant that is, have really really upset me. It all started off ok, I needed two fillings, went to the appointment on time, sat down, exchanged pleasantries etc etc. Then the dentist got out a GIANT needle, and just jabbed it in to my gums three times. It really really really hurt.

Then the assistant did the suction thing, obviously with the giant injections one half of my face was paralysed. But not my tongue. She bashed it with her tube thing so many times, I got so tense, I simply reached out grabbed her wrist and pushed it away saying; 'Stop it now'. She did stop, but it was all rather embarrassing as could not explain self until another ten minutes or so had passed. We both apologies to each other, me for being a little harsh, and her for hurting me.

Then I left. But have to go back in two weeks. Surely this is all wrong though? My first lovely London dentist in Crouch End promised me he'd never hurt me, and never did, think he used to just wipe no pain something on my gums before an injection. Trouble is, he used to be private but said his charges were the same as nhs, course they were not.

Then second lovely London dentist (ok - I know this is getting a bit City-centric but really they are kinder!), was nhs and private. He was really good looking, irrelevant of course, but most importantly never hurt me, ever. And he was in Wanstead. But he was nhs, and most of my treatment with him was completely free, as spent many years either pregnant or year after having baby. (Nearly four now I come to think of it - Jesus, no wonder I fancy a drink more these days!)

So, is that it then? If you want nice kind pain free dental treatment you have to go to a lovely area, and find a dual nhs/private dentist? But where is that here? Tenterton? There's no dentist in the Old Town which would usually qualify as loveliest area in Hastings.

I wonder if I can bring myself to ask current dentist, who apart from pain issue I like, if she has some anti-hurt wipes? Suspect she thinks I am biggest wuss patient ever already though, and don't want to offend her.

Mouth still not right now, at end of day, after early treatment. Tried to drink coffee but it is as though as have had stroke on left side of face. Managed to eat a pot noodle like a elderly person without teeth though.

This is sheer cherry choc chip candy for your eyes...

I came across this gorgeous blog whilst hunting down images of vintage elves - (am considering imprisoning them in metal baubles for the Infant School Christmas Fayre) - and I love it...

http://shop66.blogspot.com/

Reasons to love (sometimes in inverted commas) the countryside/seaside...

1. Powercuts happen, and are made worse, as this week, by someone (from the council I imagine) putting tarmac over the electricity control thing, thus making someone else dig up the tarmac before electricity thing can be mended.
2. We have our own style; like flip flops with Pac A Mac's. People also show no shame in wearing waterproof trousers, even if their thighs look fatter, (n.b. suspect this is unavoidable for all except skinniest yummy mummy).
3. Children need waterproof trousers to get to school, as umbrella's don't work in high winds.
4. The shops run out of semi skimmed milk, thus making us sample strange strained milk, and full fat, and try and keep supplies of long life milk about.
5. Cashpoints regularly run out of money, making you spend less. Strangely this is not just the case with the one decent cashpoint in the Old Town, which is always empty after a busy weekend. It's also the same with banks own cashpoints, even when the banks are open (perhaps they need the cheery Nat West man from the ads ten years ago to fill them). Or possibly they don't have any money in the bank?
6. There is little vegetarian or healthy food to buy in local shops, one could imagine vegetarianism was a faddish diet, and only purchase food in verified health shops. Least it means local independent health food shop does roaring trade.
7. Wellies are everyday wear, if deemed too rainy for flip flops. Acceptable alternatives would be boots or Converse. Nothing else.
8. People are friendly, love to help, chat and freecycle. In particular they adore offering their gems of childcare wisdom to stressed parents on buses or in supermarkets. If they have no wisdom to offer, choke inducing lollipops are offered to babies and small children.
9. Goths are in fashion, but not as much as in Middle Eastern England where they never went away. They have come and gone and are now back on the South Coast as Emo's. Not to be confused with suicidal people as this is Rude to Emo's.
10. There is nothing to buy most of the time, but when there is it is expensive. Primark is no longer acceptable, we all know too much. It leads us all in to making our own (which is another story altogether).

Lights out

So last night we were sitting watching telly, an old episode of Ugly Betty to be precise, there was a little click noise and the telly turned itself, as did all the lights. We had the fire lit, so still had a little lovely glowing light. We had a good look up and down the street and saw there were no lights on, apart from a candle glow across the road.

We've had our first power cut as a couple! And I think for both of us the first ever since our childhood's in the 1970's and, possibly 1980's. Really exciting. Drew us both in to reminiscing where the big chunky white candles, which were only ever for practical purposes were kept at home and what lights were available. Luckily I remembered where the torch was yesterday, under the sink, and I knew lovely M had been playing with the battery lantern earlier, and therefore would have left it lying about in the playroom (I was right), plus we had a few odd tea lights scattered around.

Annoyingly M went to pick up his guitar to play and sing as soon as we sorted some light. I got very cross and said that wasn't fair as I'd just have to be a captive audience as it was too dark for me to read or knit or watch telly. And although he is getting better, have to admit is not quite at stage to do private shows, plus he'd bound to end up playing that bloody nothing ever baker street song which along with ska twists my brain.

So, instead we discussed our family histories; who was working class, and why, who was middle class, where they lived and what they did for a living. Spent some time pondering the difference between respectable working class and lower middle class. Can't remember the conclusion but owner occupation was a factor as was occupation of parents of families. (I was definitely respectable working class, jury is still out of rest of the family). One for Christmas discussions I think.

Anyway, then we brushed our teeth by candlelight, got ready for bed, and just as we were about to fall asleep. Ping, the lights were back on, weirdly they all actually came on, so we were woken up properly by a blast of light. Shame, must have some more power cuts this year. Although hopefully not on Christmas day, and not when in middle of shower or anything I need to do.

Stickers Galore

I've printed some stickers, using this as a background. Very very pleased with them, as when peeled off they have little bits of beads and Barbie on them.

What do you think?

Wonder telly...

I loved this; http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00fm5t3 almost as much as the time Helen Daniels in Neighbours got stoned...

How hard can it be to buy a calender, or why I should have more to occupy my leisure time part seven

I've spent the morning scouring the local shops for some black trousers, new wellies, and pants for Ol's school play. All needed apart from the Spongebob pants. Utterly bored with boys clothes now, and utterly bored with not ever finding what I need in the shops.

I've been hunting for the perfect calendar for weeks now, I've searched Hastings, Eastbourne and Bexhill. Every single shop that might sell them, and every single calendar has been examined. And now I'm bored, but still really really want a decent calendar. Had a lovely Ruby Gloom one last year which I was particularly keen on, and a vintage train poster one this year, which was a present.

Possibly the answer to all this hunting the shops is a day trip to town, tired just at the thought of Oxford Street though; know I'd just end up in lovely Leyton, and stay there (n.b. who would have thought Daniel- whose wife died was from there).

Or is the answer Bluewater? Or an amazing online shop I've yet to hear of?

They do bite you know...a man says so,

Good Lord, there are TWO kinds of giant spiders living less than a mile away, possibly a little over a mile away, but either way somewhere I have been. And I have possibly touched them. Or they have possibly touched me, and plotted how to GET ME, because as everyone knows, spiders will eventually be the end of us all. Or worse they will colonise us, I actually heard a story once where a spider laid its egg in a person, then they scratched and all the baby spiders came running out!!
Jesus, this is even worse than the killer ladybirds. And I am never going to those bloody caves again, even if they do let us in for free, or if we have teacher tickets, or if the children beg. Frankly I'd rather do anything else, plus I think they might be after Ol too, as once a Giant Giant One in Wales stood on him when he was a baby.
BBC NEWS England Sussex Exotic spiders dwelling in caves