Pencil Shavings and Roughbooks

Yesterday I sent my 11 year old out to the shops to get himself some things for school. I have had to resist the urge to buy him things myself but there's a big difference between what an 11 year old boy thinks is cool and that of his 50 odd year old mother.  

So I just browsed around WH Smiths and Wilkinson's recalling the days when I was beside myself with excitement because my mother was taking me out to buy new school stationery.

My Satchel was something like this.  We all had them in the early years of secondary school, weighed the same as a small car and probably the cause of my bad shoulder now!  Later on as we moved up the school, and became 'cooler' we had more fashionable bags, and remember once having a black Tweety Pie bag - but they don't seem to exist on google images.  The smell of a school satchel is a combination of old leather and school classroom. You know that smell that only exists in a school...the smell that instantly transforms you into   a 14 year old again?

Inside would be as many books as I needed to have with me as I moved around school, my rough book, pencil case, wooden ruler, geometry set, trigonometry tables, blotting paper, maybe a few odd sweets amongst the pencil shavings I'd put in there because the bin was too far away, and undoubtedly lots of crumpled up bits of paper used to communicate with friends secretly..old fashioned texting!  Of course there would be the obligatory graffiti on it, initials, love hearts, bands names etc etc. I do wish I had kept it. 

The creme de la creme of stationery was your pencil case.  None of the usual ones you could get in Woolies or WH Smiths for me.  I went to proper art shops and got fancy pants ones...or sometimes my aunty who was a graphic designer would buy me one from London. I'm still very particular about where I keep my pens and things and like those with lots of sections, so my ink cartridges don't rub shoulders with my retractable pencil or heaven forbid my fountain pen.

The fact that I had an artistic aunty meant that from a very early age I was given good quality tools to draw and paint with which turned out expensive as my parents had to cough up for Steadtler and Reeves rather than cheap ones from Woolies. 

I did go on to do GCSE Art with the intention to go on to Art College, so my collection of quality equipment, pastels, acrylics and other arty things grew considerably until I ended up taking in a big red art box every time I had an Art lesson.

We called then Rough Books. Also know as Jotters. Ours were an insipid blue colour and thicker than the usual books we got for individual subjects.  First job of the term was to cover your rough book in something.  It started with wall paper, then went on to sticky back plastic - Fablon!  It was the only book we were allowed to cover, so we went to great lengths to do it properly and then proceeded to write and doodle all over it until it had to be re-covered again.

When I started Grammar School aged 11, a very good family friend bought me a Parker Fountain pen to start school with. I still have that pen, but have since moved on to better ones. I really enjoy writing in ink, it's something we don't do much of anymore, which is a shame.  

So, on Tuesday morning, my youngest son will hop on his bike and start a new stage of his life. I doubt he will remember things like his new pencil case or the pens or his lovely new Jotter that he will scribble in rather than fill in neatly as I did. He will be smitten by the banks of computers and other technology available today.

Times have changed.

Call Me Stupid

It's done. 

Done before I had time to persuade myself its a really stupid idea for someone of my age. Done before my family can laugh and roll their eyes to the heavens as they always do when I do things like this. 

Don't expect me to smile like that though

I'm registered for the 2014 Newcastle Stampede in aid of The British Heart Foundation. Otherwise known as 'mud run' or 'the kind of thing only stupid people do'. I have seven weeks to get into some kind of shape to at least complete the 10k course.  

This course...

 Yes that course, or something similar - that was last year so no doubt they will have thought of even more scary stuff to include since then.  See, you thought I was joking about the stupid thing didn't you? 

Of course there has to be some motivation and a reason to do something like that. I have two reasons for putting myself through it. 

1.  I need to get fit and less fat. I can't do it on my own and need something to challenge me, and give me a reason to push on when the motivation wanes. 

2.  Over the last couple of years, four people I know have had to undergo major heart surgery. All but one the same age or younger than me. They have had to make decisions and arrangements...in case they didn't come out the other side. Fortunately they all did.  I'm doing this because without funds raised by people doing 'stupid things' they might not be here today. 

So when I'm tired and really can't be a*sed to go for a run or go to fitness camp, I will remind myself of these four people and get out there, because I can.... 

I'm not going to ram this down your throats, loads of others are doing things for great causes. Of course a donation would be fantastic, but I also need your support and kind/harsh words to keep me going. Pester me about my training, make me feel guilty for not going out in the rain. 

On October 8th I will be 52 years old. On October 19th I will probably have to push myself more than I've ever done before in my life. Its going to be tough, but as the song goes... 

..."When the going gets  tough, the tough get going"...........grrrrr 

Doing What I Have to Do..

The start of a new day here on the Northumberland coast.

  

This was the sight that greeted me when I arrived at 5:45am on the first morning of my Fitness Camp with trainer Dean Coulson and the rest of the group. I was really up for it and as I am an early riser, was the perfect time of day for me to exercise...no excuses.

Not sure what was going to happen.  I'd mentally prepared myself for a run around the sand dunes - my worst nightmare. I find running really hard work, always have but know how it feels to be able to run reasonably comfortably having been forced to get to that stage in preparation for my Navy Leadership Course back in the late 80's. Back then I could run a few miles and not need paramedics on standby at the end of it with a cylinder of oxygen to revive me and it also meant a pay rise, so there was a pretty tasty carrot dangling in front of me as I lumbered along the pavements, counting lamp posts to keep me from dying of boredom. Running is boring, wherever it is.

So I was pleasantly surprised when we gathered around the wooden seating area right on the beachfront, and proceeded to warm up doing a bit of stretching and jumping. It was a little chilly but very invigorating to see the sun slowly rise up from the sea and start to warm up the cold damp flagstones we were using as our gym.

I really don't dislike most exercise once I get into the swing of it.  I'd rather not have to struggle through sit ups and ab things...my abs were removed while having two caesareans many years ago so I do my best to reach double figures.  Leg and arm exercises are a doddle in comparison, probably all the strength work I did during my Karate year is responsible, or maybe its just the sheer size of them.

Anyway, I was getting into the zone, breathless, thirsty and admittedly feeling just a little nauseous once or twice and really felt I was pushing myself for the first time in ages. Then it was all over and we did the cool down... the fastest 45 mins I've ever known.   Don't tell Dean, but I was a little disappointed to be finished, I had at least another 15 minutes in me but since people had to get home and ready for work I just had to settle for the 45 mins and 10 min motivational talk afterwards.

Initially I felt great, then not so great and by lunchtime my body had gone into shock and was doing it's best to tell me that it didn't like what I'd made it do that morning...like a whining child being forced to go round the shops. By night time I was exhausted. I had a hot bath to ease my now aching muscles but I couldn't get to bed quick enough, all the time dreading the usual pain of walking downstairs.

Surprisingly, I woke up feeling bright and chirpy, not aching as much as I'd expected and felt good.  I was even looking forward to the next session the following day. Weird eh? All I had to do was start eating the healthy way Dean asks us to, to ensure we give ourselves the best chance of getting fit, and slim and ultimately healthier.  That's the hard part for me.  Oh to have a live in chef so that I just decide what I want, they make it, plated it up and I eat it. I'd look like a million dollars if that was the case. 

Unfortunately my family don't appreciate a fruit bowl or plate of salad. They want pizza and pasta and takeaways and ready meals or bacon butties and roast dinners so my meals have to be prepared just for me. We had relatives staying in the area for a couple of weeks so were with them for a few meals, it's hard not to over indulge and eat socially - especially when you enjoy nothing more than a meal out and chance to have a good chat with friends and family.

It made me realise though that yes I want to be healthier, fitter and slimmer but I also want to be happy and enjoy my food.  If that means I compromise on the healthy diet, but continue to exercise and do more fitness then that's the way I will do it.  I have cut right down on coffee, only have a small amount of skimmed milk, use coconut milk on cereal and in smoothies. I eat lots more fruit and vegetables and have cut right down on bread and pasta. I now take several vitamin supplements and do my best to drink an awful lot of water.  So if I do go out to eat and fancy a dessert then I'm going to have one and enjoy it.

It's now week four. I've lost weight, inches and feel much more energised.  I've signed up for another month and am planning to do the Newcastle Stampede in October.  By Christmas I will be the slimmer, fitter healthier person I want to be.

That Time of Year Again

The weather seems to have turned already despite it not even being September.  The warmish wind we had for a while has changed to a cool, damp one, resulting in me wearing socks and a hoodie. Of course we will all live in hope of a few more days to top up tans and get 'the legs out'.

I don't mind the cooler days. I start to think of Halloween and bonfire night, birthdays and then Christmas.  Yes, yes I know but autumn and winter have a lot more 'going on'.  What happens after Easter?  Nothing for months - especially when you have no summer holiday to look forward to....or to talk about when you come back.  

In fact it's pretty hard work when you have to find things to occupy bored children for days on end.  Then they go out to play, completely lose track of time and then you spend most of your evening trying to track them down.  When you do, comes the old chestnut "Can I have just five more minutes??  Pleeeeeeeese??  Followed by a tantrum of epic proportion because 'everyone else is staying out' and 'You're the worst parent ever'.  

My seat - far left of balcony above boxes

However, I digress.  The title of this post refers mainly to the fact that tomorrow I will be warming my cold grey plastic seat up in level 7 of The Milburn Stand in St. James' Park. It's like first day back at school when you're not sure who will be in the seats around you.  So far we have been lucky to have people who we actually know..spookily, three years ago we found ourselves between a good friend of hubby's and his son and Alexander's classmate and family.  How coincidental is that?  We have had some moron's behind us, but there are so many of them in there it's only to be expected. 

I don't look forward to the 14 flights of stairs I have to climb to get to my seat. It takes a good 3-4 weeks of regular home games to get to the top without needing medical attention, but still requires a few minutes of heavy breathing before I'm capable of asking for a coffee at the refreshment stand.

So today I will dust off my match day clothes, check my match bag has tissues, wipes, lip balm, hair bobbles, gloves, and headache tablets and head off with hubby and youngest for pre match pizza full of hope and excitement for a new season. Will this be the one that sees us booking trains to London?  It's been a long time since we had drinks in The Blackbird pub just outside Wembley...

 "Expect nothing and anything else will be a bonus" 

That should be our club motto.

Summertime Blues

This is where we usually are at this time of year.  This is where I'd like to be right now...

Instead I am making the most of my two weeks holiday, one at the start of the school holidays and one at the end, keeping an eye on an unruly 11 year old who despite having all the gadgets and gear that kids have these days, is constantly bored.  I remember feeling the same during the never ending six weeks holiday, except back then we really did have an excuse to be bored especially when it was raining.

Having spent most of our savings on the house and garden, using up holidays to be in for deliveries and workmen, we can't afford to fly off to The Sunshine State this year - or next probably.  So I'm enjoying the occasional 20 degree sunshine and chilly sea breeze of Northumberland in my glorious garden and  new summerhouse.  Frankly, it's just not doing it for me.

We could have gone somewhere else, but never got around to looking.  We convinced ourselves that it would be nice to just potter around at home, save the money and enjoy the time off....haha! So we listen to everyone else's holiday stories, pretend we are having a wonderful time being at home with the squabbling kids and daily chores, trying to get a pale tan while weeding the garden and feeding every other child in the neighbourhood as they traipse in and out behind ours leaving a trail of debris.

This is the first year I can remember that we have not had any kind of break away.  We often went for a week in a cottage at Easter or late summer.  Nice and relaxing, no 3G or internet. Walks and drives around the countryside for a cream tea.  We could do that before we bought a big old house and became poor.

Funny how people think that because you live in a big house you are rich and posh.  If only they knew the sacrifice we made this year.  Forced to Google images of Florida instead of being there.  It's tough.