Ichabod's Day

Paston Windmill in Norfolk - came up for sale a few weeks ago for £500,000 - need a lottery win please! Only now do I feel as if I have returned to a normality (well normality for me anyway!). Both the trials and tribulations of welcoming the new dog into the home, and the mad rush of the new semester have exhausted me and sent me into a parallel universe where the only things in existence were traffic jams, an office, a bed, bunting and a virtual world with which I have been engaging to research, teach, facilitate learning and deliver a 24 hour virtual knowledge exchange for Occupational Therapists around the world together with my esteemed colleagues in OT4OT. I seem to have a finger in so many pies at the moment that I think I have possibly  grown a few more upper limbs - just wish they were functioning so that more tasks could get completed! And whilst I am very pleased that people are beginning to hear of my bunting exploits and orders are slowly arriving - finding the time

We have a new addition to our family .....and I am exhausted!! I have spent the last three weeks: a) placating a five year old who isn't keen on sharing his toys b) using eyes in the back of my head to make sure that the "new addition" was where he should be and not where he shouldn't be c) trying to second guess signals - is he hungry? Does he need to pee? Can he understand what I am saying d) listening to others who are keen to give advice - however the often conflicting advice has made things even more difficult to points where I have felt completely impotent and deskilled. Needless to say I have spent the last three weeks  exhausted, guilty, frustrated, anxious and constantly checking for reassurance. Questions constantly run through my mind: a) are we being fair to the 5 year old? b) have we done the right thing? c) will we ever be able to leave the house together as a couple ever again? They tell me that this is exactly what mothers of new babies go t

Yesterday was a wet and windy Sunday so I decided to do very little at all and had a bit of a film fest. The History of Mr Polly - a great John Mills black and white film, Sandra Bullock in Hope Floats and then I watched Fiddler on the Roof . I had seen this as a young teenager and remembering that it was one of the only musicals I didn't like, but it was a wet Sunday and I did have an easter egg to finish and needed a film to finish the trilogy before tea. Now, for those of you not familiar with the film I copy here the synopsis from the link above " In pre-revolutionary Russia, a poor Jewish peasant must contend with marrying off his three daughters while antisemitic sentiment threatens his home." So, not many laughs there then! However............... I was glued to the TV from start to finish - and I will admit to the odd tear (and maybe a sob or two!) as the film progressed. What I realised is that as a young teenager I possibly identified with the daughters in th

As a child I frequently suffered with night terrors. Periods of waking through the night with inexplicable intense fear and dread which led me to scream out until pacified. My parents, after a while, subscribed to the "she'll grow out of it - just leave her to it" philosophy, leaving my older sister, with whom I shared a room, free reign to exacerbate the fear even further by telling me such things as the bogeyman lived in the airing cupboard in our bedroom! I can't blame all of it entirely on her, I will admit to an interest in, even a fascination (possibly macabre) for the supernatural from a very young age. I read innumerable ghost stories, loved Tom's Midnight Garden and would sit for hours in my Grandad's shed listening to the older children in the neighbourhood relating ghost stories.  During daylight hours these were all fascinating and would spur my imagination - which would return with a vengeance in the dark hours before the dawn and scare me to dea

Just come back from a busy weekend down at the family "pile". Sorry - using rather grand words as have renewed interest in tracing the family tree - a task started by myself and my Dad a few years ago but that has stalled more recently. We decided to treat ourselves to a trip to London to the BBC Who Do You Think You Are exhibition. As usual, the journey down by train was uneventful with one or two amusing incidents. First announcer sounded as though he was using a loudhailer from outside the train - never did get to hear what he was actually saying! Second announcer I can only describe as "camp with menace" in fact I have never heard the word "pannini" uttered with such disdain!! Third announcement was interrupted by loud female voice "hope you enjoyed travelling with us" accompanied by much giggling and raucous laughter as she was (a) egged on by her mates and (b)swiftly cut off in her prime from the PA system. Someone obviously had a liquid

Well, that's another year over. Another xmas and another new year's eve. Have decided not to make any resolutions this time round - let's be realistic they would be the same as always: be thinner, be healthier, be nicer; and somehow I never manage to achieve them. This year the festivities have been very quiet - just me and husband- so have had time reflect, relax and generally lounge about. I am often asked why I don't go out on new years eve - with the assumption that I am being bah humbug! So I have decided to share previous experiences which should go some way to illustrating why I now stay in!! 1988 - went to stay with a friend and her partner. They fell out and we ended up walking through the villages of lincolnshire in the snow trying to find where he'd gone. Didn't see in the new year - too busy trying to keep warm. 1989 - went out the night before on a blind date (as it happens this was to be my future husband!). While I was out I was burgled. Ne