6 December 2010

Massive Mega Stupid Clearance Sale!




I am still alive!






However I decided to close the business at the start of the summer ....






So I have tons and tons and TONS of stuff to clear out of my workroom!!






Please spread the word amongst the crafting fraternity ... mention it on your blogs ... send smoke messages if you must, but everything must go!






I have opened a shop on ebay and will be photographing and listing all this week.



Spend £30 in one transaction and get free shipping.






And if you want to see what I'm up to these days ...









30 June 2010

So. Where Was I?

Ok people, budge up ....

I left you in November after I'd just done that horrendous baby show and had got a speeding fine.

So Christmas came and went and then we were hit with Black January.

Black for two reasons ...

... I turned 40 and we lost our lovely 15 year old dog Poppy.

But I don't want my comeback gig to start off on a downer, so let's whizz on ahead to February.

Me and Mr*Jelly went to London for the weekend and did the tourist bit.

Granny*Jelly totally spoilt us and paid for us to stay in a four-star hotel. It had revolving doors and huge glass chandeliers in the lobby and everything. It even had a telly in the bathroom!




However, four star prices didn't stop some tw*t having a cigarette in their room at 2:00 am and setting all the fire alarms off!




Still, I did manage to get these shots of the London Eye and the very posh fire escape stairs!



March. Can't remember much about March.

Or April.


June .... nup, bit of a blank, but I'm sure it will all come back to me over the next few blog posts!

So. Here we are almost in July.

I'd love to be able to tell you that I've lost tons of weight since we last spoke, but, hey this is me remember!

We have got a new addition to the family though ...



... meet Jazzy


Looks cute doesn't she?



Butter wouldn't melt, right?



Don't you believe it!

She's the naughtiest sock-eating, shoe-eating, rabbit-pooh eating, cow-pooh eating, sheep-pooh-eating, stick-eating, toilet-roll-shredding, climbing-on-the-sofa, sleeping-on-beds, won't-come-back-when-she's-called 10-month old Lab you ever did see!

Here's evidence of how much she loves her socks ...


... in her food bowl, saving it for later.


And toilet rolls don't stand a chance ...




But we love her.



I want to thank you all for coming to the first night of my comeback tour, you've been a great audience, until next time!

26 June 2010

Testing ....

Testing, testing ...


.... one, two ...


... one, two ...


Just testing the blog to see if she still works.


Is there anyone out there?



Just wondering whether to re-form the blogging-band and stage a come-back?

26 November 2009

Sod's Law, 1,376 ... Mrs Jelly, nil

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Dear Mr Law,
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Okay, okay, you win.
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I shall never question your power again in a mocking tone on this blog ...
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25 November 2009

Seriously, Give Me A Break ...

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Earlier this year I applied for free tickets to be in the audience at the recording of the TV show QI.
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Much to my amazement, I was sent two tickets.
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Unfortunately, due to circumstances that went something like this - Mr Jelly couldn't get the time off work and nobody else in my social circle wanted to schlepp up to London and I didn't want to go on my own - we never went.
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Ah well, "ce la vie", thought I in blissful ignorance.
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So how far do you think I spewed my drink of tea across the kitchen yesterday when I read this in the Radio Times?
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Can't see what I'm talking about?
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Have a closer look ....

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How much do you want to bet that he was a guest on the episode I was due to watch, live, in the flesh???
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So that's Nick Knowles (re-live the misery here) and David Tennant who've avoided witnessing my drooling features this year.
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Whatever's next?
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George Clooney getting a job at my local supermarket, only to get fired half an hour before I show up to do my shopping?
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I can't help thinking Mr Law (aka "Mr Well, that's just bloody typical") has got something to do with all of this ...
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At least it's given me the opportunity to post some more gratuitous Tennant / Knowles / Clooney photos.
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If you click on any of the photos below, you will get a bigger image ... just don't lick the screen too much ...
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16 November 2009

My Next Letter Will Be From My Solicitors ...

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Dear Mr Law
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(Or can I call you by the nickname I've decided to give you ...
"Mr. well, that's just bloody typical, isn't it?")
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I note with interest that you do not seem to have taken any notice of my recent letters
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I know you can't have read them because if you had, the show I have just done for jb*jb at the weekend wouldn't have been the worst show ever in the history of people not turning up at shows ...
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I should really have suspected things would not go well on Thursday - let's look at the evidence shall we?
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Thursday : a huge spot appears on my chin meaning that any customers on our stand will be so distracted by it they will be thinking "is she growing another chin on her face?" instead of "what beautiful products, I must spend lots and lots of my hard-earned cash on them"
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Friday morning : my computer decides to compact all my e-mail folders to save disk-space. Little do I realise that when it says "compact" it actually means "delete", so I had to spend 2 hours restoring all my messages ... all 5,000 of them.
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Friday afternoon : the bobbin in my sewing machine decides to throw a wobbler because I had the audacity to change from zig-zag stitch to normal stitch once too many times.
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So thanks for putting the kaibosh on getting things ready for the show which is what I had planned to spend the day doing.
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Saturday 09:00 am : jelly*bestfriend throws my plans into a spin by ringing to say she might not be able to come to the show with me after all because she is not feeling so great. I'm pleased to say that you couldn't quite thwart those plans because trusty Mr Paracetomol came to the rescue! (Although you did get your own back by making me leave my sat-nav at home)
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Saturday night ... 11:55 pm : That was a nice touch having those boy racers blasting their music from their cars right outside our hotel window at the same time as doing donuts in the car park.
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Sunday morning ... 03:00 am : And yes, those girls returning from their hen-night, crying and running down the corridor right outside our bedroom door was a touch of genius on your part.
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Sunday morning ... 04:00 am : But your best and most triumphant moment was when you made it absolutely pour down with rain causing the overflow pipe outside our hotel window to pour water onto the metallic roof. It really put us both in mind of that water-torture where victims have water dripped onto them to make them confess.
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Little did we know that the torture was in fact only just beginning ...
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I blame myself for not realising that all these signs were your way of telling me that the show we had driven 2 hours to and spent 4 hours setting up was going to be the biggest waste of time ever.
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I should have known that it all meant that there were going to be more exhibitors than there were customers.
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I could slap myself now when I realise you were planning for me to make only three sales in the whole day..
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... to three fellow exhibitors.
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Still.
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At least the stand looked pretty ...
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11 November 2009

Changing Gear

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Dear Mr Law
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Remember me?
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I wrote you a letter back in July ...
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Well, I have a few more questions for you:
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Why is it, whenever I remember to take a glass of water up to bed with me at night, I won't wake up once?
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However, when I forget ... I will wake up with a raging thirst and have to get up and go downstairs for refreshment?
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Why is it always me that gets the empty toilet roll?
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Why do I fail to notice that an eyelash / hair has fallen onto my fork full of food until that last second before putting it in my mouth?
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And while I've got your attention Mr Law, could you please pass on the following letter to your cousin, Walter Thomas Foster:
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Dear Mr WTF
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How is it that I drove Mr Jelly's ridiculously fast, smelly, small, low to the ground car twice at the weekend and am now convinced that my reverse gear is up and to the left, when we both know it's down and to the right, where it's been for the past five years.
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I've nearly driven into the garage door twice now (and a car parked in front of me, but let's keep that between us) because I put my car into first gear thinking it was in reverse.
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Until next time,

Mrs Jelly
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10 November 2009

Yawnsville

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I had occasion to go shopping at the supermarket the other day.
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I got in my car and drove the 10 minute, uneventful journey.
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I picked my trolley from the long line of them.
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I 'ummed' and 'ahhhed' over the apples and bananas.
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I put what I needed in my trolley and paid for it.
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I drove home and unpacked it all.
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There.
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Wasn't that the most intensely boring blog-post you've ever read?
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I bet you were waiting for something *mad* or *crazy* to have happened.
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I don't know what's going on.
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My blog used to be a place of fun and silliness.
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"Oh you're so funny Emma".
"Your blog makes me smile Emma".
"I love visiting your blog Emma".
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Maybe the pressure to be funny got too much?
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I still feel funny inside.
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(Not a "quick, call the doctor" kind of funny you understand).
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I'm still leaving funny witicisms on other people's blogs.
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I just have no more funny for my blog.
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I can't keep boring you with my photographs - that's what flickr's for.
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I even disassociated my blog from jb*jb so that I could be a bit more personal without worrying that customers might read it and think I was, you know, weird.
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I don't even have a funny ending for this post.
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Anyone have any suggestions?
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8 November 2009

7 November 2009

My Little Squirt

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When I was pregnant, there was a whole raft of books, magazines and even telly programmes dedicated to informing me about what to expect at every step of the gestation journey.
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Then when my baby was born, expert "advice" was freely available at the end of the telephone, at the mother and baby group, at the health-visitor's clinic or even from any stranger that leaned into the pram for a look.
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As we entered the feeding him solids stage, there was a library's worth of books telling us how to sneak "green" food into his mashed potatoes.
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(Sadly none of the books went on to explain what to do when he then spent half an hour at the dinner table picking out every sub-atomic particle of green from his mashed-potato causing it to go cold and congeal, giving him the perfect excuse to not eat the sodding mashed-potato either)
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Then when my toddler started at pre-school, we were given plenty of support on his first days, able to stay out of sight in case he found the whole deal of being left on his own too traumatic (he didn't, barely giving me a backwards glance.)
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And now my child is seven and it's caught me off-guard.
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I've been lulled into a false sense of security for the past 7 years.
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Sleepless nights? Piece of cake.
Teething trauma? Absolute doddle.
Terrible two's? I'd do it again tomorrow.
Toilet training? I'll let you know when it's over ...
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There's a conspiracy going on somewhere.
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He has an answer for pretty much everything and is caught between wanting to challenge the world and it's wife, and having nightmares which means he doesn't need his "mum" but needs his mummy and a cuddle.
(Be still my beating heart, he called me mummy again!)
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Someone told me the other day that being seven is a trial run for being a teenager ... a "mini-puberty" if you will.
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Great.
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I'm so glad we're getting a practice run at it.
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And I take no comfort in the knowldege that the next time he goes through puberty, I will no doubt be in the throes of my own menopausal, hormonal turmoil.
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Perhaps Mr Jelly should just remove the doors from their hinges now.
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So I'd like to offer my own advice on what you will need when your own "scrummy-little-munchkin" turns into a seething mass of seven-ness.
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1) Bleach. And plenty of it. Or maybe this is just because I own a male version of the species?
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2) Several toilet brushes. (See point 1 above)
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3) The understanding that even though you have been on this planet for x number of years, you know absolutely nothing. About anything. And anything you do know will be about the most boring stuff ever.
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4) You will have to learn to look past the rolling-eyes your child will frequently give you. After all, it's only a step away from being called "Oh, Mother"
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. Boy*Jelly demonstrating the preferred look of your average seven-year old
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5) Try to put a positive spin on the word "whatever". Pretend it is child-speak for "you're great and you're the best role model I could ever have". Because you're going to hear it. A lot.
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6) Stock up on lots of different types of breakfast cereals. This can sometimes alleviate the agony at breakfast time when your child is asked "what do you want for breakfast?" However, it can also work against you, in as much as your child now has too much choice. (Also see point 7)
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7) Mornings can be a tricky time of the day and are best dealt with in a brisk manner, lest the indecision of what cereal to have ("but I want toast!") and the sigh-inducing task of putting on school clothes drags on for ages resulting in the child burying their head under the sofa cushion in a fit of pique. On really bad mornings, when you are running especially late for school, it might be worth you joining your child in the cushion-burying activity. However, it's worth having a proper grown-up on standby to take over.
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8) Accept that you will never be able to watch your favourite telly programme in one sitting again. You might as well accept that any programme/activity you have been looking forward all day to doing in the evening when your child has gone to bed will be interrupted with demands along the lines of "I need to go to the toilet but the big light isn't on" or "my duvet is too hot" or, (and this is my personal favourite) "Can I have a drink of water just the way you make it"
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There's no point Sky Plus-ing your programme either, because it's the law that any programme you want to watch has to be interrupted.
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9) Never try to understand the latest craze sweeping the playground. There's no point trying to fathom what Go-Go's or plastic bracelets are for. It makes no sense to anyone over the age of 20 and you'd be better off trying to understand how electricity comes out of the wall.
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10) And finally ... take no notice of any advice given to you and just muddle along in the best way you can!
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My Little Squirt
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