Just Me And My Flip Flops

Is fighting over the wishbone still a thing? Or is that yet another memory of yesteryear committed to the memoirs of those of us whose childhood straddled the 70s? Those of you aged under 40 are probably wondering "What the bloody hell is she wittering on about now?" But believe me, it really WAS a thing! Sunday roast done and dusted, I'd watch the chicken carcass  & its hidden wishbone treasure be popped in a pot to be boiled up with an assortment of root vegetables to make a soup for Monday. An hour later and mother had scraped every bone clean: the prized wishbone was put up high on the kitchen shelf, out of reach of desperate young hands, to dry out. Monday - and it's soup - came and went. The wishbone stayed put.  I knew that because if I stretched on tiptoes, I could see it. Just. As far out of reach as the fairy atop the Christmas tree. It just sat there. Silently. All wishboney. Tuesday. Home from school, "Is it ready yet mum?" ...

Do you ever wish life had a || button? You know, when you just need to stop. || Pause everything. It could be because everything is going so well: the perfect day, the perfect week. Sunshine, good health, good fortune, family, love, luck, a holiday, long hot summer days, happiness. We all have those moments when everything is spot on, life couldn't be any better than that moment right then, right now. You're skipping your way through life like Pippy Longstocking. Life. Is. Good!  So good that you just want to gently press that pause button, smile, let out a long sigh & take time to observe all the good things in your life. And you don't want that moment to end. You wish you could bottle it, store it away amongst the harvest of apples or homemade pickles for a time when life is less abundant of the good things. || Or it could be that life is doing its darnedest to break you right now and you just need some respite from all the nonsense & ch...

I've always had a fascination with maps. I think it started with my 1st childhood atlas. I'm not sure if it was a hand-me-down from the boys or my very own. It's history is irrelevant. I loved it. Yes, a book. I was obsessed with reading. This book, that book, any book, all books, cereal boxes! I loved to read. And I loved maps. So a book full of maps - bliss! A few years ago I stumbled upon a book written by Ben Fogle, he of that very early reality TV programme Castaway where a group of 30 odd strangers were cast away on the remote Scottish island of Taransay to live together and build a community. The first few pages of that book, The Teatime Islands could almost have been written about me rather than, as it was, Ben. Memories of laying front down on the floor Sunday teamtime, atlas open, fascinated by the far flung corners of the world and for him in particular, the British Overseas Territories. We'll come back to that a bit later. The world always looked so sm...

1981 Adam Ant was hurtling his way up the charts with Ant Music, Sir Freddie Laker's SkyTrain was giving the big boys of the airline world a run for their money, London got its first Marathon and yours truly took up roller skating! I use the term 'took up' in its loosest sense. My parents had given in to my constant badgering for a pair of roller boots and made up the extra cash needed on top of my birthday/Christmas/spare pocket money that I had been ardently squirrelling away for what seemed like forever. Having an older brother working for a wholesaler finally paid dividends for me when I became the proud owner of a pair of shiny red white and blue mean machines:  4 chunky wheels and a 'reliable' front brake. Time would tell how reliable 'reliable' would be. Quite why I thought this purchase was a good idea has never been clear to me, other than boys! I mean, I had problems staying vertical on the 2 feet I was born with let alone bringing 8 wheels...

So the sugar tax comes into effect today. Great move there by the government in a move to curb obesity and tooth decay. What's not so great is all the fat shaming that comes with the publicity. I swear I speak for every fatty out there that we're all sitting on the edge of our seats watching the news praying out loud "Dear BBC please don't let it be my rolls of blubber or my stonking great big lardy arse that you filmed (but had the courtesy to chop me off at the neck so as not to be identified as anything other than just a big fat blubbery thing) as I was walking, well more like waddling down the High Street with a McDonald's in my left hand and a Mars Bar chaser in my right. Take it from me Mr Minister of Sugars and All Things Sweet, you'll not be making any money out of us lardies with your new tax, we don't drink Full Fat Fizz - nah, we wash our Greggs pasties and doughnuts down with the sugar-free stuff don't we silly. Der! But thanks ...

Girls - Is there anything as satisfying as buying a new item of clothing and finding it has POCKETS?! Boys - you're likely to switch off right now aren't you? Come on, be honest with me. You're all like *smug laugh & adopt Michael McIntyre accent* "Ha!" "What's this talk of pockets? We're boys, ALL our clothes come with pockets. This is why we are boys. We were born to have pockets. And use them. Quit with your pocket talk, girl!" I've always loved a pocket. They're just so handy - and not just for your hands. The trouble I've found, is that there just aren't enough girl clothes with pockets. Useable pockets. Clothing manufacturers must think we girls were born yesterday. They lure us in and tease us with what appears to be a rather splendid looking pocket, or better still, pair of pockets, but, on closer inspection we find we have been duped. You know what I am talking about ladies: fake pockets. A patch. A little square ...

I'd like my funeral to be on a Friday. Monday's are miserable enough aren't they without adding to the desolation. I toyed with the idea of a Wednesday, 'hump' day as it's called by some. But Friday. End of the week. End of a life. I came into this world on a Saturday so it seems fitting to leave it on a Friday. I mean, I guess, or should I say, I hope I would already have left prior to party day, it's not like we can do a quick turnaround here like they do in some parts of the world where weather, religion and sometimes both, dictate. "Ooh she's getting a bit morbid, our Jayno", I hear you cry! No, not really. None of us are here forever, however harsh that sounds, we have to face it at some point. I've experienced more than my fair share of funerals, which, after time gets you thinking about  your own and how that might pan out. The problem we have here is that it happens after we're gone so, unless we make our wishes known, we co...