We are going on holiday!

Not yet unfortunately but in August! Yay! 2 weeks away to France. My sister is hoping to give birth to kiddie No2 then as well so once we are on the mainland, we can just drive on to Holland if she is kind enough to deliver whilst we are in EUrope.

Other than that, the plan is to go camping in Brittany and cycle parts of the Nantes - Brest Canal. That is a nice and flat route to keep JD happy, and nice and cycling to keep me happy. We have ordered a nice book from Amazon about the canal and a map of Brittany so we are all set. Now all we need to do is decide where along the canal we will set up camp. We won't cycle the whole thing but just day trips here and there. I am BEYOND excited.

In other news, JD and I have gone back to the gym and I am SO proud of JD. She was focussed, put effort in, sweated loads and even signed up for a 6-week fitness plan specially put together for her. Last time we went to the gym, she was unable to concentrate for more than 2 minutes, kept stopping and did not sweat at all since she put no effort in: lost concentration before she even got going.

All these little things make me feel really positive about the future: she's really getting better. Yay. Bring on the holiday!

Bike found

On our way to the pub for a nice waterside dinner, JD spotted a shade of blue in the bushes. It turned out to be this lovely brand new Raleigh folding bike. No really, it is brand new, probably used only to escape the cops or the keeper of the shop from where it was stolen. It will be on Ebay shortly and it will be subsidising the fixing of the dent in the car that someone made and then drove off,

Dottie the (lesbian) Sock...

...and how she found her match.

A book about something we can all relate to: A sock that just can not find her match. We have all been through it: somehow, you have socks that just don't go together. No matter how many times you wear the two odd socks together, no matter how much you try to make them in to a pair, it just does not feel right.

That is how Dottie feels. She's a cute sock, looking for her match.

She won't give up until she finds [her match]. She asks her Mom. She asks her Dad. She asks her Sister. She asks her Brother. She even asks her Nana and Papa. She doesn't find her pair, until she looks inside of herself and follows her heart.

Dottie is a lesbian sock.

Christine Gayle wrote a cute children's book about looking for that other person who makes you complete. And in Dottie's case, she is just a girl sock, looking for another girl sock.

Needless to say this book has caused outrage in the US.

In a rather funny article about the book,After Ellen says:

When Dottie was released last week, Gayle began receiving emails from angry parents saying there should be some kind of Big Gay warning on the outside of the book. It seems so non-threatening, then you open it up and — BOOM! — homosexual stockings. How is a kid supposed to recover from something like that? Oh, and also: writing about lesbian socks will cause God to doom America to hell.

I am laughing still after reading that article. Both at how funny it is, but also, sadly, at how ridiculous, once again, American parents are about anything that might have anything to do with educating people about homosexuality.

Michael Jackson is dead...

Invocal

At a music festival in Northampton. Hardly anyone in the audience but on stage is Invocal. They are a local group and totally mad. Wicked stuff. Lovely harmonies. Here's a video from a performance in February 2008.

Jane goes spare

Gone for a nice evening of bowling with JD. Spontaneous decision. At 3 games for £7 each, I reckon that is goods value for a Tuesday night. We were really really bad! I beat JD in first frame with an impressive score of 71! The second frame was much closer but I still came out on top with an impressive score of 76. The third game I lost. JD beat me 85-84! Impressive scores? Not really. But it sure was a load of fun. Almost better tan spending the whole night watching Law & Order / Law & Order SVU / Law & Order Criminal Intent on the Hallmark Channel all night.

No, actually it was more fun than that even.

Footing the bill...

I am going to run out of attempts to be witty about my mother's foot but one last one then....

For those who have asked me how she is doing: she's doing better. Had surgery, bandages off, stitches out tomorrow and not allowed to put any weight on it for the next 6 weeks! She's got a nippy little wheelchair to race around the house (my dad nearly had a heart attack when she tried walking around on crutches so I think they are out). The builder has made ramps so she can get in to the garden (front and back) and in to the bathroom. She's happy because she can now hang the laundry on the line again and tend to her roses.

My poor dad is doing all the shopping, cooking, washing and cleaning but mum says he is being fabulous. I can just imagine her directing him from her wheelchair.

Anyway, 6 weeks in the chair, then another 2 months of rehab and physio. Poor woman. That's your summer gone.

Men are disgusting

Now calm down, before you start accusing me of penis envy or radical feminism. Let me explain.

I work in an office with men. And not a day goes by without someone (they never own up to it) pissing on the seat, on the floor or some other place that is not IN the toilet bowl. No matter how many times I voice my disgust when it is discovered again, it still happens.

Even worse: people leave floaters in the toilet and skid marks. Again, mentioning it out loud does not encourage anyone to clean it up. Bad. But even worse, somehow, is that everyone comments on it but nobody feels the need to take the toilet brush and clean the bowl. I KNOW they may not be the person who did it, but all the guys seem perfectly happy to leave the skid marks in the bowl for someone else to clean up. And usually, that is me as I am aware of the fact that we might have some clients in at some point and it would just be embarrassing to have them face the skid marks.

And so, my conclusion is that men are disgusting. They either make a mess or are happy to leave the mess as they see no need to clean it up.

Cycling trip

Group of girls on the Brampton Valley Way. Hot.

My mother's broken dreams erhm...ankle.

My parents went on a 10 day trip to Italy this week. They left on Tuesday to stay in a house near Genoa. This morning, my dad rang to say mum had slipped in the shower and broken her foot/leg/ankle (whichever). On their second night. Poor man was in tears. They speak a bit of Italian but nowhere near enough to be able to call the ambulance and explain what happened. Luckily the neighbour speaks a bit of German so they helped with getting mum sorted for a hospital trip.

Her foot was instantly purple and swollen and it is, say the doctors, a nasty fracture that requires surgery. But hospitals in Italy are high on the MRSA list so mum said she would absolutely not have surgery in Italy. So now they will try to fly her home on Saturday. They suggested she could hobble on to the plane on crutches but dad said she is depressed, scared and unstable on her feet so he won't let her leave unless it is ina bed. So now they are flying over a nurse from Holland (that's the law) to sit next to mum's bed in the plane.

Dad is right though. It must be really scary to slip in the bath. And if you have never ever used crutches before, going on a plane trip with them at 60 is not a good idea.

I feel sorry for both of them. Mum in a skanky hospital with no privacy curtains and terminal patients mixed with minor injuries, nobody to talk to, not many books to read (they had planned loads of trips, rather than lots of quiet reading). Dad alone in the holiday house they rented, on top of a hill, 3miles from the village, nobody to talk to, not much Italian to speak and cupboards full of shopping and food (they had just done a big shop to sustain them with wine, cheese and other nice nibbles.)

Luckily my sister speaks fluent Italian (did I mention she is pregnant again?) so she can speak to people on the phone for dad if needed.

Poor dad. He was so stressed with work, he really needed this holiday. And now he will be spending the next few months caring for my mother. Hopefully the surgery will be done soon and mum will be home recovering asap.

Should I go over there to help? Nothing I can do. It would just be to keep her company.....Grrrr...I hate not being able to help.