Buy Nothing Day

Next Saturday is Buy Nothing Day- a day for people to attempt not to be consumers for 24 hours. This will be easy for us as we NEVER shop on Saturdays due to avoiding the Chav Zombies who invade town to buy anything and everything in order to fill their empty lives. I particularly avoid Primark for the vicious, bargain-smock-grabbing vultures. Please go to www.buynothingday.co.uk to join the force!
This Christmas I will be attempting to purchase as many presents as possible from charity shops, will be making jars of home made chutney, and will also be buying family members the odd cow or allotment in a third world country, as I do every year, but it's impossible to not be tempted by the shop windows and glistening newness of things. (Cue advert: For those of who want to buy new and groovy gifts for your friends and kids go to www.planetboo.co.uk for some marvellous nick nacks and attire. I will also profit from this, so will be able to buy more charity shop goods and goats from Oxfam, so you will be doing a good deed in a roundabout way. But remember to wait until after next Saturday).
I can't believe I've just used Buy Nothing Day as a way of getting you to give me some money. How sick am I?

Please Don't Magazine

If you want to listen to a load of old w@*k then please log onto http://www.dontmagazine.com/#/5/david-langley/ and listen to an artist talk shit. Stick to the rather nice collages love and keep your mouth shut- you are really really dull and ramble even more than me.

Throw it on the fire and take the car down town

Oh my god- what a hilarious morning I had. I have offered to help out a Sadie's school every couple of weeks, and usually us parents are sensibly designated to the dummy jobs like cutting realistic leaf shapes out of card or tidying the crumbs up from the snack corner....., but today, as the only one stupid enough to volunteer to help for 'Maths Week' (I am such a creep), I was basically enrolled as a maths teacher (luckily this is reception year so I just about had the know-how). There was me thinking that spying on my daughter in class was going to be a swizz.
My job was to play maths games FOR TWO HOURS with a group of four and five year olds. It was like trying to deal with a group of extremely pissed people who didn't give a flying f**k what I said and just wanted to skid around on the floor or pinch each other. The funniest part was when I took them into the playground to count our footsteps and, like a firework exploding, the moment our feet hit the concrete, the six little excitable munchkins splayed off in all directions. I couldn't gather them all back into a group for about ten minutes. I think all they learnt about maths was 'How many minutes does it take for that silly woman with the red hair to come and find us all?'. Oh how I laughed. And oh how my slight incline towards becoming a primary school teacher just faded right there and then. But at the end of the class when they all sweetly said in unison "Thank you for helping us today Cathy" I nearly wept. Ah- kids are ace. Maybe there is hope yet.....

Soundtrack: David Bowie-Kooks

Christmas Pudding Dash

For the first time in 400 years, thanks to song called 'Valerie' sung by a big-haired drug addict from Camden (and yes I know it's a cover- but with that bouffant and that voice she's always going to be remembered for it more than the Zutons), ginger hair is fashionable again. And you know what- I had a horrible recollection last night of being chatted up by Miss Winehouse's perverting husband Blake Fearnley-Whittingstall about ten years ago in a nightclub after he had sold me some crack (it was for my friend). This freaked me out a bit as he must have been about 15 years old. I'm sure it was him.
Back to the fluffy world I live in nowadays, I've just signed up to do a Christmas Pudding Dash in Battle, near Hastings, on Saturday 22nd December. I'll be running five miles (well there is a glass of mulled wine at the end- I have been known to run further if there is a drink awaiting me) around the beautiful grounds of some posh house, and if you sponsor me the money will go to the Martha Trust, which is a charity for severely disabled people. Will put details on here tomorrow of how you can sponsor me. And if anyone wants to run alongside me let me know (it's worth it just to laugh at my purple face).

Tits Up

I hate arguments. As much as they are necessary I feel as flat as a Keane record after venting my PMT annoyances. Couldn't get out of bed this morning as still recovering from yesterday's slanging match with my lovely other half. He had very sensibly scarpered for 24 hours to have a break from hormone-nightmare ME, so this morning I was left to deal with the early morning wake up call from Sadie Spec. In order to ensure that I was able to stay firmly under my comforting bedding until at least midday I conjured up an igloo with my king size white duvet and Sadie and I were Eskimos for the next few hours, lolloping about (well- I was laid flat most of the time, pretending to be a very scary polar bear) and playing make believe. Kids are very pliable sometimes if you use a bit of imagination.
I have done nothing this month to avoid the usual moodiness. When will I ever learn eh? I'm off to eat some more comfort food and then sob into my pillow until I pass out. Not really. Well- I will be eating some chocolate but there will be no tears. Yesterday's rant seems to have vented some frustrations it seems. I will sleep like a baby having been burped successfully.

I am officially SAD and no I'm not depressed

Due to the fact that I bit through my bottom lip the other night (NB: cuddling hyperactive children can be dangerous) and decided, as it was HEROES night last night, to polish off a bottle of red wine ('oh really? How unusual!' I hear you cry) with Andy, I woke up this morning with red wine stains imbedded in the holes in my lip. I looked like I'd drunk a BARREL of wine rather than half a bottle. Much top-lip-over-bottom-lip mumblings went on today I can tell you...and that was only to myself!
Onto an entirely different subject, I realised my old personality is definitely coming back lately as I am becoming more selfish about Christmas. Although I still revel in the enjoyment to be had in buying my little girl Christmas presents, my mind is somewhat preoccupied with what I have to add to my ever-expanding list of wants. My selfish, greedy, nature is returning full swing it seems.
Speaking of Christmas, and you will not believe this, I have just placed my Christmas food order with Ocado. How organised am I??!? And how posh to be shopping at Waitrose online???!? I have even booked for us to go to panto, bought an advent calendar and started looking into what carol services are on in our area. I am a girl OBSESSED. I just can't get enough of the fairy-lit season of frolics. And it's not even started..
I should perhaps chuck away the mouldy pumpkin head before I start thinking about buying the tree....

Herdy Gurdy Mushroom Man

I woke up this morning to find that the Oedipus Complex had taken over my daughter's development- she suddenly only wanted daddy to pour her shreddies and to get her dressed. This, by the way, as you can tell by the bags under my eyes, has NEVER happened. It's around this age that little girls, according to Freud, go through a phase of wanting only their fathers and tend to then reject the mothers, and if this is a sign of things to come (as much as I will revel in the fact HE has to do more) I'm not a happy bunny mummy. What if I am no longer the apple of her eye?- more the dried prune wilting in the corner, seeped of most of its life and goodness? All the years I've put in giving her my undivided and unconditional doses of love/attention/organic vegetables, and she might turn around and want the man who's spent most of the last five years hidden behind a copy of the Friday Ads. Nah- I'm exaggerating slightly, but it hurt. I shall attempt to wallow in my new found freedom and it is ace that she and Andy are closer.
We went to a brilliant exhibition today called 'Sonic Body' at the Blank gallery in Portslade. The installation basically invited you to stand inside a human body created from felt and foam: a throbbing, intestinous, red tinted vessel, with an orchestral soundtrack, created by how we moved and touched the various body parts inside; whistling veins, squelches, gassiness (is that a word? she says- the would-be copy editor...according to spell check- no) and high pitched squeaks...I felt like Raquel Welch in Fantastic Voyage, only with more accessibility to prodding and poking the bodily bits. And also not as hot, obviously. It's only on for another couple of days so if you are from Brighton GO AND SEE IT; see www.sonicbody.co.uk
I also got a lovely pressie from my mate Luce today- a badge of a sheep called Herdy-very cute. Thanks Luce!

Soundtrack- Britney Spears vs B52s- Toxic Love Shack

Later: Oh my god, Malcolm McDowell, with his strawberry nose, is Mr Linderman in Heroes!