Flies in ointments

In the near future, The Boys and I will be on a plane heading back to the UK for a week. I usually manage to make it back there at least once every two and a half months or so - almost before I even have a chance anything - but it will have been nearly 14 weeks between visits this time and so I've had a little longer than usual to feel the absence of 'Home' in my life.

It's OK, though. Before I start getting carried away about the prospects of politeness in shops, hosts of golden daffodils, Waitrose, M&S Food, London in spring time, the lush countryside, lambs gamboling in the fields, lamb on my plate (I tried to buy some lamb for a casserole I was planning for 10 people yesterday but lost my nerve when I realised that the meat would have cost me nearly $100...), and street signs I can read in less than 4 seconds, I see that the powers that be have dropped a few flies in the ointment to make sure I don't get too over-excited.

For example, whilst the weather gods have been blessing Blighty with blazing sunshine over the last few days, the forecast is that the temperature will drop back to around 11 or 12degC in honour of our visit. And then there is the current fuss and commotion over the potential of the Unite trade union calling out the drivers of petrol tankers (currently delivering to 90% of the UK's petrol stations) on strike, just around the time we are planning on picking up our hire car to start our whistle-stop tour of hard-to-reach friends and relatives around southern England.

Not forgetting of course the fact that the connecting flight from Moscow to London which Husband organised for the Boys and I in an effort to save cash, and which he expressly promised at the time of booking I would not under any circumstances have to take on my own after last time (as in, without him) proved - by the time he got around to organising his own ticket - to have no availability left.

All together now; 'There'll be blue skies over, the white cliffs of Dover...'

A week in tweets: #ItSeemedLikeAGoodIdeaAtTheTime

The continually falling snow here is just too too depressing at the moment, so in a bid to cheer myself up I'm posting using Jo's 'Week in Tweets' prompt again (here's my offering from last week).

This time she took as her theme the hashtag #WhyIMovedToBristol. Now, yesterday evening I mused on twitter that I might set up a new blog called 'It Seemed Like a Good Idea At The Time' (relax Husband - never going to happen) and whilst I'm not quite crazy enough to fuel my internet addiction in that way, it did seem a shame to waste the title - so I've used it here as a hashtag instead.

All the events in the following tweets are based on actual happenings - just not, perhaps, in the time frame depicted below...

Monday: A near miss with a Boy, a cookie, & a nut allergy. Decide 2 eschew shopbought & make own cookies from now on. #ItSeemedLikeAGoodIdeaAtTheTime

Tuesday: In high dudgeon announce cafeteria boycott to Boys Headmaster from top of Mount Self-Righteous. #ItSeemedLikeAGoodIdeaAtTheTime

Wednesday: Find have no sugar to make cookies, head to shops to restock. Am caught in traffic; late for Boys pick-up. #ItSeemedLikeAGoodIdeaAtTheTime

Thursday; Make 1st batch of cookies; delicious. But Boys refuse to eat them as they contain raisins. #ItSeemedLikeAGoodIdeaAtTheTime

Friday: Make 2nd batch; also delicious. Boys love them and refuse all other forms of sustenance except pizza. #ItSeemedLikeAGoodIdeaAtTheTime

Saturday: Get on scales and discover the *cough* 1 or 2 raisin cookies I saved from bin are still with me: #ItSeemedLikeAGoodIdeaAtTheTime

Sunday: Find Husband-sized hole in cookie jar; now none left. Go to make more - but have run out of sugar... #ItSeemedLikeAGoodIdeaAtTheTime

The Gallery; Extreme Close-Up

This post is for Wk 96 of Tara's Gallery, and the prompt is 'Extreme Close-ups'. Click here to see all the other entries.

It's nearly April, and I know those people back in the UK reading this are currently basking in sunshine (I read a tweet this morning reminding people to put on suncream, for goodness' sake), but here? Not exactly...

So I thought this photograph was appropriate. And yes, you may remember it featuring on The Potty Diaries a couple of years back but I can assure you, it could just as easily have been taken the day before yesterday...

NSPCC's new campaign; 'THE $#*! KIDS SAY'

This weekend we were having lunch with friends and discussing the fun and games in store for us when our children become teenagers. During the conversation one person mentioned how, in a family they knew, the current battle concerned getting the 13 year old daughter to shower. As in, she doesn't want to take a shower. At all.

Everybody else around the table seemed to find this somewhat amusing. Me? Not so much, as this casual comment set a cathedral's-worth of warning bells ringing in my head. I have never met this family, I don't know this family; as I understand it, they don't even live in Moscow, and of course, it could just be this girl is choosing to act out her independence battle over the issue of taking a shower when she's asked to.

Or, it could be that there is a 13 year old girl out there who - for whatever reason - can't bear to face the sight of her naked body in the shower.

You might think 'Oh, she'll get over it. It's just a passing thing...' and you could be right. But growing up I had friends who went through such phases, and now I have friends who's daughters have been / are going through similar issues and let me tell you, these early signals rarely lead to anything good.

I'm writing about this story for two reasons. Firstly, because it's been playing on my mind; should I call the friend who mentioned it and tell of her my completely unfounded concerns about a girl who I've never met and know absolutely nothing about? Perhaps I should just forget about it, because after all, it's really none of my business...

And secondly I'm writing about this because I opened my inbox yesterday to find an email about the NSPCC's new campaign designed to encourage those of us with concerns about somebody else's child, to do something about them. They wrote:

'In 2011, a record number of almost 45,000 people across the UK contacted the NSPCC because they were worried about a child. Around half of these cases were so serious they warranted immediate action. But a new report from the charityʼs helpline service found that 56% of these serious calls were from people who had been concerned about a child for at least a month, and over a quarter had waited at least six months.'

They have released a clip on YouTube to support this campaign, and I've embedded it below. It's called 'THE S#*! KIDS SAY' and it's powerful stuff - I recommend that you don't watch it with children around.

Will I make the call to my friend after watching this short? Whilst I don't for one minute think that shower issue is in any way related to the situations shown on this clip, I think that yes, I probably will.

Sometimes you just have to let it go...

I have done something which you may think foolish. The shortlist for the Britmums 'Brilliance in Blogging' Awards was published on Friday and I'm on it, as one of the contenders for the 'Lit!' Award.

This is extremely flattering, especially when you read the details for this category:

'Most blogs have writing at their core. But some blogs feature writing that makes it hard to stop reading. Whether a blog reads like a compelling bestseller or gorgeous poetry, this award celebrates the words on the page.'

Wow. Thank you to whoever decided that 'The Potty Diaries' fits the bill and nominated it; I am totally blown away to be on this list.

But. But. Here's the thing. I don't actually think that I write the best of the 20 blogs featured on the short-list. So, do I do what I have done in the past when I've been in this situation and embark on a publicity campaign in the hope of winning votes when I actually don't believe that mine should be the blog to win it? Previous awards have shown that approach to be something of a waste of time, after all, with voters insisting on agreeing with me that yes, there are better blogs than mine out there - and voting for them instead. Dammit.

I can assure you this post is not the result of false modesty on my part. I give good blog, I know that, but I should do; I've been at it for a while and hit 1,000 posts at the beginning of this year. If I'm not capable of stringing a few words together in an interesting and engaging way by now, when will I be?

Despite the fact it is ostensibly anonymous (ha!), I am not afraid to broadcast the fact that The Potty Diaries is MY blog. I write it, I own it, and any rewards that I garner from it are, I think, not through sheer luck; they are rewards I have worked for and of which I'm proud.

But when push comes to shove, I don't believe mine is the best blog on the shortlist for the Brilliance In Blogging Lit! Award - so I've voted for the one that I think is, instead.*

Foolish and defeatist? Or realistic and sticking to my principles?

Whichever it may be, it's all OK with me. And this approach does free me from spending time trying to come up with new and interesting ways of asking you to vote for me over the next few weeks**, and instead to spend it writing about important and topical world issues like My Week In Tweets, supermarket shopping in Moscow, how not to celebrate International Women's Day, and to show you pictures of dead fish and a dog's bottom instead.

So; a win-win situation all round, I would say...

*Click here to see the shortlist and vote

** Although you will perhaps have noted that I have pasted the BIB badge on the sidebar of The Potty Diaries because I am, when all is said and done, bloody proud to have my name on that list...

Silent Sunday

My week in tweets...

I've jumped on Jo at Slummy Single Mummy's bandwagon, to bring you a week in tweets.*

* A quick note for those who don't indulge in the filthy habit of tweeting. First off, what do you do with all that spare time? Secondly, there is a limit of 140 characters (including spaces) per tweet, hence the shortness of each message. Thirdly, what follows may not be entirely true. The best tweets are frequently exaggerated versions of reality. But then again, so are some blogs, so same old, same old there then...

Monday: Freezing o/s so I post on hypothetical issue of wearing fur in cold climates in hope of warming up with a heated debate. No takers, dammit.

Tuesday: On snowy forest walk, I spot a dog wearing snow suit & bootees, but with crown jewels left proudly on display. Seems cruel to me...

Wednesday: On weekly shop, consider getting into a spat with v. square babushka over last broccoli. She resembles prow of a ship; decide best not.

Thursday: Boy2 collides with climbing frame in the school playground; the frame wins. Apparently he is now off games FOR EVER. Or til gym tomorrow.

Friday: Spend hrs slaving over pizza (dough from scratch & everything) only to have Boys tell me they ‘like it 50%’. Back to Dr Oetker nxt wk.

Saturday: Climb on scales and decide to fetch my glasses. Take glasses off again as they clearly add to the problem. Ruddy left-over pizza.

Sunday: We are out of Diet Coke. Panic, & break into emergency chocolate to counteract caffeine low. Try to ignore the irony of this act...