"This is it!"

Does anyone here NOT have a cold?



I've got one.

Actually, I think I've got two at the same time, as my yearly cough has just set in (you'd think by now he'd get the hint - after all the cough medicine I've poured on him all these years, but no.)


I've got three weeks until I lose my singing voice - another week before I lose my speaking voice, and then I won't be able to sing for another three months.



Life can be somewhat unfair.


Now, while I've covered 'like', 'rhetorical questions', and 'y'alright', I've decided to look at 'This is it!'


If you're Scottish, it's "Is that right?" in a very Scottish accent, or American, it's quite surely "For Real??"


I stand in a charity shop, day in and day out and hear



"She wasn't even busy, she was standing there filing her nails and didn't even call me up to have me hair done for another twenty minutes"



And the sympathetic listener says:

"I mean, this is it!!"


Or

"British Heart Foundation prices are extortionate. No wonder every time I go past them they don't have anyone in there"



"This is it!"


This is what?


Is it some type of strange language that I don't understand?



Is it a code word that no-one has bothered to tell me about??

Or is it frightfully old-fashioned, and therefore way behind my time?


After much umming, awwing, checking my Dictionary.



Then my Thesaurus. Then my French Dictionary, German Dictionary, Dutch Dictionary, Spanish Dictionary - you catch my drift - I decided that 'this is it' is something that is said that translated means this:


"I haven't heard a word of what you are saying. I wasn't listening. But if it makes you feel better, I'll agree with you"


I think I've got a headache.

I'm off

xxx

Cleverness?

It's quite a relief to be clever at times.

Not that I'm stating out blank that I am clever, I'm merely pointing out what philosophers have been pointing out over the last few centuries.

There are many people who one can keep up with, in the event one is clever, (I do not profess anything of the sort) - and one can follow all kinds of witty conversations.

Now and again though, those of us who are quite clever - er, I mean those people who are quite clever (I'm saying nothing :-) stop to talk to someone, who turns out to be somewhat cleverer than they are!

I know from experience - Of course, I mean I've read somehwhere - that this is decidedly unpleasant. Suddenly I - um, the poor person, is reduced to a quivering mass of humiliation (It's gotta be Shakespeare - Or Dickens??)

In a terrible twist of fate, I am --- cough, 'they are' practically begging for someone to speak in proper English.

I am (they are!) used to using idiosyncratic words themselves (having looked them up in a dictionary and painstakingly added them to their vocabulary - not that I know this, I just have heard it.)

I/ Hem, they, are being insulted so subtly that they wake up at three o'clock the next morning and realise it (these things always occur at three in the morning)

This never normally happens.

Can anyone recommend cleverness classes? Or maybe a brain transplant (installing brain with higher I.Q) would help.

Then again, someone once remarked to me that if I thought there was such a thing as a brain transplant, I would need one.

:-)

TNT

xx

Nightmare?? No, that was reality.

Why?

Why does it always happen to me?

Why can't it happen to Angelina Jolie? (and no, just because I mentioned her does not mean for a second that I admire her, or aspire to be like her, or even have taken much interest in her. But I have heard her name. . .)

Alnd I'm aware that she is somebody famous who would never do what I just did)

Am I clear?


Good, let's move on.

I take some of the younger siblings swimming once a week.

Well, yesterday was no different.

Er, well, except the part that I was wearing high heels.

Again.

Yes, I know, I know. But my ballet pumps are completely worn out, and my other three hundred pairs of shoes are unsuitable.

Anyway, this interesting (note sarcasm, note sarcasm) problem wasn't any problem at all. Until. The Zebra Crossing. (Americans - check Google for translation).


Now, to go out with a few younger children, quite apart from a remarkably good nature, a brave feeling and good storytelling abilites (for the bus of course), you need to hold tightly onto the two youngest, to ensure that they are not inclined to go running in any direction of a white van, or after a dog.

And to hold JTJ's hand proves to be quite difficult at times, so I hold onto him tightly. Ensuring that he stays close to me.


This works perfectly, you understand, until he steps on my shoe. My foot moves. My shoe stays still.


I'm shoeless. In the middle of the road. With my siblings surrounding me.


And on both sides of the crossing, drivers are impatient to get home to their shepherd's pie, or cheese on toast or whatever. . .

So, I turned around, practically hopping, and went after my shoe. Just as I was about to slide it back onto my foot, J trips, and sends it flying over the zebra part and onto the road. So, as some of us cross to the other side, I hold tight on to J and make my way toward this shoe.

(Please bear in mind both drivers were drumming on their steering wheels with impatience, and shopkeepers were sticking their heads out of shops to see what was causing the commotion on the road. Shoppers were stopping, looking and staring. The ladies in the nail salon painted all the way on to their customers' arms while keeping an eye on me dancing across the road)

And I remained steady, stable and in good character.

Retrieving my prodigal shoe, I strode to the end of the crossing, mouthing "sorry" with an apolgetic grin to each of the drivers.
Then, as soon as I was on my way down our road, I started to laugh.
Well, what else could you do?? It was that or cry.
I've been working on this reputation for years; you know, the cool, calm collected, (funny, witty, clever :0) - somewhat based off Elizabeth Bennet demeanour.
Demeaning is exactly what it was.
Let's move on.......
*Wail* it was so embarrasing!!

Out ---

Hello again.

My recent trips all over the place have yielded many interesting results. I can now add the picture of an old man blow drying his feet to my reportoire.
(Whatever that is)

The old man in question was immediately suspicious upon seeing me; suspicious that I might knock him down.

You understand, he was in somewhat of a precarious situation, having to balance against the wall to blow dry his feet.

I emphasize feet rather than foot.

After considering him for a few moments, I came to the conclusion that I might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb -or whatever that saying is - and knocked him down with a frying pan anyway.

No, no, I didn't really - there is no need to email my parents this time.

I'm sure you've guessed that I didn't see this old man drying his feet in a telephone box, on the bus, or even in the library - it was the swimming pool.

I felt the need to clarify that.

I really need to get a camera, there are moments that are just asking to be captured on film for posterity.

Not that I'd show them to you. That just makes me run the risk of being sued. I don't think they'd really have a chance of much money, suing me, by the way, but it is far better to be safe than sorry.

And now I have to run. Not really run, but get a move on.

I've got an orthodontist appointment to go to later, and a lot to get in before then.Yes, I know, the reason I jumped up into the air and yelled when I got my braces off was I because thought I'd never have to see an orthodontist again.

Now, nearly two years later, I'm going back to one.

I'll stop talking.

xx

It's late - I know

I'm sorry.

I've been busy.

Very busy indeed.
Righto, apologies over (I never did like those things much) - let's get down to business.First of all

- Happy New Year to all of you who haven't already received this sentiment from me, and many happy returns.

I hope 2009 is a good year for you, etc, etc, (you know the drill)

I haven't been up to much, just getting back to self defence, getting back to gymnastics, swimming, working, all the things you do at the beginning of the year.

I haven't had any time to do anything on the computer anymore - because I've been trying to beat my siblings' stats in a computer game.

I know, I know, how sad is all that??

But you know, it has paid off. Somewhere I'm sure I'm cleverer for it.
But no, that isn't all I've been doing since I wrote here last. I've been working steadily at the piano, and now have everyone in the family gazing at me in awe and saying:

"Dad! Constance is a genius"

And one person, who had been told that Einaudi (a composer/pianist) was a genius said grumpily when I finished one of his pieces:

"It must be writing the music that's hard"

Well, actually, yes it is.

Let's move on.

I've also been working hard at my self-defence and listening to everything the teacher says, and practising almost every second of the day.

I know, doesn't sound like me does it?

Of course, the small part where I made it up, might have something to do with that.

I've run away from that old guy four or five times since you heard from me, been followed round a shop on suspicion of shop-lifting, been to the dentist, watched fascinated as an old man blew dry his FEET, broken my back trying to lift a girl that was too heavy at gymnastics (almost), had a cold, worked hard and learnt about eutrophic lakes, (Something that once I've passed the exam I'll never think about again. Something I will never need to know unless I want to be a pond engineer. Which I don't) - we had the heating installed, picked up leaves and all the rest.

Of course, that is just looking at the 'good' things I've done.

I've also put my feet up, drunk loads of tea, read a hundred books, played hide and seek, told endless stories about when I was little, 'not' tidied my bedroom, failed to get out of bed on time some mornings, and eaten far too much chocolate.

It balances doesn't it?

And now, I have 53 equations to balance in my chemistry book.

If you'll excuse me...

TTFN

Constxx

Charity Shop

There is something I love about working in a charity shop.

Strange people.

Now, let me start the post properly.

I'm sorry I haven't posted on any days I'm supposed to post, I think I'll start getting back to it soon. You see, the whole routine of life has been turned upside down because of the holidays.

Saturday was one of life's busy days. Dad was out somewhere doing some plumbing for someone, Mum was trying to get the house really tidy with the help of the few kids who weren't with Dad, and I was quite happy to escape to the charity shop.

At least, I was until I got there.

Don't get me wrong here, I absolutely love all of the ladies who work there. I wish I could say the same about the customers.

Some of the customers are alright, the deaf lady who comes in is lovely - and I really like doing the translating for her. She's one of life's nice people. And there are a few 'regulars' who always have a smile for us, and a chat about woolworths closing down or the latest dog dying etc.

Then we move on.

"I've got a baby cot here, it's brand new. Here you are"

"I'm really, really sorry. Due to law and the fact that it may break when somebody buys it, and we could get sued, we're not allowed to take it" (I thought that was kind.)

"I would have thought even a "charity shop" would be less fussy" SLLLLLAAAAAAAMMMMMM goes the door in my face.

"Here is a bag, all full of my daughters clothes. There is some nice stuff in there"

"Thank you!" I say and smile. It's the falsest smile you've ever seen.

Ten minutes later:

"Constance!!! Who gave you that bag?? The woman put clothes on the top, and old sausage rolls, rubbish, old paper, pencils, milk cartons underneath"

"I knew she was a bad 'un" I say

"Constance! Come out here and get this off the top shelf for this young man"

(The young man is every day of fifty, but I guess that's young to them)

I come out of the back room, one pen in my hand, one behind my ear, and another clipped to my t-shirt (You NEED pens in a charity shop)

"Which man, Edna?"

There is only one man there. I come up to his elbow.

"Which one?" I smile cheerfully. He points silently to a flowery lampshade.

I get onto my tiptoes, pull it down and hand it to him.

He looks at it; looks at the price tag 1.75

"Too much" he shakes his head, and I put it back up.

Very, very, very, strange.

I whistle quietly as I waltz into the 'library' - the little room where there are books, videos, dvds and folders.

A very small man in a tight leather jacket (I HATE those things) jumps when he sees my arms full of videos, and my t-shirt with a couple of pens clipped on, and rushes past me. The videos go flying.

I watch him go, eyes narrowed, kneel down, pick the videos up, put them and way and turn round to pick up the dvd cases.

One after the other, after the other; empty. All empty.

There is something rather depressing about people who steal from a charity shop. I take the empty cases and put them in the bin, complete with the price tags I only put on 30 minutes ago.

I'm scowling now as I walk through to the clothing part of the shop, and come across an old lady, every day of seventy trying a pink sequiny jacket (age 13-14) on.

"What do you think??"

I flash her a grin and nod (You see, this is how to do it. I didn't lie did I?) and move on very, very quickly.

So quickly I collide straight into a huge big guy in ANOTHER leather jacket. He looked so scary I quickly felt my pockets to see if everything was still there. I've heard stories about people who bump into you, you see!

"Scuse me miss" I turn round to see a boy, probably about 11 years old.

I'm instantly flattered at being called Miss, and smile at him very nicely :) "Do you have any Play Station2 games in?"

I spend the next ten minutes going through our collection of Play Station 2 games with him

"Got that one"
"Got that one"

"Got that one"

I think you 'got the picture'!?

"We don't have any more" I say at the end of it all.

"That's okay" he says, and puts his hand into his pocket, brings out a half eaten lolipop and proceeds to eat it.

He's barely out of sight when a little girl comes running at top speed toward me, just about to crash into me. I decide to catch her.

"Watch it darling" I tell her "You're gonna get hurt one of these days"

She takes no notice, being of that age, you see, and grabs at a pin on my lapel.

"Sweetie?" she says

Actually, no, that is a 'Support Our Troops' badge.

Let's not start on that one, I'm too tired to argue about how much I don't support the war, but I do support the troops that are out there for as long as they are out there.

The mum of the little girl finally turns up, pushing a huge big double buggy.

"Schelonade come here" Well, that's how it sounded!

Maybe the child was named after the woman in Arabian Nights, however her name is spelt or pronounced

Mary comes walking into the back room, and says "I don't know about those people out there! That man and woman, letting their little girl run round awfully, while they're stealing. Constance dear, do you have the air-freshner?"

Mary is one of life's really nice people.

Whereas, the father of that little girl, turned out to one of life's horrible people.He managed to get away with some really expensive dolls under his coat.

You know what? I think this post is long enough, and my computer is messing up completely (You can probably see it, with the horrible spacing between my lines, it's driving me crazy!) so I think I'll disappear and sort it out!

Have a good week, whatever you're doing

Constxxx

P.S. Talking of Mary, she's quite ill at the moment, and is undergoing tests at Kings College hospital. Prayers would be appreciated.

Miscellaneous

Hello again,

I'm sorry I didn't keep up with my idea to put a post on every Thursday as well as Tuesday, but I'm kinda tied for time on Thursdays, so here's one on Monday.

How are things?

Well, I'm extremely busy with lessons, and have a horrible bump at the back of my head, that I can't complain about because it's entirely my fault(!)

You see, on Saturday, I was playing Doctors and Nurses game with some little children (and I used to HATE that game when I was little), and one of the things, I, as the patient, had to do was act ill. (believably, of course)

So, I kept collapsing onto the bed in either the room where the Doctor was, or the in the 'chemists'.

It all went perfectly well in the Dr's room, but when I collapsed in the 'chemist's' room, I smashed the back of my head.

Well? What could I do? I was already lying there going "Ouch, don't! DON'T TOUCH ME!!!! AHHHH! Ouch, me head hurts"

I could hardly have stood up and gone. "Er, do you mind? My head REALLY hurts now!?"

I just carried on, heroically smiling as they tried to bandage up my head (why couldn't I have said I had armache?)

Next time I'm going to have a good look before I go flying down backwards on a bed, pretending to be ill, and I'm sure that there are worse things in life than what I'm complaining about.

Of course, as for many other things in life, when I announced that I was now fine, and wasn't going to 'be ill' for the sixth time, all of the little girls scarpered, leaving just three of us to pick up six thousand tissues, forty little bits of sticky tape (yep, I'm sure they REALLY enjoyed taping my mouth up so I couldn't speak) - a billion bits of cotton wool, and five hundred bandages.

Er, yes, I'm sure you're aware that was a shameful exaggeration, and whatever I'm saying, the game was quite fun actually :-)

Let's move on...

Don't you just love the saying 'Y'Alright'?

You can say it to anyone: an old lady who thinks you're being concerned about the fall she took three years ago.

A kid, who thinks that you're wondering if they need any more ice-cream.

Someone your own age, who, correctly, takes it as a greeting.

A business collegue, who thinks that you are thinking 'Did she have a good journey'.

A self-defence teacher, who thinks that you're wondering if he's been in any fights recently, and finally, your close family, who are so used to it, that they just ignore it.

Yes, a VERY useful couple of words, I must admit.

However. I just was thinking. Supposing it was a very independant old lady, and she doesn't like people asking her if she is alright. Or if you are speaking to a kid who's seriously ill, and his/her mother takes offence, or your business collegue has just been released from a mental asylum and goes into fits of worries over whether you know about it... and so on.

Maybe you should just stick to Hello. You can't go wrong much there, can you?

Moving on again.

Don't you just hate the fact that we English are stereotyped as people with bowler hats, who trot around, Scarlet Pimpernel type walking sticks in our hands, calling all our friends Old boy, or Old girl, with a horrible, horrible accent and very strange words. Such as "Jolly good show!" or "Cherrio Old Fellow"

If you were to ask me, the proper stereotype English person, is:

Under 18, someone with a tracksuit, airmax clumpy trainers, a face far more brown than is natural (I mean fake tan or layers of foundation; not non-white genes, don't get me wrong, puhlease) and a very cool phone blasting Kanye West in the ears of people who don't want to listen.

Over 18, they have suits, a glazed look on their face, are reading Tom Grisham, and listening to something from the sixties in their ipods. [Should I add - and travelling to work, all at the same time]

Over sixty, they are comparing bus passes, and shaking their heads over the state of children these days, and nattering on about what hairdresser to use.

I've never, ever, heard anyone in public, in England say "Jolly Good Show" have you?

On Buses, there is almost the 'war of music'

Under 18 turns his music up loud, to outdo Other Under 18 who is blasting 'not his style'

Over 18 turns her ipod up and determinedly stares out the window.

Other Over 18 turns his ipod up even louder and even more determinedly stares out the window.

Over sixty takes her hearing aid out.

Other over sixty takes his hearing aid out and takes off his glasses.

Turnbull puts hands over ears, and pretends she's elsewhere.
And of course, for anyone in the bus who puts a t into water (as in Wa'er, and waTer) there is the job of completely pretending that absolutely nothing is happening.

(Even though old deaf ladies from the houses thirty metres from the bus are leaning out of their windows and screaming "Turn it down!")

You can just tell I'm going to be on the bus this evening can't you?

Talking of actually being on the bus, poor me is going to Self Defence.

On Thurdsay is the grading, and I'm just going to stand behind my older brother, and hopefully not get noticed.

Oh, yeah! Which brings me to mention that we won 'family of the Year' for our class. The plate is sitting in our "Sabbath Room" with our names proudly displayed on it.

I caught Jeremy giving me this very strange look, that quite plainly said - "How comes your name is on it too when you haven't even tried"

What? I turned up, didn't I? And provided the amusement, right?

I learned early in life, you don't ever argue with someone who BELIEVES they are right, so I'll just leave it there.

Well, you know what? It's time I started getting a move on. I've still got to resurrect Mum's old camera and start using it more often, or I could just start using my phone?

Cya

Constxxx