My blog posts are like bloomers

I just can't seem to blog easily anymore. Things happen, but I have much less to say about it all. Well, that I'm prepared to commit to the blogosphere anyway.

The kids are growing up and I'm less inclined to write about them in case it comes back to haunt them.

Things happen but our life isn't that remarkable. We're all healthy, we're not especially wealthy or especially poor, no major drama is playing out in our lives.

Life bumbles on but we're not able to spend out on lots of trips out or holidays. I don't craft although Missy Woo likes to make things. We bake, but we make other people's recipes so I can't blog them without infringing copyright.

I have opinions but I'm not necessarily sure anyone wants to read it or whether I'd cause an uproar for my terrible views. Sometimes, I end up ranting in my head and then mentally slap myself for being so judgemental.

What's left? Not a lot. I know I will never be no1 at blogging and having the world fall at my feet. I just don't have the time. But you know what? I'm OK with that. I'm glad I've had this time in a way - it proves that blogging really is just a hobby to me; if I was top dog, I'd be feeling the pressure to write lots of posts and I just don't.

You'll just have to wait. Having mastered making bloomer bread recently thanks to Paul Hollywood, taking your time makes for a better, more enjoyable product. My blog posts are like bloomers (not that sort) - I'm hoping the wait is going to be worth it.

The Gallery - My blog

When Tara says she's set a tough challenge, my heart normally sinks and I don't feel any better after I've found out what it is, spending the weekend scratching my head and then scrabbling around at the last minute to produce something. Heck, last week, it was so late, I didn't even start the post until Wednesday afternoon! Well, this week, for a change, I looked at the theme for this week and thought "I can do that!" straight away. It was a gimme - well, for me anyway.

For the theme is "My blog". In other words, I must produce one photograph that sums up my blog. With a blog name like mine, that's easy. The only problem was putting it together and making it work as a photo. That included making cakes! I really hope Tara appreciate the lengths I have gone to this week for her - no point and snap for me, this has taken a good hour or more of preparation. I think that demonstrates true dedication to the cause.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you my blog - The Five Fs.

To represent each of the five Fs, we have:

- Family - pictures of Monkey and Missy Woo at school and nursery respectively
- Football - one of my old Preston North End replica shirts
- Food - banana and chocolate cupcakes
- Fitness - my new trainers, which was a Mother's Day present from the children
- Fun - one of the toys we've been lucky enough to review recently

The Five Fs. The five things in my life that I am most passionate about. The five things that I (mostly) blog about. One photo, five Fs. Done!


If you have a blog, how would you depict yours in one photo?

Happy Blogoversary

Photo credit: melodi2

Today, The Five Fs blog is one year old. One whole year of me, wittering on about all sorts of stuff. It started with So, this is me, which was more of an arrival with a whimper than a bang. I remember feeling very, very self-conscious when I posted links to it on Twitter. After all, I was in awe of all the fantastic bloggers that I'd recently discovered. How could I ever match up to them? I felt pretty dumb, to be honest. What right had I to do this? I felt like everyone was going to laugh at me. They didn't. Well, not to my face anyway.

200-odd posts later, I'm still here. I still feel like a newbie to the blogosphere, and compared to some bloggers that I look up to, I am - they've been blogging years. However, it's become apparent from chats I've had on Twitter in the last few weeks that I'm regarded as an old hand. Old being the operative word. It's very flattering, but deep down, I feel that I'm still learning, which is good, because I like learning. I'm odd like that.

Blogging was a slow burn at first - I only posted infrequently, but now I think about blogging all the time. I see blog posts in everything, but thankfully, most of them never see the light of day. Lucky you.

I intended to blog about the five Fs in my life when I started (hence the name) but when I look back, I blog about football far less than I thought I would do. I still don't post lots of recipes but I seem to blog about food in more general terms quite a bit. I wasn't blogging that much about fitness but since I started My Fitness Story... earlier this year, it's had an at least weekly presence on my blog. I'm in awe of the guest posters who've taken the time to tell their stories. A huge thank to all of them for subjecting themselves to public scrutiny. (And if you want to have a go, feel free to get in touch, slots are always available!)

A lot of my posts have centred around the children, which is as it should be, since they are growing and changing, frustrating and delighting me - all in equal measure - every single day. I don't always blog about the bad times, I don't always blog about the really good times, but some of the little details are often mentioned that I would probably otherwise forget. Like the conversation I had with Missy Woo yesterday. She told me that she had a gingerbread man for pudding at school then went onto say "But he got up, jumped off the plate and ran away up the field so I had to go and chase it so I could eat it" which was just brilliant imagination, and made me laugh.

In the time I've been blogging, I've discovered that writing funny posts is a hell of a lot harder than serious ones. I've discovered I write long posts that I have to edit right down. I've discovered that editing them can sometimes turn them into completely different posts. I've discovered I like writing a lot more than I thought. And that what I think will make a good blog post sometimes doesn't at all, and vice versa.

And I have discovered that people do read my stuff. That, for me, makes it all worth it. When people say to me they love my blog or a particular post, I'm blown away. If I say I'm proud, that makes me sound big-headed but I don't think I've ever done anything like this that's been so successful. I have to say thank you to all who read or support this blog in whichever way, shape or form. You all rock. Fact.

A special thank you must go to Garry, who writes The Blog Up North, who started me blogging by convincing me to write some guest posts for him and then lying being kind about them enough to inspire me to start this blog. He is the person I turn to when I need advice on all things blogwise, he's one of my regular commenters and gives me encouragement when I'm doubting myself or my blogging. I blame would like to thank him for everything he's done this last year. He's a better writer than me, and ten times funnier, but I'll let him off.

It's been an amazing experience, this blogging. Through it, I've met some lovely people, some of whom I'm now proud to call close friends. I've been invited to places I never even dreamed I'd visit. It has made me laugh out loud but I've also cried buckets at times. The good and the bad, the happy and the sad, all of it has enriched my life.

I may feel like the newbie for a while yet, but I know that blogging has me hooked. There should be more blogoversaries because the ride is far from over. I hope you'll stick around.

Why not celebrate my blogoversary by popping over to enter my blogoversary competition? 

Nothing to see here, move on along now

TN3TR6KZ7MBN

Happy now, Technorati? You'd better be!

A century of blogging

Well, kind of....

Blogger tells me that this is my 100th published post in 212 days. Wow, I do go on, don't I? I surprise myself actually - not that I can go on, more that I have turned some of my "going ons" into posts. When I started this blog, I really wasn't sure whether I had much to say. I'm still not sure I've fulfilled the original brief that I set myself, given that I don't blog about football all that much, nor do I talk about fitness that often. But I do blog about food, and you're probably bored to death hearing me talk about my family and the fun bit - well, that is just part of some of my posts. I hope.

But there we go. I've made it to 100. At first, I really didn't know what I was doing and just wittered on a bit. I lost a friend in March and a month later, her husband too which inspired me to blog, but the rest of April is just recipes and a couple of memes where others had tagged me. And then I stopped - I barely blogged the whole of May after going away three weekends out of four and being busy for the fourth weekend. But it saw my first post for the Gallery at Sticky Fingers to which I regularly contribute. In June, it caused to inspire me to write this post about my Dad. It was the hardest post I have written, and I cried buckets in the process of doing so. But somehow, and I can't explain exactly how, what or why, it fired me up to write more. The bug had bit.

July saw Missy Woo's 4th birthday, and although I suffered a bit of blogger's block, I tinkered with the look of the blog and changed it pretty much as you see it today with a few minor alterations. I also wrote a meme post about how you know you're a mum when various things happen and I wrote my first Dear So and So post, an idea started by Kat from 3 Bedroom Bungalow which was fun. Kat stopped DSS for a while but has now revived it so expect more posts from me in future as I find writing the letters both cathartic and hilarious at the same time.

August was an even bigger month. I was asked to be a Toys R Us Toyologist and so started to be sent lots of toys to review. And then, I took part in a Daily Mail article (not that I knew that it was for them at first) and they came to do me over so I ended up having a late (and so far singular) foray into "modelling". And I blogged about my weight loss progress.

Life changed completely in September when Missy Woo started school. She loves it totally and they love her. In truth, she was ready last year but had to wait her turn. September being back to school month caused me to reflect on our experience choosing a school for the children. And I started my very own Twitterholic meme which led to some great posts on lots of other blogs, all of which I enjoyed reading because I am nosey curious and have an inquiring mind. I wrote 21 posts in September so I think it's safe to say by then that I'd hit my stride.

October saw me make another big change in my life when I decided to reduce some of my volunteering commitments by stepping down from one role. In lighter moments, I wrote about my success as a Slummy Mummy and about my boobs - that post turned out to be particularly well read (must be the pic of Marilyn Monroe). I also gave a gift to Victoria as she left to go round the world and gave you my Desert Island Discs. I also ran a competition, for which I had an overwhelming 200+ entries.

And now, it's November. A week of toy reviews was leaving me flagging a bit but I took inspiration from other blogs and came up with the A to Z of my browser for this weekend. And that was post number 99.

So, here I am. I started out thinking I'd have a go, and 100 posts later, I'm hooked. I can't imagine not blogging - it adds an extra dimension to my experience of social networking that I previously only observed from the sidelines. I feel part of something, which is something that is often a bit of an issue for me. (And yes, I've blogged about that too!) Sometimes, I am up late - largely because I can't resist the hubbub of Twitter on a busy evening which distracts me - willing myself to finish a blog post so I can go to bed. A bit like now.  But I wouldn't swop it for the world.

Most importantly, for me anyway, I'm having fun. Thank you if you have been part of that fun over this century of blogging through comments here or on Twitter, or by writing a post linked to one of mine. It has been a blast. And long may that continue.

A gift for Victoria

One week today, a lovely Twitter friend of mine is setting off with her husband and her three children on an amazing adventure. Victoria Wallop is off on a round the world trip for nine whole months. She's been blogging about their preparations, about why they are doing this trip with three quite young children and will continue to blog during their trip at It's a Small World After All, where you can also read about the route they will be taking. 

In honour of her departure, another Twitter friend, Julia from What Will Julia Do Next? came up with the idea that we all give Victoria a virtual present before she goes. It has to be virtual because they have no space in their backpacks for anything other than absolute essentials. No space for fripperies and trinkets. 

So, what do I choose for this lovely lady that hasn't already been done? She's been given music, a taste and smell of home, friendship (two lots actually), sleep, and a rousing send off by the Smalls already. I could give her cake but that would take up space, make a mess and go off. I could sing a song but I wouldn't inflict that on you. So, instead, I have two things to offer you, Victoria. 

The first is a wish. Actually it's a blessing. An Irish one, for they frequently manage to have the best lines. It's a wish that I hope will set the tone of your trip.

May the road rise to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
And rains fall soft upon your fields
And until we meet again
May God hold you in the palm of his hand

The second is this: 

It's your guardian angel, Victoria. One to watch over you and yours during your fantastic adventure. To keep you safe, and help you get things back on track when things do go wrong, as they inevitably will. To remind you that your friends back home are thinking of you and wishing you the best of times, and looking forward to your return. 

Bon voyage, Victoria. Have a bloody great one, and keep in touch.

I was going to blog tonight.

But it's late. I have tried starting a couple of posts. They went nowhere, so they got trashed.

I know now what I want to blog about, but it's late. I am sat here in my chair, my eyes genuinely drooping, and I'm all restless - which, for me, is always a bad sign. And there goes a massive yawn. My jaw nearly fell off.

Sleep wants to steal me away tonight. I can't even type. I've typed some words about 4 times and still not got it right.

So, you'll have to wait. Sorry about that. I'll try to make it worth it. Right now, I just have to sleep.

Come back soon, there might then be something coherent for you to read then.

Night.

I am a Twitterholic!

I have been considering starting a Twitter meme for a while and I'm just getting around to it now. That's the problem you have when you have too many ideas for blog posts in your head.

I decided to start this, because I love Twitter more than is healthy for a grown woman. I had a slow start but it's now reached fever pitch, and there is no hope for me; I'm hooked. I am a Twitterholic So, I have concocted a few questions about Twitter and you, which I hope will make for interesting blog-type reading. And of course, in time-honoured fashion, I get to go first. Eyes down, look in, ladies and gents, here are the votes of the kateab jury.

When did you join Twitter? (You can find the exact date at bwitterday.com)

28th November 2008.

Why did you join Twitter?

I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I'd read an increasing number of press articles about it and was intrigued. However, I made the rookie mistake of assuming it was like Facebook (which I'd joined early 2008 having resisted for a long time) and so protected my tweets for quite a while. It did mean that I didn't get it at first. It was like tweeting into the abyss. I don't think I got my second follower until February! A few months later, I got Tweetdeck and was hooked.

Who is/was your first or oldest follower? Who did you follow first? Tell me all about them. (firstfivefollowers.com will give you this info)

These are one and the same person for me. It is Blaise Grimes-Viort who tweets here. I have known Blaise for 6 years or so, when he joined Handbag.com as their communities manager, which is now part of National Magazines. I was a regular on their discussion boards and was one of the volunteers who helped to moderate the boards - dealing with spam, abuse and so on. I also helped on a new discussion board which Blaise set up connected to some websites, aimed at mums-to-be and new mums, until NatMags decided to close it down. Gah.

I don't really use Handbag any more. I stopped visiting because most of the users I knew stopped visiting after an upgrade radically changed the boards for the worse. We all found new homes to go to, but I still kept in touch with Blaise via Twitter. Blaise tweets some personal stuff but mostly tweets information about being a community manager (and job vacancies, if you're interested). He left National Magazines last week and is now Head of Social Media Services & Engagement for Webjam.

The other thing I know about Blaise is that he has a famous sister. She's a supermodel - reckon that could be a bit of a conversation stopper! Her name is Benoit, better known as Ben Grimes. It means nothing to me as I am so not into fashion but she appears in celeb features.

Do you have any celebrities following you, or have you ever had a DM from a celeb? (This was inspired by Paula getting a DM from John Cusack - still jealous!)

Erm, I have a couple of radio type people (the lovely Helen Blaby and Phil Williams) who have become followers somehow. And the lovely Dhruv Baker, winner of Masterchef 2010, got talked into following me.

I did once get a DM from a former Apprentice contestant, offering telephone numbers and an email address. They weren't for me, but for someone who is not on Twitter. I was just the messenger girl. Honest, m'lud.

I had a real phase of following celebrities in my early days on Twitter. I do still follow some but these days, I am more interested in interacting with people, which is hard for celebrities who get thousands of replies to every tweet. I keep some for banter, amusement and nosiness, because that's what following a celebrity is all about.

If you could follow anyone not on Twitter - alive, dead, real or fictional - on Twitter, who would it be?

I think it would have to be someone literary, just to see how they get on fitting their ideas into 140 characters. So it's between two authors. The first is Thomas Hardy, whose books I read as a challenge, because the language was so difficult. Most of his books are fairly depressing so I can't imagine his tweets would be a laugh a minute. The other is Kahlil Gibran, who wrote The Prophet, one of my favourite books. I could imagine him tweeting some great lines from that and his other works, all of them guaranteed to delight and uplift.

Which came first - Twitter or blog? 

Definitely Twitter. It is because of Twitter that I got into blogging, through "meeting" bloggers on there who got me to write, leading me to set up this blog. The same people regularly give me advice, offer their opinion or input, and for that I will be forever grateful. It just so happens that Twitter is the perfect platform for telling the world about my blog, so I can't imagine blogging without Twitter. Twitter also helps me find some great blogs, some of which are in my blogroll down the right hand side of the page.

So, that's me. It now falls to me to pass on this Twitterholic meme to some other great bloggers. I am therefore tagging to receive my wonderful Twitterholic award:

Garry at The Blog Up North
Wendy at Very Bored in Catalunya
Joanna at At Home With Mrs M
Karen at If I Could Escape
Kirsty at Gone Bananas

to have a go. The rules, such as they are, are:

1. Nick the badge at the top, and mention the person who tagged you.
2. Answer the questions. (Duh!)
3. Tag some other great twitterholics bloggers.

Alternatively, tag yourself, mention me in your blog post and link to it in the comments below. I'd love to hear about your Twitter experience.

Beautiful Blogger

Apparently, that is me. The lovely Mrs M from At Home with Mrs M tagged me in a meme which means I get this lovely badge. She and I go back a long way - pre-blog days and I thoroughly recommend her blog which contains lots of lovely recipes as well as other great posts.

I now have to tell you seven little known facts about me and pass the award onto other bloggers. Looking at Mrs M's, I may well be nicking some stuff off her as we seem to have a few things in common. 

1. I am left handed.

Both my parents were naturally left handed, but my Mum was forced to write right handed at school. My half sister is also left handed. I assumed one of our children would also be left handed. Missy Woo showed signs of it as she was favouring her left for ages and swopping pens from hand to hand but eventually settled on being right handed. Which is probably a blessing in disguise as it can be a nuisance. 

2. I love the colour purple.

I don't know why, I just do. I have tops in just about every shade of purple going. I have got a dress in the colour, and even a mac in a purpley lilac colour! I have also seen a purple bra I'm lusting after. I love wearing purple - it gives me a lift.

3. I had my appendix out when I was 4.

Having had grumbling stomach pains for a while, I fell ill with bad stomach pains on Hallowe'en 1969. I remember my Mum sending me to bed, then the family doctor coming to examine me and deciding I need to go to hospital. An ambulance was called and I seem to remember they put the blue lights on for me. (Whether they didn't want to alarm me or not, I don't know). At the hospital, they asked me if I wanted gas or an injection to make me sleep. As I was needle averse, I asked for gas. They made me count to ten to check it was working. I remember getting to 4 and thinking "This is never going to work". I never got past 7 and woke up the next morning, my appendix having been removed in the early hours of 1st November. Apparently, I was very lucky as they removed it before it burst, but only just. 

4. I love cheese.

This is one I have to control as I'm trying to be good foodwise. Given the chance, I'd have loads in the house, although there is nearly always some, at the very least extra mature cheddar and some parmesan. I do love blue cheese, tho I am the only one in the house who does, my favourite being Blacksticks Blue, which I love more than is unhealthy given that it is JUST a cheese.

5. I share a birthday with Nigella Lawson. 

She's older than me by a few years. Can you see the similarities?!

6. I have 9 and a half toes.

My left little toe was crooked when I was small so when I was 11, I had an(other) operation to straighten it as it was hereditary. The bone in the toe was broken and the toe stitched to the next one. It doesn't bother me much except my feet look rubbish in flip flops etc. Someone once called me a freak once for having toes like that, but he was just plain nasty. We all have our little imperfections; this was mine.

7. I hate rhubarb.

This appears to be a family thing, but we all dislike rhubarb. I've tried to like it but it just isn't something I'm meant to love. And never, ever, plant rhubarb  in your garden. The only thing we worked out stopped it growng was to concrete it over. Damned stuff,. 

And now, I must tag some more....

Dawnie at Knees Up Mother Brown

Karen at If I Could Escape

and Kirsty at Gone Bananas!

Have fun and enjoy. 

Odd One Out

That's me, you see. If ever there were three words that summed up most of my life, those are the ones. Odd one out.

I have mentioned before that my sister taught me to read when I was 2 and I could read by the time I started school. This marked me out as the "clever one". I was the only one in the family to go to grammar school, having passed my eleven plus, so I went to a different school to my sisters. I was the first person that I know of in our extended family ever to go to University.

That's me in the centre.

When I went to university, I chose a course at a separate, and much smaller, college some 10 miles away from the main campus. We were considered the oddballs by the rest of the University - country bumpkins, in fact, because were the Agrics. And because I didn't come from a farming background, and made a final year choice that had only ever been chosen twice before, set me out as different again. I was definitely the odd one out. Imagine 3 overlapping circles in a Venn diagram; I was the tiny bit in the middle where all 3 overlapped and everyone moved around me but not with me.

And so it went on. I was the odd one out as I went into accountancy and then IT after graduation. It has meant I had little in common with the people I studied with and haven't really kept up much contact, apart from a couple that I speak to occasionally. I've been odd one out in jobs by virtue of having to do a long distance commute - like to London from the Hampshire coast  - and therefore being "not from round here". That does have its benefits as you rarely bump into work colleagues outside work.

I even became an odd one out when I became a mother. I wouldn't change my kids for the world but there aren't many mums with children their age in their 40s. Monkey was born when I was 40 and Missy Woo when I was 41. Some of the mums of Monkey's classmates are more than 20 years younger than me. Most of the mums I know online too are in their 30s and a few in their 20s. And to top it all, 11 years ago this week, I moved to Lancashire from Buckinghamshire, so I am in exile and therefore a peculiarity to both the locals here and people from my hometown. My accent gives me away to both, unmissably southern with a few flattened vowels.

Being the odd one out is a recurring theme but I am undecided about how I feel about it. I made my choices, and I'm happy with them. I can hardly change a lot of them so I may as well get on with it, but I choose not to regret anyway. But suddenly, a comment - innocent and not intended to be hurtful  - will remind me that I am the odd one out and I feel like the the outsider looking in.

I've thought about this many times. Some of the things that mark me out as different just are - I can't change them because they are a part of me, of who I am, and makes me distinctive, perhaps memorable. Some of them are however related to conscious choices and I wonder if there is something within me that likes to set my own path in life, that likes to be a bit different sometimes and not to follow the norm - even though it is not wildly unconventional. I've hardly run off with a circus, have I?

But then, there is the part of me that wants to belong, that feels left out sometimes, and that doesn't know how to feel like I belong; if indeed, there is anything to be done. I'm guessing you would never know this if you met me as I hide it well. People say I appear confident and outgoing. I will join in but deep down, something within me is saying "Do you really belong here? Do these people really need you muscling in on their fun? Are they all mentally rolling their eyes at me?"

Getting involved with things has helped that sense of being left out. Becoming an NCT member has been so good, for me personally anyway. Most of the active members in our branch have moved to a new area and are lacking the support mechanism offered by close friends and family. They have provided the support network for me over the last 6 years, I've volunteered for them most of that time, and until Missy Woo started school, I felt like I belonged somewhere, and has rooted me to the community where I now live. However, we have little need of that support now that Missy Woo is at school. School itself is beginning to fill the void that will be left, but at the same time, I am conscious of taking on too much and getting involved with both at the same time.

So that's me, the odd one out. It is a part of my identity that has seeped through my life right from childhood, that has weaved itself into the story of my life. A lot of the time I love it, but sometimes I hate it and just want to be part of the gang.

Dear So and So - nursery, dog owners, Daily Mail and Blogladesh

Dear nursery staff,

Thank you so much. Missy Woo has had a ball there for the last 3 and a bit years and Monkey had a great time too. We're all going to miss you but we're going to pop back to say hello for Missy Woo to show off her school uniform.

Hope you liked the cake, Monkey and Missy Woo's Mummy.

Dear children,

I am going to miss you when you go away tomorrow. No, really, I am. It's just you sneaking out of bed early and trashing various rooms of the house that I won't miss. And the noise. And the constant demands.

Be good children now for Granny and Grandad.

Lots of love, Mummy

Dear dog owner,

If you notice my child freaking out because of your dog, even if it is on a lead, please attempt to move away from or avoid said child rather making it worse by marching towards the small whirl of arms, legs, screams and red face with dog. Don't make it worse or I'll need your address to send you the therapist's bill.

Yours not-so-faithfully,

Kate

Dear Daily Mail,

I really do wonder. Changing copy to put words in my mouth and then not allowing me to comment on the article online. Hmm. And you're the ones that bang on about freedom of speech, and the Big Brother culture. Pot. Kettle. Black!

No love, Me.

Dear blog readers,

You, on the other hand, have been wonderful (again) (see comments). Your support means the world to me. I'm going to stop banging on about it now or your collective heads won't get through the door.

Love and kisses*, Kate.

Dear Josie, Sian and Eva,

The very best of luck on your Blogladesh trip.

Safe journey, Kate.

*Kisses are non-transferable and non-redeemable as real kisses. I'm not kissing the bloody lot of you!

Dear So and So - diversions, children, social networking, yogurt, blog readers - and Asda again!

Not done this for a few weeks, but thought I'd do it now that Kat's back at 3 Bedroom Bungalow after her trip home. So, let's get down to some serious catharsis...

Dear urban planners,

Just who had the idea to shut the shortest of stretches of road with little warning, requiring the biggest diversions? First, I have to detour taking Monkey to his football on Monday (and now divert every day) then I go to take him to swimming on Wednesday and found another, requiring a 3 mile diversion. I know you want nice smooth roads - and God knows, so do I - but seriously? Are you out to annoy me or sommat?

Yours frustratedly,

Kate

Dear Asda,

Yes, it's me again. I've only been to the store for top up shops recently. You want to know why? Yep, that's right - no cafe! Please, please, please - how much do I have to beg before you put one back in? There must be plenty of mums with babies that don't go there because feeding is not easy. Or hungry kids. Or just hungry. Or thirsty.

Please sort it out. Pretty please?

Yours even more thirstily,

Kate

Dear children,

When we say "Stay in bed in the morning", that's what we mean. We don't mean "Get up to go to the toilet and then go wake up your sibling, even at 4am". There is a reason you're tired and it ain't anything to do with me.

Love,

Mummy

Dear Facebook,

Stop messing around with things, and pretending they're "enhancements". And no, I don't want to show all my photos and personal information to the whole frickin' world. Oh, and you're not Twitter, ya hear?

Sort it out,

Kate

Dear Twitter,

I love you just the way you are. Please don't try and turn into Facebook. You aren't and you never will be.  You do it so much better than them. New "features" should be added advisedly and only if it REALLY enhances your users' experiences of it. And I can't wait for your new data centre,

Yours hoping I don't see the fail whale again,

Kate

Dear Onken,

Coconut Yogurt. OMG! I love it. And you. But I hate you - I want to eat all of it in one go and I'm trying to lose weight. Can you not do smaller tubs?

Yours lasciviously,

Me

And finally......

Dear blog readers,

Thank you. I was really worried about publishing this post with pictures and all on my blog. But I did and you made such lovely comments, both on here and on Twitter, that I'm so glad I did.

I love you all,

Kate x

The Five Fs gets an award!

I got given an award the other day, by Garry at Blog Up North. The award he's given me is a Blog of Substance award, although I've noticed, in the slightly obsessive way that I do, that the original badge/award is called "A Blog With Substance". To be honest, I am slightly amazed. This blog has only been going for a few months, and I didn't post on it for nearly a month so really, it's only a couple of months old. To be recognised by a fellow blogger of having substance is quite something. Obviously, he sees something I don't although it is his fault I started blogging as I wrote a couple of guest posts for him back in March and started this blog a week or two later after the second one.

I feel like I am still finding my way in the blogosphere and the blog is evolving as I go. Already, I've noticed that out of the five Fs I claim to blog about, I've blogged about food most, family next, football hardly at all (which is bad considering I've been watching the World Cup), fitness hardly ever, and nothing really fun. In fact, some of my recent posts could be considered quite maudlin and self-pitying and not really fitting into any of these five. But I've enjoyed creating them, and been thrilled with the response I have had from readers. I love the comments, so please, please keep them coming. We all need validation of what we're doing and people commenting positively on my writing really does that for me, and I don't care if it's good or bad, the fact it has generated a comment is enough for me.

So, thanks go to Garry for seeing something in this blog that makes it worthy of a read. (PS Your cheque's in the post ;) ) A condition of accepting this award is that I must sum up my blogging philosophy in five words. Five words?! Good God, have you read my posts? Five words is almost an impossibility for me! I haven't even thought about this until now. So, I've had a think and killed off some brain cells and come up with this:

Write it from your heart. 

My most popular posts - not just my opinion, I'm judging this by the number of page views and comments I've received from readers - have been when I have done just that. I've written some posts and been on the point of not publishing them but have decided to let the readers decide if they are worth bothering about. They've felt too personal to be of interest to others, but they seem to strike a chord.They have given me confidence in my ability to create something that others enjoy reading. I may not always get it right, but I do not expect to; I am learning. And it's my blog so I'll do what I want. ;)

Anyway, it now falls to me to pass on this award to other blogs of real substance. There are loads I enjoy reading (and I really should update my blogroll) but here we go:

Mrs M of At Home With Mrs M (great food, and better photography than me)
Joanne at JAG's Fitness Blog (inspirational, also with some great food)
Wendy at Very Bored in Catalunya (who rarely fails to make me laugh)
Christine at Thinly Spread 

So now they have to:

1. Thank the blogger who awarded it to them.
2. Summarise their blogging philosophy in five words (and share it with your readers of course!).
3. Nominate some other bloggers of substance.

I could have added lots of blogs. I find new ones to read every day and I'm rubbish at remembering to visit them all so sorry for not mentioning you all. (That's why I love Twitter - follow your favourite bloggers, and they'll let you know when they have published a new post.) Some of my favourite blogs have already nominated so it seems silly to do it all over again. Please don't be offended if your blog is not here. If you like, add a comment to this post, so we can all find you. Hopefully, soon, I'll get round to updating my blogroll too.

And so, I'm off to bed, clutching my award. I think I might, in the time-honoured tradition of celebs, put it in the downstairs toilet after I've slept with it, nonchalantly but ostentatiously so that people see it are moved to comment on a) the award and b) its placement.

And whilst I'm here, I'd like to thank my agent......

The Hat Lady

I think about you, every now and then. Probably not often enough. You deserve better.

I first saw you on the platform at Southampton Parkway station. It was early morning, you were waiting for a train, and you were wearing a hat. Not just any hat or a cap - one of those tricorn style hats made fashionable by Diana in the 80s, white with lots of feathers and a bit of netting. I think I sniggered. It looked incongruous for the time and the place; some of your fellow passengers stared at you. They couldn't help it. It looked like you were off to Ascot or somewhere else on the social circuit. I came to know you weren't.

I soon came to realise that that is what you did every day. You wore hats. In my twenties, I thought it was ridiculous but now I'm older, I understand. Wearing hats gave you pleasure, so wore hats you did.  You had the confidence of maturity not to worry about the opinions of others. You wore hats every day and it marked you out. The regular commuters didn't stare, they were used to seeing you. I didn't see you every day, but every time we got the same train, there you were, with a hat, always slightly over the top, feathery but not outlandish - just different. It stayed on whilst you were on the train. To the regulars, you were the Hat Lady. I didn't know your name. I am not sure anyone did. Long distance commuting is often more sociable but I don't think you ever spoke to anyone.

And then, one cold December day, I wasn't on the train but at home. I was listening to the radio when there was a newsflash. A crash between two trains at Clapham. Our trains went through Clapham! After a while, as more information became known, I worked out that one of the trains involved was one I could have been on, that stopped at our station. Some of my commuting friends would be on that train. It was impossible to get information quickly as it was before mobile phones were commonplace. I had to go away on business without knowing if they were OK and it became apparent there were many fatalities. The pictures on the news and in the papers were terrible, awful. That particular service was always an old style train and the trains involved just crumpled like concertinas.

Later that week, I received news of my commuting friends. Lots of them were on different trains, behind or ahead of the crash. Two women that I knew by name died on the train, in the buffet car. The person that told me also said "And remember the Hat Lady? She was a victim too". You had gone. I can't imagine the horror of those moments at the point of impact nor do I know whether anyone suffered. I hope that you didn't. I hope no-one did.

Dying gave you a name other than Hat Lady. I still don't remember it exactly but I was looking at a list of the victims' names once and I could pick out your name, knowing it was definitely you. It may have been your name but it meant nothing to me and to many others. In my head, you are the Hat Lady, simple as. I can only vaguely remember what you looked like. Over time, you have come to resemble, in my head at least, someone else I know who has broadly the same features as you - slim, dark-haired, smiling.

A long time has passed since you died. They've even stopped commemorating the anniversary although there is a permanent memorial to the 35 people that died as a result of the disaster overlooking the crash site. I try to mark the date every year in any small way I can because you all deserve to be remembered. Against other tragedies, you feel pushed aside, forgotten. It seems unfair that your deaths seem to have counted for less. Hell, it made me angry when I read they were letting the memorial gardens get overgrown. So wrong and disrespectful - and ironically, by the people that let you down in so many ways and allowed it to happen.

You would probably be a pensioner now if you hadn't died. I don't know anything about your life, but I can imagine the happy retirement you could have had. Life playing with grandchildren, perhaps. Foreign travels to far-flung places, maybe. All topped off with fantastic hats. I like to think your taste would be more up to date now, but no-one will ever know for sure.

I knew nothing of your life, and I never spoke to you. I think we may have smiled and nodded once or twice, but that's it. And yet, to me, you are the symbol of the events of 12th December 1988, because of the expression of joie de vivre you exhibited by wearing those hats, plus the pointless and avoidable events that led to your death.

I think about you, every now and then, Hat Lady. Probably not often enough. As I said, you deserve better. But I know that wherever you are, you're wearing a hat, loving it and brightening the day of those around you.

(Note: this post was prompted by the 5th anniversary of the 7/7 bombings. Every time there is a big commemoration of a terrible event, I think back to Clapham because it was so close to me personally. Events to mark the passing of 20 years were held in Lockerbie, which happened just 9 days afterwards and somewhat overshadowed it, and in Liverpool to commemorate the Hillsborough disaster. And yet, they officially ended the public commemoration of Clapham after a decade. I wonder how the families remember their loved ones now - turning up to a memorial with overgrown gardens down an embankment left to run wild by Network Rail. It feels somehow wrong to me, that their deaths apparently matter less than others. We need to be reminded, both of the events and of those who are no longer with us.


And if you are too young to remember that day, you can read more about what happened here.)

This post was submitted to The Boy and Me's ShowOff ShowCase on 30th April 2011. Click the badge to see some other entries.