My mother-in-law the basket case

I don't often blog about my mother-in-law. These days I don't often blog full stop.

But I think I'll blog today, specifically about my mother-in-law (the basket case). I am such a lucky girl, I actually have two mothers-in-law. One of them is my step mother-in-law. She is a very sweet woman for whom I have a lot of affection. She makes up for my other mother-in-law, who is a wicked old cow.

Hubby, poor, put-upon Hubby, has never had an easy relationship with his mother. When he was a child, if he didn't finish his scrummy lunch of veal cheek or pig's trotters, his mother would shut him in the kitchen cupboard where he would remain in the dark for up to two hours. When she let him out, he would be presented with the now-cold veal cheek to finish. These days, social services would be sniffing around for much less I feel.

Later in life she continued this kind and loving style of mothering. For example when we first moved to the north of France, our new landlord wanted a guarantor for the rent, because at the time I didn't have a job. Fair enough. She refused to sign the guarantor papers because 1/ she actually genuinely thought we'd default on the rent (which was, incidentally, more than manageable on just Hubby's income), 2/ she didn't want to be liable for that. So she would have rather seen her son (her only child) homeless. Nice!

The coup de grâce came late in 2007, just a few days before Christmas. We'd been visiting in November and had used her wifi connection to go online. As you'll know, if you have a wireless broadband router, this requires use of a WEP key (security number), which gives you access to the internet connection of the router. It doesn't give you access to anything else. Such as the email account of the line subscriber. I mean, it might do, but I certainly wouldn't have the first clue on how to go about getting that.

However, mother-in-law decided that we had "hacked" into her emails (like either of us is sufficiently interested in her boring life to want to read her emails! Just cos she'd *love* to be able to see ours). So she went to the Orange shop and asked them to change her email address. And she told the man in the Orange shop that we had used her wireless broadband connection. And this was, apparently, hacking! "And so I went and porté plainte" (she said this, word for word, to Hubby). Porter plainte means to make a complaint, but not just to anyone. You make a plainte to the police.

So here we have mother-in-law telling Hubby that she had reported him to the police for hacking her wifi and email account. I'll let you imagine for a moment just how you would feel if your dear mother were to say to you that she'd reported you to the police for computer hacking. In the scenario, I'd ask you also to imagine that you're going through a very rocky patch with your employer (any excuse to dismiss you and they'd jump on it), and that your whole career to this point has been in data networks (and, specifically, network security). Are you building up a scene of utter disbelief/shock/massive panic? You're getting somewhere near how Hubby was feeling.

Turns out of course that no report was ever filed, she had made it up. But just exactly what sort of a person thinks it's OK to say that sort of thing to their child? Or anyone, for that matter. Somebody who doesn't ever think about the effect their words and actions have on others. Or somebody very spiteful indeed.

Which ever one it is, Hubby was pretty hurt and pretty cross. Who can blame him. So he more or less cut her off. This, coming after a lifetime of snide remarks, cruel comments, unkind actions... it was the straw that broke the camel's back. Hubby decided he'd rather not have a mother than have one who had the potential to make him feel shitty every time he spoke to her.

So for the last 2 and a half years, he has had near zero contact with her. I'd say "c'mon, you only have one mum, even if she is a nasty piece of work." But he'd reply "I'm waiting for an apology." (Hubby can be quite stubborn!) Yerrrssss, I can understand that. But to get to the point of an apology, the "wronger" has to first be aware that they have wronged the "wrongee". Most people can grasp that concept, but in mother-in-law's skewed reality, she cannot possibly the be cause of any one single negative emotion Hubby has ever experienced in his life.

[Thanks for sticking with me, I'm getting there]

Anyway, after all this time she has finally found a way to lure him to her witch's lair. She sent an email saying she was having a big chuck out and what did he want to do with his college notes/old toys/blah blah. I could see he was swithering because there are some items in his mother's flat that he would quite like to get back. So he plucked up all his courage and headed off to the West (hahah, not really, she lives south of us, but it makes us laugh).

The big event was yesterday morning. She asked him why we never came to visit any more. He pointed out to her that the things she had said in December 2007 had been just a wee bit unkind and hurtful, and that he had been just a wee bit upset about it all. And, much to everyone's surprise, she actually said "oh, sorry". I mean!!!! Hubby suspects it was more a diplomatic, tactical "ok, sorry then, can we be friends again now" than a genuine "gosh, I didn't mean to be unkind, I *am* sorry". This was possibly borne out by the ensuing change in tack: "ok we're friends again now, when are you next coming to visit?" Hubby delicately (or not) pointed out that "if I have a choice between putting up with the cruel things you say to me [and consequently feeling shit], or not having any contact with you, well, the not having any contact is working for me." Ouch.

He is quite pleased, because he got his grandfather's hunting rifle (left to him in the grandfather's will). Mother-in-law did raise some concerns that I might get my hands on it and drive down to her dragon's den and shoot her. Ha! Hmm, let me mull that one over.... Nah. I don't give enough of a shit. I suspect she watches too much telly and thinks she lives in a naff American soap opera (lots of them on French daytime TV) where these kinds of things happen. I know I've got a temper, but hey.

Last night the gang and I had a shot a some champagne-fuelled psychoanalysis. We couldn't decide whether she is a schizophrenic with persecutory delusions, or a sociopath (is it sociopaths who can have "apparently" functional relationships but don't feel empathy?). But then we ordered pizza and watched a DVD because it was more fun.

(Have just asked the all-knowing and cast-iron reliable Wikipedia: looks like it's the pyscopaths who can form "apparently" normal relationships. Must be a pyscopath then.)

I wonder where things go from here. When I have my magnanimous hat on, I think "well, he's thrown her a rope." In saying he'd rather have no contact with her than listen to her nastiness, she can deduct that, if she wants to see more of him, she needs to bite her forked tongue. But maybe he's only given her enough rope to hang herself with. Which, when I have my self-serving hat on, I quite relish. After all, let us not forget the row that was had in our house just after we moved in. She insisted she wanted to be here for the move (to stick her beak in). Not the best idea, with hindsight. I was irritable and short-tempered, she was itching for a fight. She shouted at me (in my own home). I shouted back. Later in the evening I decided I was partly to blame and went to apologise and make the peace. She said "get out of my sight, I don't want to look at you or hear your voice and I certainly don't want to listen to your apology." Riiiiight. Her visit ended there.

I would say I'm justified in saying if she's all alone and her son won't have anything to do with her, it's nobody's fault but her own. I can fully see Hubby's point of view when he says that even if he did let her back into his life, he could never trust her not to revert to type and come out with something cruel and spiteful at the first opportunity. But the tiny little bit of me that is kind and forgiving still thinks he should give her a go. On strict probationary terms, of course.

So there it ends, my story/rant about my mother-in-law (the wicked old cow one). It's been quite cathartic to write it all down in fact. Even if I could easily write twice as much again about all the ups and downs! I haven't ever really blogged about this stuff before, because one never knows exactly who reads one's blog. But I don't care!

While shepherds washed their socks by night

Here we are, back in the USSR.... er, no, back in Midlothian for the season to be jolly. Arrived on Sunday after a stopover in York at Uncle D's and Auntie S's. Really enjoyed seeing them. It was also great to be able to break the journey and also to be able to drive all the way in daylight. Especially at this time of year. And when your car is the wrong way round.

Lovely to be home. Missed seeing the Cambuslang crowd, and they are now being shipped to Cairo by KLM. Will see them for New Year though. While I'm on the subject of the Cambuslang crowd, I have a prayer request (or good vibes or pagan moon dances or whatever): for Claire and for the full removal of a malignant tumour and the all clear after her surgery.

Meanwhile, on an altogether happier subject we are pretty much primed for Christmas here. Turkey: in fridge; presents: wrapped; food: also in fridge; tree: er, standing out the back at the moment because we need to sort the sitting room out first! Can I just say how cheap groceries are here. We bought a trolley full of fruit, veg, mince pies, oatcakes, double cream and lots of other things today at Sainsbury's and it all cost... 70 British pounds. The same stuff would easily have cost over 100 French euros from Auchan. And Sainsbury's is hardly the cheapest supermarket. I feel very ripped off living in France at the moment. Best I don't think about it because it winds me up.

So what else is there to report? Not a lot folks. Have been hermit-like since arriving and not seen anyone. But am looking forward to seeing Willie, M&M, Macleod, Jane, Annie, Em...

Aside: there is a creepy man on telly who is actually touching moths. Eugh!!

And talking of the telly... I will tell you this boy, I will tell you this, Rab C. is back! For one night only and that night is tonight. BBC 2, 9pm. And even you lucky folks in England are being treated to his pondering. You might get subtitles if you're lucky ;)

Well I clearly have nothing useful or insightful to say to I'll be off. Tidings of Joy to you all!!

Time is a jet plane, it moves too fast

Wtf?! It's Monday again already. How on earth?! The last few days have whizzed by at an unnatural pace.

It was a strange week to start with, Tuesday 11th being a public holiday. Normally I would have had a looonnnng weekend, but Mum & Dad were coming over, so I worked the Monday and took Friday off instead. So I worked Monday, off on Tuesday, back on Wednesday and Thursday morning then weekend again. But enough about work.

I managed to give myself food poisoning from raw milk. Note to self: next time you buy raw milk, go straight home and put it in the fridge. Do not stop for a three-hour lunch. That was quite unpleasant. Have beaten it into submission with some tablets.

Mum & Dad came over. Hurray! That's always a good thing. Unfortunately they had a bit of an eventful trip here. Somebody driving a Jag northbound on the M11 managed to lose control and skid into the crash barrier, spraying up mud, stones and debris at just the exact moment Mum & Dad were overtaking a lorry southbound. Aforementioned debris rendered their car undriveable (is that a word?) by smashing the headlight, ripping the bumper, smashing part of the wing and so on. Poor Mum & Dad! At least my Dad had the sang-froid to keep driving straight ahead. I fear I would have tried to swerve left. Into the lorry. And thank the Lord, and the Highways Agency, for crash barriers. They keep out-of-control Jaguars on the other side of the road.

So anyway, poor red car was rescued off the hard shoulder and Mum & Dad carried on in a hire car. I think poor red car has been stretchered home to Embra for cosmetic surgery. Mum & Dad are now headed back home, in another hire car. It's a bit of a long story so I'll not bore you any further.

The main reason for Mum & Dad visiting this weekend was to go to the wine fair. This is held every year on the 3rd weekend in November in Lille. Hundreds of wine growers from all over France come to peddle their grapey wares. It's very useful for people who like to drink good wine, because you can get quality stuff at a reasonable price and you don't have to do a tour de France to get your mitts on it. We practically only buy wine at the wine fair now, and on holiday. No more supermarket buying for us. We're such wine snobs. So anyway, we did that and spent money but not too much and have some yummy wine to drink.

Because of 1/ shit weather; 2/ Lis having food poisoning we didn't really do a whole lot else, but we had a lovely time even so. I will admit to snivelling to myself as I drove to work this morning, having just waved goodbye to my parents as they left for Calais. Poor Mum & Dad, they are still on the sodding M11! Maybe by now they'll have made it to the A14 perhaps. The thieving insurance company were supposed to provide them with a courtesy car to go back to Scotland in, but then they cancelled it because apparently "the other party hasn't admitted liability" (that'll be the plonker in the Jag). Who gives a stuff? He probably doesn't even know he nearly hit another car. The insurance companies can fight it out later, but my parents need to get home! Then they drove around all of Cambridgeshire trying to find where to return hire car #1.

Anyway, I did say I wouldn't go into that.

So, my point was: crikey where has the weekend gone? Where did last week go? Now I'm home alone (with Doggy of course). Hubby at meeting in Paris. Parents on m'way somewhere. House is quiet and empty. Lis feels quiet and empty. I guess I'll be able to catch up on the 54 unread items on my reader this evening.

Image credit: Hero Dog Blog

Textin'

Have shamelessly pilfered the idea from this post from Stratford Girl, who I do believe was inspired by a chap by the name of Brennig. Anyway, thought I'd give it a go in a slightly modified version using received texts, because my phone is set up to only store the last 20 sent messages (has to be, otherwise the memory would explode I think!). So I fired up Nokia PC Suite and copy-pasted like a champ.

From: Mum; Date: 22/04/08; Time: 12:23:16
Sorry dont have no any more. Thought i did but not on phone or palm
[I was looking for a phone number I can't lay my hands on]

From: Willie; Date: 17/04/08; Time: 02:19:00
Postcard time - whats your address?
[Self-explanatory]

From: Hubby; Date: 11/04/08; Time: 11:43:28
Thanks nat, phil & you!
[He had caught my cold. That I caught off Dad. That he caught off supernephew]

From: Mum; Date: 07/04/08; Time: 11:27:12
Arrived Dover sunny and cold
[Mum and Dad heading home after a weekend visiting]

From: Dad; Date: 03/04/08; Time: 17:53:41
On board due to sail in 10 mins
[Mum and Dad on the way to visit]

From: Hubby; Date: 01/04/08; Time: 16:51:15
Pick up?
[Somebody had had enough of work for the day!]

From: Dad; Date: 20/03/08; Time: 19:11:10
Carlisle services is [hubby] at home
[This looks like I only ever get texts from my parents but it's the luck of the draw!! Dad enquiring as to Hubby's progress after his wisdom tooth op. They were heading off for a weekend in the Lake District]

From: Stef B; Date: 14/03/08; Time: 10:43:00
Tatie garcon paul
[Colleague from work just became an auntie. Little boy]

From: Cocotte; Date: 11/03/08; Time: 19:49:16
Cocotte! T'es barricadée chez toi avec Toutoune? Y refait plein de vent! Comment ça va? Bisous ma poule!
[Cocotte checking Doggy and I were safely tucked away indoors on a windy night]

From: Cocotte; Date: 08/03/08; Time: 18:08:25
Youhouh! Génial! Bravo!
[Scotland having just won the Calcutta Cup...]

From: Mum; Date: 06/03/08; Time: 11:27:13
Are you on way home yet? How feeling? X
[Mum enquiring if I had been discharged after my tooth op]

From: Mum; Date: 24/02/08; Time: 21:26:25
Parcel arrived am keeping til next sunday to open but ta for nice message am sure will love it lots of love x x x
[Mother's day gift arrived a few days early]

From: Mum; Date: 10/01/08; Time: 10:42:5
Happy birthday to Cléo! How about that, I remembered!
[Dear Mum remembering Doggy's birthday :)]

From: Jane; Date: 01/01/08; Time: 12:31:25
Hey toots! Happy new year! How are you, and your car? Jx
[Blasted car. Lovely Jane]

From: Matt; Date: 25/12/07; Time: 17:25:03
Bon noel! All our love m & m
[Christmas greetings. Obvious really]

From: Andrew; Date: 24/02/08; Time: 21:26:25
Merry christmas. May all your stockings be suspended and all [hubby]'s dreams come true. Andy
[No comment]

How many texts?! I only got this phone at the end of last year, and I've certainly deleted half as many again.

Some advertising

Three weeks ago we spent a weekend in the Champagne region with Hubby's family. It was most pleasant. We visited the museum of wine and vines which was most interesting, we went to a champagne capsule collectors' fair (more about that in another post), and Hubby and I supported the local economy by purchasing some of the produce of the land ;)

Anyway, the point is not that, the point is my stepmother-in-law runs gîtes (cottages, basically) at the farm. They have converted old farm workers' dwellings and stable buildings into some very charming little cottages for holiday lets. And C was telling us about the course she's been on to improve her website and how to reference it. And I said that I would add a link from the blog. Which I have duly done. And I'm sticking another one in this post for good measure.

So if you are ever looking for a quiet place to stay just south of the Loire valley, where you can enjoy walks and bicycle rides in the country, try your hand at some fishing or pick up the tourist trail to the châteaux, try the Gîtes de Courmain!

A soldier of the great war

Walter Pixton joined the Royal Fusiliers on 3 February 1916, aged 19. In due course he was posted to the Somme, and during the course of the battle was severely wounded on his left leg.

Struggling to make his way towards the medical facility, he was given assistance by a soldier from a Scots regiment. This man supported him until they almost reached their goal when a barrage started up.
The Scots soldier was seriously wounded by the flak, so the two men helped each other to reach medical help.
Eventually they were put into adjacent beds. The Scots soldier was aware that he had been fatally wounded and he gave Walter his kilt because he had no family to send it back to.
Walter was returned to his family in Ulverston, Lancashire (now Cumbria) to recover in a local convalescence home. He was discharged from active service in December 1917 due to being no longer fit for War Service.
He gave the kilt to his mother Elizabeth Pixton, who carefully unpicked it and made it into a carriage rug. It was also used as a table covering in the family parlour for many years.
Eventually it came into the possession of Walter's daughter and youngest son. We would like to give it to the Somme 1916 museum, as we consider it to be part of the history of the battle, shabby though it may be.
We never knew the name of the Scots soldier.

The above is a letter written by my dad's cousin Maureen and her brother, accompanying the donation of the Scotsman's kilt to the museum of the Somme, in Albert (Picardy). Walter Pixton was my dad's uncle on his mother's side. It was only a year ago we found out he had served in the Great War.

Mum and Dad were here last weekend. We went to the town of Albert and visited the museum. Dad was pleased to see the kilt on display, and took several photos. He's planning to visit the Scottish National War Memorial in Edinburgh Castle in the hope that staff there may be able to help him identify the unknown soldier's regiment.

Prouder auntie

You are all of course familiar with Super nephew in all his loveliness:


Well, now this particular proud auntie has a Super niece too!


Isn't she the best? Of course, I am most grateful to Bro and Sis-in-law for producing a girl (lol lol), as this solved my possible dilemma on how to distinguish between two nephews. I couldn't have used super nephew 1 and 2 as this implies ranking. It was causing much consternation, but then Super niece arrived and problem solved. First girl to be born into my Mum's side of the family since me, in fact, so she is even extra special.

Faced with an empty text box

My blogging has been lacking lately. No posts, no visits to my blogroll. No nothing. One explanation is that I have been avoiding my laptop. The horrid fluorescent felt tip pen came back and I didn't want to use my laptop in case it made it worse. Anyway, it seems to have gone away all by itself for the moment.

Another explanation is feeling slightly guilty (as deftly-explained by Princesse Ecossaise) about not maintaining my blog and visiting everyone else. Which is silly really, but that's what I'm all about, isn't it? Silly, I mean.

Yet another explanation is lack of anything blog-worthy to tell. Lately I've been low and worn out and just not right. I can't sleep because my brain likes to be awake at 4am and think about things in a very excited and busy way. My body thinks this is a crock o' shite but it can't get my brain to SHUT UP and GO TO SLEEP. It's been so bad some nights I've switched the light back on and reached for a book to pass the time until sheer fatigue inevitably takes over. Doc has given me some proper drugs because the drowsy-making anti-histamine tablets weren't making a jot of difference. I hope my brain will quickly come round to the idea that thinking is for daylight hours, and the only decent thing to be doing at 4am is sleeping.

Hubby is jolly fed up with his stupid job. When he tells me about the stupid working methods they have and management's flat refusal to invest in any tools that might make his team's job easier and help them produce better, more reliable results, I am struck by how patient he is. I just could not work in the environment he works in. I'd have shouted very rudely at people and probably assaulted my boss long since. Poor Hubby.

The company in the UK that wants a telephone interview hasn't been back in touch this week to re-schedule (the first attempt went nowhere due to difficulties with their conference call system), but hey. Hubby is very diligently practising his English. We used to speak mostly French to each other but now it's mostly English. I have taught him useful idiomatic English such as "innit" or finishing every other sentence with "but" (this is to prepare him for visits to Lanarkshire to see Bro & Family). But he is under strict instructions not to show off this mastery of modern English during any interviews!

Doggy is as delightful as ever. Here is proof:

Pic taken with my new toy, which is now back from after-sales hell and works again. Obviously. That hairy blue thing behind her used to be a slipper, but she savaged it. She's that sort of a doggy. Can you tell from the photo?

If you were paying attention you'll have figured out that Bro & Family have finally moved West. They sold their flat very quickly (within two days of it going on the market!), but finding a new house didn't happen quite so quickly. And when they did find one and their offer was accepted, it wasn't looking likely they would get entry the same weekend they had agreed to vacate their flat. It was all a bit of a soap opera, but they are at last installed and have a postcode that starts with "G". The day they moved in, some curious kids from round about stopped by to see who the new neighbours were. Sis-in-law says she didn't understand one word they said. It's Sis-in-law's birthday today. Everyone say Happy Birthday.

Anyway, that's enough from me. I'm going to change my "currently reading" book and make a cup of tea and visit some blogs. Cheery-bye.

ooosh!!

My nephew, who let's face it is the cutest, dearest and cleverest nephew around, is at the age of the rapidly expanding vocabulary. Obviously even he is not at the stage of fully formed sentences, but he babbles away with his many words. Just the other day, as Bro was reading him a story, he pointed eagerly at the picture of a camel and declared "mamal". Bro thought, naturally, crikey what a clever lad. "Yes, that's right, the camel is a mammal. Clever boy." To which super nephew replied "camal". Oh well, thought Bro, maybe not got a child prodigy on our hands just yet...

Another favourite word is "puppy". Rest assured his auntie Lis will be putting all her energies into teaching him his first sentence, thus: "I want a...".

But the best word of all is "ooosh", which he repeats enthusiastically, whilst pointing at his feet and holding his shoes... Awwwww.

Bruised and battered

Monday comes around ever so quickly, don't you find? You hardly have time to get to weekend cruising speed and suddenly it's Monday again. Oh well, it's out of the way for this week now at any rate.

Been a busy weekend here at Franco-British HQ. Mum and Dad (or, The Grown Ups, as Hubby calls them - not sure they would agree with this moniker) were here for a layover between the end of their hols in the south of France and the journey back up Britain. They came laden with many goodies, mostly of the food variety and some of the fermented grape juice variety. All very pleasant. As usual, the time went by too quickly and they were packing up the car to leave this morning. I cried like a big baby (because I am), and Mum stoically didn't cry until she was in the car (because she has to put on a brave face for her little girl). And off they went.

Because the mundane aspects of life (like work) have a habit of taking over, I had no time to dwell on my sad heart, which is maybe not such a bad thing. So off to work it was, and to a team meeting. With my office-mates we had the usual ritual of "have you prepared your presentation?" "no, why, have you?!", but it was surprisingly useful (meetings often are in my job, it's always nice) and informative. At lunchtime we went and did some archery (corporate "rules": team meetings must include time for sport). I am now the proud owner of a nasty bow string bruise. Whenever I do archery, there are never any arm guards provided. Only once did I manage to avoid the dreaded bow string bruise. Should I report it as an occupational accident? Is quite sore actually.

Anyway, enough of feeling sorry for myself, I have a blog-addiction to feed...

Party under the sun and clouds

We just spent the weekend at Hubby's dad's farm in the Sologne region of France (just south of the Loire around Orléans). Saturday he held a family party to celebrate his 60th birthday and our wedding. It was another lovely day and interesting to meet many of Hubby's family. There is quite a strong family resemblance actually it's rather striking. And one of the cousins gave Hubby a book of his family tree. They have managed to trace back to 1609. Fancy that!

We (hubby, parents and I) arrived on Friday early in the afternoon. Immediately got to work blowing up balloons and making them into sort of balloon arrangements and attaching them to the picnic shelter down at the pond (well, it's a small lake really). Unfortunately we lost a few in some heavy rain showers. So we changed tack and just filled the Clio with balloons ready for the next day and last minute decorating.

Once the car was full, the menfolk helped the marquee people to put the marquee up (they only turned up at about 5.30pm!) and Mum and I took Doggy round the farm. Poor Doggy, she unwittingly tested the electric fence round the corn fields (used to keep wild boar from getting in the fields and scoffing the tender corn shoots). She got such a fright I felt so bad for her.

Bro, whom we had expected to arrive for dinner, got stuck in some especially nasty Paris traffic and they finally turned up at gone 11pm. Super nephew was in a good mood though and had been really good on the whole journey (from Selsey to Romorantin!).

Fairly early start on Sat. to lay the tables and empty the balloons from the Clio. Weather looked ominous but in the end the sun shone nearly all afternoon, with only one heavyish shower. Yet again, step-mother-in-law had orchestrated a veritable banquet. She should go into events hosting, I swear. We had giant pike (from the currently-drained pond), two whole legs of ham, various yummy salads and some rather magnificent cakes. The French are quite good at eye-catching cakes.

All in all it was a lovely day and a pleasant weekend. I just wish we could have stayed for longer. Parents and Bro and his hangers on are spending the week at the farm the lucky things. Wish I could have stayed on to enjoy super nephew. Of course, Doggy doesn't reckon much to him. Stumpy little person, she probably thinks! He is quite fascinated by Doggy, but fortunately for Doggy his attention is often quickly distracted. I have plans to teach him to pull the hairs on his dad's legs. :)

Weegie City beckons for Bro

In other news from the last couple of weeks, Bro has been offered a job by JP Morgan, in Glasgow city centre. This fits neatly in with their plans to move through to Wegie City. All they need now is a house. And a buyer for their flat. Of course I'm delighted for Bro and I know that Sis-in-law is excited. I suppose I'll get over my nephew growing up with a weegie accent too!

While we were home Hubby ventured west not once but twice. On Thursday he went with Bro to play BF2 (network game thing) with some of Bro's weegie friends. I think maybe they were from somewhere like Bearsden because Hubby said he understood almost all of what they said. He also joined the Broxburn clan on Sunday to visit their new church. I couldn't go because I was one of the living dead :-/ Again, Hubby reckons he understood most of what people said. Maybe all is not lost. And as some would say, moving from West Lothian to Weegie City can't be that much of a culture shock! :-p

Running mad

My esteemed brother has set himself a challenge. He has decided to run a 10k race. I have both admiration for him and a suspicion that he's a nutter.

Now it's all very well to get into the old training routine and be going out for your run three times a week and all that. But even the most unlikely runners (yours truly) can find it does turn into a bit of an obsession. I speak from experience. I've got over my running obsession though, and have returned to levels of fitness that would require a time allowance of about 2.5 hours to see me complete 10k. Oh, and an A&E unit at the finish line to administer oxygen and rehydrate me and provide any other emergency care I'd almost certainly need!

You have been warned, esteemed brother, you might well get bitten by the running bug. I'd offer to come and train with you next month but I'll certainly slow you down. People can walk faster than I run.

Mind your manners!

Grrrr. My mother-in-law really is rude. She just rang here and I took the call because Hubby wasn't close to the phone. She just says "can you pass me [Hubby]". In actual fact, I don't even know if it's as polite as "can you". In French "tu me passe [Hubby]" which probably more accurately translates as "pass me [Hubby] will you?". Not "hello, how are you, I'm fine thank you". Just "can you pass me [Hubby]". And never a please or thank you. She does that every time.

Kate blog

Katie Loo has a blog. I am led to believe that this is not the first attempt at blogging from our dear Kate, but she seems determined not to forget the login/address/password for this one. So we can help her out by visiting and encouraging her.
You can find Kate's entertainingly named blog here:
ithinkthereforeigetconfused.blogspot.com

Catching up...

Have had no time to blog lately, it's frustrating.

If you're reading this you probably know already, but hubby has broken his ankle in three different places. He has a cast for six weeks and probably feels a bit silly. He slipped on the banks of the lake while we were walking the dog. Oh dear.

Mum has three stitches in her forehead because she cacked over in the Lakes on Friday. Lucky for her she fell onto gravel and not rocks!! Heavenly guidance there, I think.

Nat has chicken pox! Poor Nat. Still, best to get it young (though 13 months is very young!).

Lis is tired out!

Apart from that, I suppose there's actually nothing much new, just the same old same old. Which is no such bad thing.

Spring is here :)

Nat online

Natty baby has his very on fotothing gallery
http://www.fotothing.com/repete/

Wave goodbye

I spoke to Nat on the phone just now. Well, I actually spoke to Mum, but Nat kept coming and pulling at the phone. So I spoke to him too. And when I said "bye bye", he waved. That is very sweet.

I'm really looking forward to seeing him next month.

That's it for another 364 days

So Christmas is over now for another year. It's been different for us this year. First off, we weren't in Scotland as is the custom. Because of Hubby's lack of holiday days we had to stay in France. Fortunately Mum and Dad came to us instead :) Less fortunately, Hubby's mum did too. I know that sounds very unkind but if you have any knowledge of past goings on you'll understand.

So, for the second year running we haven't been able to enjoy Christmas as we had been becoming accustomed to. However, I think that we were starting to have rather high expectations of it all, so possibly a couple of dud years will do no harm. But next year we better: 1/ be in Scotland; 2/ be able to get drunk like usual; 3/ be able to relax!!

Belle-mère (French for mother in law) arrived Friday. We had already planned to have Stéph, Hélène and Jean Charles round that night so we decided not to change our plans following the last minute arrival of belle-mère. Hélène has now named her schöne muti! Mum and Dad got here on Sunday morning. In the evening we went to the Anglican church in Lille, which was really nice. Mum and I had our imaginary assessment sheets out and they scored quite highly so maybe Hubby and I will go in the new year. He and his mum went to the church in the village, but we didn't because we can't take communion there. And anyway, Catholics are strange because they only take the bread and not the wine. Can anyone explain why?

On Christmas day I gained new respect for Mum. I scurried around and tore my hair out to make Christmas dinner (pheasant with assorted vegetables). And with Mum and everyone else's help I managed to cobble together something more or less hot and edible. But Mum seems to create a marvellous Christmas feast with everything ready at the same time, without forgetting to prepare the fruit salad, and without getting in a flap. Hubby says she succeeds in this because she makes the same thing every year so she knows it inside out. Mum says she just ensures we're all slightly sozzled so we don't notice whether it's any good or not! I don't agree, but hey.

Apart from a couple of heckle-raising incidents, yesterday didn't go too badly. Parents and I are a bit disappointed as schöne muti will be here until Friday, which is also when parents go, but I suppose these things are sent to try us.

Now Dad and Hubby are at the DIY store buying things to plumb the washing machine in with. The washing machine will then be able to go and live in its new home in the larder and we shall be dishwasher-enabled! Hurrah, much rejoicing.