Who Says It's Dead?

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Are you sitting comfortably?

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Then I'll begin ....

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Once upon a time there was a 15 year old girl and a 15 year old boy.

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They went to the same school.

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They sat next to each other in some of their lessons.

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Both of their families lived in the same street.

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She accompanied him on his paper-round.

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They both got weekend jobs at the local hotel.

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She made him ask her "out"

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They had their first kiss on a moonlit walk.

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(She burnt a hole in his coat with her cigarette ... he had to wear a badge over it so his mum would never know)

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He left school and got a job as an apprentice earning a pittance of a wage.

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He bought her a necklace with his first pay-packet and had it engraved on the back.

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(She still has that necklace in her jewellery box)

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He passed his driving test really quickly.

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She took over a year.

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They bought their first house together aged 21

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9 years after their first kiss, they got married aged 24.

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They sold their first house and bought a proper "grown-up" house with 3 bedrooms and everything.

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They stayed in that house for 3 years before buying an even more grown-up house that was detached.

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It was in the same street their parents had lived in all those years before.

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They wanted a family.

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There were problems - it was a bumpy road - they navigated it together.

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Five years later their son was born.

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Their son is now nearly seven years old and the 15 year old girl and the 15 year old boy are celebrating their 15th wedding anniversary.

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She loves how the first thing he says when he comes home from work is

"alright bird?"

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She loves how he has been in her life for more time than he hasn't.

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She loves how he makes her tea in a china cup because he knows she doesn't like mugs.

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She loves how they have indeed grown older, fatter and greyer together like they said they would all those years ago.

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(Although she can't actually ever agreeing to be the one who got fatter, she thought she would do grey better than him. Turns out she was wrong).

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She loves how he plays with, wrestles with, reads to, shares silly jokes with and nourishes their beautiful son.

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He is, quite literally, her other half.

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She hopes that the next 15 years will be just the same.

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Happy Anniversary Mr Jelly

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His Other Name Is "Murphy"

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Dear Mr Law

(or may I call you by your first name; "Sod")

.It has come to my attention recently that you like having your fun with me.

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I wonder what kind of kick you get out of the following :

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I prepare a stock of "blank" PE bags in preparation for the rush of orders to come in only to receive orders for excatly none of the designs I have made.

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I buy myself a fairly expensive pair of embroidery scissors, nice and sharp to cut out those fiddly bits of felt, and which pair is it I have lost?

The expensive pair, or the three, cheap, not-quite-as-nice-to-use pairs?

Where exactly have you hidden the expensive sharp pair?

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Why is it that whatever clothes I want to buy for myself, the shops have always run out of my size?

I notice that you like this law so much you are also applying it to buying clothes for

boy*jelly as well.

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Why do you always make the light-bulbs stop working when you know we haven't got the right sort in the cupboard?

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What kind of pleasure do you get from making boy*jelly

" Need. To. Go. Right. Now "

when we're in the middle of a shop laden down with un-purchased goods in our basket and a gazillion miles from the nearest public loo?

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Oh and there was that time I caught dog*jelly

(who as you know is 13 and likes everybody to believe she isn't very agile)

with both of her front paws on a dining-chair licking boy*jelly's plate clean.

I managed to get the video camera switched on in order to capture the dastardly deed on video, only for the tape to get all chewed up and break the camera.

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Anyway.

I could go on, but time is getting on and I bet while I've been sat here preparing this blog-post there has been something really interesting on the telly that I will curse myself for missing.

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So in closing Mr Law, I would like to propose that you naff off and apply your laws to somebody else for a change.

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Mrs Jelly

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Bereft

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Something bad has happened in the Jelly household.

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No, it's got nothing to do with boy*jelly being home for the next 6 weeks on summer holiday.

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And it's got nothing to do with the fact that I had to take him with me round a crowded supermarket looking at other mothers with a similar glazed look to their expressions muttering "it's only been 2 days .... how will I cope with 6 weeks?"

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No, it's something far worse.

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My computer is in the process of dying on me.

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I can get about 10 minutes' worth of computer time before it says

"I'm not staying switched on and there's nothing you can do about it"

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I am currently relying on the laptop, but it's just not the same.

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Fortunately, everything gets backed-up every day to an external driver (learnt my lesson the last time), but I don't get much time to access my email account.

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So if I take a while to respond to any emails, it's because:

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"Computer Says No"

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Filling My Cabinets

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Me and boy*jelly were sitting on the sofa together today when I did a rather large yawn quite close to his head.

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boy*jelly : "Eugh!"

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Me : (indignantly) "What?!"

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boy*jelly : " Some of your teeth have those .... what are they called ... cabinets"

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I'm hoping he means fillings.

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But I think from now on, I'll call them my " filling cabinets "

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They're Baa-mey

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Not much blog fodder going on in the jelly household at the moment as it's all awash with fabric and sewing of PE bags.
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So I thought I'd show you this as it made me chuckle.
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Sand, Sea and, er, Rain

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Today we decided to embrace the damp and dismal weather that is yet another summer in the UK and set off for our nearest seaside town:

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Walking along the prom, I spotted this sign :

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I'm sorry, what?

They obviously have their own technology in Somerset.

(A technology that needs its own zone no less.)

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And then we visited the sand festival on the beach.

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Just what is this man doing?!

Has he sat on something? Is he straining? Has he got piles?

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Apart from that one oddity, there were some fantastic sand sculptures.

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We also went on the "Wheel", which I thought was quite brave of me, but it wasn't too terrifying.
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And just in case any of you have ever wondered how I maintain my *ahem* figure ...
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... I always insist on ice-creams that are the same size as me!
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Extreme Letter

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Dear ABC Network,

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I am a humble Brit who has recently become addicted to your programme hosted by Ty Pennington.

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I would like to nominate my house to be considered for an extreme makeover should you ever come back to Britain to show us how it's done.

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However, I'm not sure if I qualify as a candidate?

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I don't have 24 children - just the one, but he does run me ragged sometimes?

I don't have an incurable illness, but I do feel "run down" quite a lot of the time?

I haven't lost my spouse, although he does disappear into the bathroom for quite long periods of time?

I don't do an awful lot for my community, but I have been known to give a cheery wave to my neighbours from time to time?

I'm not a recovering drug-addict (unless you count the time I sniffed too much decongestant when I had a really bad cold)

My house isn't about fall to pieces around me, nor is it unsafe in any way, but I do abstain from doing the housework for longer than I probably should.

I'm not sure if I could make your viewers cry every five minutes, but I'm willing to give it a try.

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Me and my family have current passports so we are able go on holiday to whichever exotic location you choose whilst Ty and his team of designers try to rustle up some volunteers to rebuild a house for us in a week.
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As a family, our needs are quite modest.
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A grand room with a 30 foot ceiling may look a little out of place in our neighbourhood, but again, I'll leave all those sort of decisions to you as you are the experts.
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I'm sure Ty would have no problem finding several people to help demolish our home, but he may struggle trying to find some builders who can finish the project within the 7-day timescale. (Especially when you consider it took one of our neighbours nearly 9 months to have a single-room extension built on their house, but I'm sure you know what you're doing and will leave all that stuff to you and your team.)

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boy*jelly is also a fan of your show and has simple tastes for his bedroom.

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He'd be quite happy with a tree to climb, or a mountain to scale, but he'd be a bit overwhelmed by an entire basketball pitch, so you could probably get away with something quite simple.

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There is one thing that may hold the project up for you ... it might take you the best part of the week to empty my workroom, but if you could knock it down and then build me a triple storey building in the garden it would make my dreams come true.

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Thank you for your consideration,

Mrs Jelly and the Jelly family.

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PS - if Ty isn't free to present the show, you could always ask Nick Knowles to do it ... now that really would make my dreams come true!

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Oh, The Irony

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Has anybody seen my sat-nav?

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You know, the device that tells you how to get somewhere so you don't get lost.

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Well, I've lost it.

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I need it for Sunday and I've looked everywhere for it.

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I just know it's going to be in the last place I look!

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Need vs Want

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Mr Jelly recently bought back a packet of these from the supermarket.

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They sat in the cupboard un-opened for a few days

The restraint nearly killed me.

Then one day I cracked.

Spying me opening the pack, Mr Jelly informed me that he had bought them for boy*jelly to have.

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"Oh well" I shrugged "he won't know if I don't tell him"

And then came the killer line from Mr Jelly

."But you don't need them"

Well ...

He's right.

.I don't need them in exactly the same way he doesn't need to watch motorsport on the telly at any given opportunity.

And that's the difference between "need" and "want".

I rest my case your honour.

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You Call That Lucky?!

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Somebody commented on my last post that they were glad that I didn't get pooped on by the seagulls ...

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Well, that's not exactly the case ...

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Day 2 Of The Holiday:

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Visit To Newquay Zoo.

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Admired the zebras.

Squirmed at the tarantulas.

Tried not to think of the latest "Compare The Market" advert whilst watching the meerkats.

Convinced myself that, yes, there really was a fishing cat in the pen I stared at for ages.

Ate lunch whilst watching the rain pouring down.

Watched the penguins for ages when the sun came out again.

Swore at the seagull that did a great big, warm, splatty pooh that landed right in the middle of my forehead.

Spent five minutes washing and re-washing my forehead.

Spent five minutes asking "has it definitely gone?"

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Day 3 Of The Holiday:

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A Day At The Beach.

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Erected wind-break.

Slathered on factor 40 suncream.

Placed big, floppy sunhat on head.

Laid on blanket on the sand.

Swore at the seagull that did a great big, warm, splatty pooh that landed on the blanket about an inch away from my body.

Spent five minutes washing and wiping the blanket with a hanky and sea-water.

Spent five minutes muttering and moaning about how evil all seagulls are and what have I ever done to them.

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They're evil I tell you ... evil.

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"You Must See Our Holiday Snaps"

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You know how when your friends get back from their holiday and they say to you

"you must pop round and have a look at our holiday snaps"?

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Well, you're my friend.

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And you're going to look at some of my holiday snaps and listen to my running commentary whether you want to or not.

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No excuses will do.

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I spotted this sailing boat from the caravan and zoomed in on it.

I've added the frame to make it look as though you're looking through a telescope.

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The sea went out for about a quarter of a mile leaving a vast expanse of sand with impressions of the waves.

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When the tide went out it left these mussels exposed to the sun.

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This was the view from my deck-chair on the beach.
I noticed somebody had made 3 sandcastles in the foreground and thought it made a good composition.
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Again, another view from my deck-chair.
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I spent ages (and ages!) trying to capture a seagull in mid-flight from underneath.
There was danger from above waiting for the perfect shot.
It didn't come in the form of seagull-poop, but from the sun.
I burnt my legs lying in one position for so long!
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A secret cave and beach that boy*jelly discovered.
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Still burning those legs ...
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Getting a bit arty-farty ... probably to the bemusement of onlookers!

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No British beach holiday is complete without a wind-break.
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Legs not quite crispy enough yet ...
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And just to prove we were there ...
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boy*jelly and me.

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(Note to self : an arm's length isn't far enough away from the lens to stop the camera making your face look vast)

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