I never drank the milk anyway, but that's not the point.

A couple of things discombobulated me today. Firstly it appears that the misguided clothing style from my teens has been appropriated into a 'revival' so I saw almost my entire wardrobe from when I was 18 in the shops this afternoon. It was disturbing to say the least seeing bold prints, bad trousers and (heaven forfend) bodies on sale again. As a wise woman once said, "if you're old enough to remember it from the first time it was in fashion you're far too old to wear it this time."

Secondly I was just about to go on air this afternoon and present my radio show, which today I'd subtitled "Spring Fling' in homage to a ball that they used to hold at my university. [For younger readers a ball was what you now call a prom] As I waited for my fellow presenter to wrap up her show I looked at twitter and saw this:

So my plans for a cheery and light hearted show with some fun tunes was suddenly threatened as I saw the steady stream of vitriolic and abusive messages with links to anti-Thatcher songs on social media. It was tempting to go with a show about the news, but it would also be out of step with my usual style so instead I just didn't mention it on air at all.

Instead I played music from my years at Uni as that era was fresh in my mind and they just happened to be songs that typify the Thatcher years as PM. In fact she once visited the campus as the University of Warwick was her favourite example of enterprise in further education. She arrived in a helicopter and a student - who is now communications manager for a local authority in East London that rhymes with Hower Tamlets - threw eggs at her. He wasn't doing a degree in PE so of course he missed. 

In the interests of full disclosure I hated Thatcher with a passion. So much so that I was actually angry at Meryl Streep for portraying her sympathetically in The Iron Lady. In my dating days I went out with a man who had her photograph in his upstairs bathroom and I was so horrified that he would do that (even for a joke) that in my head I already knew it was over. 

I grew up in a house where if she was on the TV my Dad would swear and change the channel. It was ingrained in us as children to hate her and to this day the sound of her voice makes me shudder. In my youth it was all the rage to call her a milk snatcher and Spitting Image portrayed her as an increasingly masculine character over the years ending with her smoking stogies and wearing a pinstripe suit. 

Now considering that on twitter I mostly follow people who hold similar views to me it's unlikely that I'd have seen any heart felt tributes to her, but I do have friends whose politics are very different from mine. It makes certain conversations difficult, but I have always been honest about how I feel about Thatch and the myth that she was a powerful force for women and feminism. 

I'm not celebrating or finding joy in her death. Not because of any mawkish sentimentality about her being an old woman you understand. She died peacefully in old age, in the comfort of the Ritz hotel and not in poverty or disablement. How very similar to her good friend Pinochet. 

So today while others are going apoplectic with rage at her past deeds and others are calling for a rational and measured response to her being accorded a ceremonial (not State) funeral I am celebrating something different. 

On Friday I went to a job interview after being a stay at home parent for most of my son's life so far. I wasn't sure if my suit would fit (it did) or if I would know what to say (I did) or if they would even offer it to me (they did). Now the hard part. I've asked them to consider part time hours so that I can still care for my son a few days a week. The salary does not cover full time childcare and I'm sure they could use the cost saving of part time hours as they are a charity. I find out their decision tomorrow, but if they don't go for my suggestion it's nice to know I can still get a job in these austere times.

So today is not about her, it's all about me.

Just the way it should be :o)  

Words don't come easy (apparently)

My favourite misunderstanding this week was heard on Radio 4's Today programme when a reporter said, "cocaine growers say police make bad neighbours." Now had he used the correct intonation it would have sounded like, "cocaine growers, say police, make bad neighbours." Alternatively he could just have used better syntax and there would have been no confusion. It may be just me, but this kind of thing does stick in my mind.

I find it interesting that with the popularity of social media people are using the written word more visibly and I am now judging people I know on their use of grammar and punctuation. I appreciate that the brevity required to make a point in 140 characters can lead to some contracted words, but the paucity of some people's language really shocks me.

Now, I'm not expecting high literature, but some basics would be great. So as a rough guide please spare me the following:

"could of" - I will hit you - hard

"definately" - I will hit you and then hit you again - hard

"first world problems" - honestly, you're making this easy aren't you ? just stand still so I can hit you repeatedly

"epic fail" - used ironically just about ok, otherwise - this is hitting with a large spade material

"as of yet" - "yet" is fine - you don't need to say any more than that - enough !

"you can talk to myself" - no I can't, really, because I have already judged you to be a dunce and this will not end well.

That's a start. Just work on these for now and we'll get to the more complicated ones later.

Thank you :o)

Let me tell you about the birds & the birds and the bees & the bees.

To my beloved son,

As I type there is an urgent debate taking place on Twitter, in the Houses of Parliament and on news channels about the free vote taking place on marriage between gay couples. The most interesting part of this for me is how we retread the same old arguments for years and years. In my youth the debate was about 'promoting' homosexuality in schools - in other words acknowledging that some relationships exist outside of the man and woman scenario that was considered the norm. Of course you know that there is no such thing as 'the norm,' there is just who we are and how we live.

I heard a discussion on the radio this morning where a woman claimed that it was 'God's law' that marriage is only between a man and a woman. Now let's be clear where I stand on this issue. Anyone who wants to be married and who is free to in law should be able to. If they want to do this in a religious ceremony that is up to them and if they want to do this in a legal, but not religious way that is fine too. That means: a man and a woman who want to be married, a man and a man who want to be married or a woman and a woman who want to be married.

Can you believe there was a time when me and your Dad being married would have caused a similar hoo-ha because we have different coloured skin ? I know, I know, it's ridiculous the things that people think are any of their business.


You are nearly two and a half now and you have no preconceived ideas about the people in your life. I just have a few things that I need you to know and remember as you grow into the amazing man I know you'll be:

• Treating someone differently because of who they fancy is stupid, plain and simple. 

• I bitch-slapped a grown man (ok he was a young man, but he was in the army at the time) for repeatedly using the word gay in a pejorative way -  I will not hesitate to do it again.

• Whoever you fancy / adore / love we will always love you - there is no question. 

• If you want to marry or not marry the person you love you deserve the choice either way. 

Most important of all, to meet someone you love enough to want to marry them is a special gift - not everyone is that lucky.

If anyone tries to stop you from being with the person you love come and get me - I'm nowhere near out of slaps yet.

All my love always,

Mummy

With a big sigh and a heavy heart… a serious blog

I've lived for 42 years and in that time I've been made to realise that there are a lot of things about me that other people don't like. Some of them I can do something about - like talking too much, or having the wrong accent, or making a face that looks a bit too smug, or correcting poor spelling unasked. There are some things I can't do anything about, like the colour of my skin.

It amazes me that there are still people who think it's perfectly ok to make offensive remarks about race and treat it as normal or justifiable to do so. It upsets me, because my parents faced so much racism for so many years that I'm sure their only hope when it happened to them was that their children would be spared the indignity of the same.

My husband hadn't come across racism in his own life so when he married into an asian family it suddenly became a personal insult for someone to make derogatory remarks about asians as they were talking about his wife, or his mother-in-law or now his son. Imagine how much worse that is when it's a member of your own family making the remarks ?

When I was at university I shared a house with friends and we lived in an area on the outskirts of Coventry. On one occasion when I was walking home with one of my housemates and the local kids shouted out racist comments to me I ignored them and she went ballistic. It's not that I wasn't bothered. As I explained to her there is little point in telling them what they're saying is wrong when it's what they hear their parents say.

In the same vein I met up with a friend I used to go to school with when I was 8 just before she emigrated to Australia and we reminisced about some of our classmates. I have few fond memories of my school in Greenwich in the '70s when the National Front were still marching in the streets and me and my brother were the only asian children in the school until the Patels sent their daughters to the school.

My friendship with Nichola was one of the only things I recall with happiness. I was in a classroom where the teacher sat me with the only black child in the class - a strange form of selection as the other tables were based on academic ability not skin colour. One of my classmates gleefully shared that her mother had asked me to let her know when my Dad's head was better - as a Sikh he wears a turban.

Nic remarked that one of our classmates used to sing racist songs which I have no memory of at all. Maybe I've blanked it out like so much else that I don't want to recall. The interesting thing is that this lad had a promising career as a footballer, but his father was unwelcome at the Arsenal training ground due to his unreconstructed comments about people of other races. So that apple didn't fall too far from the tree then.

This has come up now because I read a comment on Facebook tonight that stunned me so much that initially I called it out for the racism is blatantly was. Then I decided that was probably too strong and decided to just say that it was offensive and inflammatory. When something like this happens I have to maintain my dignity and my ability to walk away.

I wish that I could believe I will never have to explain to my son what racism is.
I pray that in his life he doesn't hear the insults or the ignorance that make me so sad.
I hope that he is a kind and loving person regardless of what others say and do.

That's not too much to ask is it ?

I want world peace (and a flatter stomach please)

Last week I had a rare night out with some yummy mummies from a baby group I've taken my boy to for over a year. They really are yummy being slimmer, younger and considerably better looking than me (even the ones who are pregnant again - how demoralising is that ?) so I sat at the dumpy, middle-aged & unattractive section of the table that I had designated for myself. Envy is an ugly thing so I figured the noise of the restaurant and my distance from the others would disguise the gnashing of my teeth. I distracted myself from their loveliness by noshing my pasta and debating whether it would be a bad idea to order tiramisu. For the record, it is never a bad idea to order tiramisu unless you care about getting into slim fit jeans.

Then today a pal of mine has tweeted a link to an article about Aishwarya Rai and her post baby weight gain and the consternation it has caused the Indian media. For those unfamiliar with the phenomenon of Ash she is an ex-Miss World, Bollywood and Hollywood actress and married into the most famous acting family in India (her father in law was voted most popular movie actor in a BBC poll some years ago much to the shock of Westerners who had never heard of Amitabh Bachan). In November last year Aishwarya gave birth to a daughter and since then there has been fevered comment on her weight gain and apparent disinterest in losing it. According to the magazines and bitchy blogs in India it is her duty as a star to set a good example of a slim body and to "do a Posh." Of course we're all familiar with the slim body that slebs parade at six weeks post-partum and even I joked with the Obstetrician who performed my emergency Cesarean that I'd like a "Posh tuck." They must hear that joke at least ten times a day - poor loves smile weakly and just say "not on the NHS dearie."

My body loathing is legendary and a few years ago I finally slimmed down to a size ten and wore all the clothes I had thought I'd never get into. Then I fell pregnant and was overwhelmed with the love I felt for my swelling body when I was pregnant. I was so convinced that I'd be able to get back into the small sizes that the positivity gave way almost immediately that my son was born to a sense of failure that I wasn't as slim as every other new mother I met. There was even a woman a few beds away from me who didn't even look like she'd actually given birth despite the evidence to the contrary snoring softly in the cot next to her. My point is that we put ourselves under enough pressure to lose weight without other people reminding us that we're not as slim and our cheekbones aren't as defined as they once were.

I spent all afternoon sorting out my wardrobes and deciding not to dress like a frumpy Mummy any more. The saying goes that you should dress for the job you want. I can't see myself dressing in a bikini, but it's the only time in my life that I can even approximate looking like a Miss World. Take a look at the post baby Aishwarya and see if you think I have any hope at all…

Let's hear it for the boy... who wears glasses

I've always been fascinated by the idea that a man becomes more distinguished with age while a woman just gets castigated for trying too hard to hold onto her youth. Similarly wearing glasses is not considered a passion killer for men, but the old phrase 'men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses' was so deeply ingrained in my psyche that I refused to be seen in public in my glasses for the first ten years of my glasses wearing life. Even now I am convinced that I'm treated differently when I wear them, although it's probably the rest of my 'can't be bothered to make an effort' outfit of jogging bottoms and ragged old uni sweatshirt that give offence rather than my eyewear.

For my own part I've always been partial to a bookish looking chap (Exhibit A: Hubbie) and think that it's quite sexy to look a bit nerdy. I prefer to know that a man can speak another language as it just isn't appealing to me to be able to bench press a London bus. Of course if the man in question is also stacked that's a bonus, but I'm guilty of assuming that if he's pretty or fit he's probably a bit thick. In my dating days I was set up with a chap who I was assured was just right for me. As were they all, but proved in reality the legend 'no plan can withstand contact with the enemy' to be true. This truism was etched onto the wall of my friend's downstairs loo for many years (and probably still is).

I digress, of course, but the point is that once I met this man he was as far from right for me as humanly possible. It started off ok with his impressive collection of vinyl and a lovely flat with skylight in the leafy environs of Southfields. He showed me his car - which he loved and which was made of plastic and was an Alpha Romeo and was red. That's all I recall of the car - sorry Top Gear fanatics. We were supposed to have lunch, but for some reason we ended up eating cheese on toast in his flat - oh don't worry it gets worse.  For a start he didn't appear to have any books. I asked if he read and he told me of course he did and pointed out the motoring magazines on the coffee table. Sharp intake of breath as I realised I was in the company of someone who owned no books, not a one. Now I may have mentioned this before, but I will say it again for emphasis. If you say to me that you don't read you may as well say that you kill small animals for fun or you eat children for a snack.

It's almost as bad as when I was set up with a man who "is just right for you - he likes films." Now there's my "likes films" which is the Blues Brothers, Some Like it Hot and Blade Runner and there was his which was pretty much Star Wars and that's it. The only saving grace was that we could blend in and avoid each other as we were at a fancy dress party where I went as Minnie Mouse (with ears I'd fashioned from a cereal packet) and he was some unidentified african leader. I shudder to imagine who exactly it was in those pre-freed Nelson Mandela days.

I guess my point is that you can't really decide who someone else is going to be attracted to based on what you know about them. Some people genuinely do like the opposite of themselves and some prefer a person who likes all the same things as them. I even know one couple who look so alike that they used to be mistaken for siblings rather than husband and wife - now that is just icky !!

Which brings me back to men who look a bit clever (whether or not they wear glasses) and as always to George Clooney who is both hunky and clever, John Cusack who is super clever and more than a little handsome and Alex O'Loughlin who… well he's just delicious so who cares if he's bright ?

Clooney in cuffs causes chaos

This afternoon the news wires almost melted at the overexcited news that George Clooney had been arrested during a protest. Even Krishnan Gurumurthy - an otherwise respectable news journo type - delivered a breathy promo for Channel 4 news exclaiming that we should all contain our excitement at Clooney in handcuffs. This evening he's been released having posted bail of around £63 ($100) and has notched up a few more cool points which he kind of lost having appeared in the Kony video without his knowledge. 

At the same time the director of the Kony film (Jason Russell) has allegedly been arrested for public disorder of the drunken and masturbatory kind. Not really what we expect of an evangelical Christian and father of two young children who likes to make manipulative videos with dubious factual content. We completely expect Clooney to get arrested at a protest, just like we expect Sean Penn to offer an opinion on international politics without irony or reference to the country he calls home. Just like we expect Angelina Jolie to pitch up after a humanitarian crisis with her shopping list of criteria for the next addition to the Jolie-Pitt brood. 

I'm not cynical about movie stars getting involved in politics, but I am disinterested in them wandering in to foreign countries to research a supposed answer and reporting back to the rest of us. It's not as if America doesn't have poverty, natural disasters or racially motivated conflicts. It just isn't quite as easy to fix if it's on home turf. 

A dual approach has to be the way to go as far as I'm concerned. Get involved locally and take an interest internationally and at least you've got your bases covered. If you are very concerned about the poor children in Africa, but are sniffy about someone who sleeps in a doorway and begs for some change from you I'd say you've got a perspective issue to deal with. 

Fame does add kudos to a good cause though and if you don't have a celebrity endorsement you can kiss farewell to any donations until you get a minor soap actress or reality star to tell Hello magazine how great you are. I only mention this as I've gone back into fundraising and it is terrifying and lonely all at once. 

I have an office all by myself, a cause I've never fundraised for before and I work in a school which I pretty much swore I'd never do again once I completed my teaching degree. Add to this the fact that I miss being with my son and I have to admit it's not looking like a triumphant return to work for me. More like an elaborate attempt to get out of running around after the toddler from the Weetabix commercial every day.

Well at least it's the weekend tomorrow and I have a long yoga class on Saturday afternoon and hopefully a lovely relaxing Mothering Sunday. In the meantime I can consider my days of actually doing something worthwhile and ponder whether I would have gotten arrested for any of the causes I worked for. If there was a chance of being cuffed to Gorgeous George… probably. Otherwise… probably not. 

Handle with care

Councils refer record number of 

children into care

The number of children referred into care in England has hit a record high.

Continue reading the main story

Last month, local authorities made 903 court applications to take children into care - the highest since courts service Cafcass was set up in 2001.

Numbers have been rising since late 2008 and the infamous Baby P case involving the death of a toddler while on the at-risk register in London.

Cafcass boss Anthony Douglas said: "All agencies need to factor in these much larger increases into their planning."

This story is taken from the BBC News website today and refers to a story that I actually predicted about two years ago. If you have known me for a while you are probably worn out from listening to me mithering on about how the care system is flawed and children are the last consideration in the entire process. For those who are late to the party I'll give you a brief catch up.

When Hubbie and I discussed our family plans we agreed that we would like to have a family that included adopted children. Our attempts to have a baby stalled so we decided to take the adoption route sooner than we'd expected. I had fond recollections of the work of Dr Barnardo being a good thing for poor children so we went to them for our assessment having been told by local authorities that they wouldn't have suitable children for us. Croydon even invited us with about ten other couples to an information morning where eventually they told us that if we lived in the borough we wouldn't be considered suitable. Having written to us all at our Croydon home addresses you'd think they could have saved themselves the biscuits and tea wouldn't you ? 

We underwent the long process of being assessed as suitable adopters including long personal interviews and producing family trees and analysing the effects of our own childhoods on our expectations of parenting. Eventually we were approved by a panel of 13 strangers as suitable and we thought it was going to be a simple case of being matched with children who would be our family. Instead we looked at the profiles of children who were waiting to be adopted and made enquiries whenever we saw any that were asian and white (as we'd been advised to). Also, we were invited to show interest in children who were suggested to us including a family of three siblings, 4 children of a family of 8 and a range of other children from all over the country. 

Our profile had a lovely photo of us and made the case for us to be considered by the local authorities with children in their care. Months passed and we were turned down for a range of reasons including: my faith, Hubbie's lack of faith, my not being the correct faith, we have a cat, etc. and in some cases we weren't even given a reason. 


After a year of looking at the same few asian/white children and being turned down for all of them we were invited to take part in a course which would help us to understand the process and make sense of the long wait. It was run by a man called Ivan who began by saying that if we were willing to wait in a matter of months the care system would be overwhelmed with children being taken from families as a knee-jerk response to the Baby P case (knee-jerk being my words not his). At the time it seemed so obvious and so stupid that I didn't want to believe it could be true. I already knew that social workers were running scared of making a bad decision so they weren't making any decisions and were leaving children in temporary family arrangements for longer and longer.


Our own experience of trying to adopt children was really disheartening. When friends went through the same assessment process and actually managed to successfully adopt their wonderful son it was such a breath of fresh air to see that it can work. 


I have only praise for a Government trying to improve the lives of cared for children as they truly are the forgotten ones in all this. While there is so much rhetoric about doing the best for looked after children they are left in wrecked families while social services give repeated chances to parents who cannot cope or have an over inflated sense of their own competence. Sadly so many children in care keep hoping to return to their own family, however broken it might have been, just so long as they have some permanence and stability in their lives and a bedroom of their own. 


Ultimately children want to be safe and happy. This can be in a family with two parents, one parent, people of the same sex, people of different races or religions, with or without pets, a house with or without a garden and many other features. 


Until all the agencies concerned understand that children are the most important consideration we will keep seeing disappointing headlines. While we're distracted by discussions about middle class white families being denied the opportunity to adopt black children the record numbers being taken into care wait and wait. The one thing missing in all this is the voice of the children themselves. 

How about this radical idea - why not listen to the children ? 

My fair lady ( Oh wouldn't it be luvverly ?)

In the last two days I've been following two news stories that show how important we feel it is to be fair. In the case of an LA fitness gym insisting on a couple paying their 2 year membership despite them being close to destitute there was outrage on Twitter. In the end for fear of further opprobrium the gym chain climbed down and waived the contractual arrangement. Cue hand wringing and wailing and gnashing of teeth over how hideous the contracts are when we all know that it's people paying up front and not using the gym that renders profit and enables people like me to have so many free trial sessions.

The other story being played out today on local news radio is that babies will need paid for tickets to attend Olympic events. The last I heard they were reconsidering this as various Mummy websites and even the (mostly useless) equality and human rights commission suggested there might be a case for claiming sex discrimination if a mother taking a child to the games was required to pay for that child. I bought tickets to some events and at the time had no idea I was also expected to buy tickets for my son. There is no question of him not coming with us. How can I not take him to a once in a lifetime event taking place in his own home town ?  Mumsnet and Netmums - for all the pointless meandering tub thumping about mini dramas that affect their precious little Avi-Mays and Ocean-Blues - do stand up for the things that they believe to be fair.

My own issue with fairness is one that causes people to look away muttering in almost complete disgust. I am the person who does the unthinkable. I check the bill at the end of the meal and work out what everyone owes in order to be fair to all - it's not popular and it's completely unEnglish. I have a strong opinion about why it is important to do this and there are two meals in particular that have caused me to become the human calculator and social pariah.

Firstly when I was a student I didn't have a lot of money, but I did work during holidays and even during term time to finance my way through my degree studies. I still met up with friends who I had worked with in my Saturday job at a library and at one particular Christmas meal I ordered one course - the cheapest dish - and one soft drink as I knew I didn't have the means to splash out. The senior librarians ordered massive sharing starters, expensive main courses and puddings, wine and coffees. When the bill came they split it 5 ways and I didn't want to make a fuss so I ended up subsidising their meals by paying well over the £10 that my meal had actually cost.

The second time was when a friend chose a reasonably priced venue for his 30th birthday which was offering a three course menu for £16. Me and hubbie went along and the other diners had already been drinking before we arrived. They had ordered champagne for the birthday boy (very generous we thought) and they also thought it would be a wheeze to order him some shots - after all you only turn 30 once don't you ? When the bill came it was carved up and we were told we owed £45. I questioned how this was so when I hadn't had any alcohol and hubbie had one beer and our food was only £16. A recalculation was done and we were still ordered to part with £30 each. That means my cup of tea and hubbie's beer cost £14 each.

I vowed from then on to not be taken advantage of again when other 'friends' decide to be generous with my money.

This was tested when I was on a skiing holiday with some friends in Whistler and we went out for dinner with a couple we didn't know very well, but who seemed nice enough. He wanted to order a particular bottle of red wine and we said that was fine, but we didn't want any. When the bottle came he insisted we try it which we politely did. So when he divided the bill up for us all to pay I said that wasn't fair as one of us had only eaten soup and the others hadn't ordered the wine. We paid for what we had eaten and included a tip. The correct money in the dish we all got ready to leave and he again asked us for money for a tip which we explained to him we'd already included. He had expected us to subsidise his choice of wine and we were pretty clear that wasn't going to happen.

I don't think twice about challenging bill payments now as I think I'm old enough not to care if someone is offended by me saying I'll only pay what I owe. We're all on a budget these days so if you want to splash out pay for yourself - it's only fair.

Fairness is a simple concept and one that in principle we all agree with. It's just that some people think it's only fair to take advantage of others. It's a small stand to say no I won't pay for your dinner, or your extravagance in wine or cocktails, but it's a start.

Oh and I'm taking my son to the Olympic games whatever Seb Coe says - and so there !

Putting the Yummy into Mummy - one cake at a time :o)

One of the highlights of being a stay at home Mum and housewife (besides the obvious one of being with my boy) is that I can indulge my love of cooking and cookery programmes. I am selective though and very snobby about what I consider worthy of my precious viewing time when the baby is asleep.

I cannot abide the 'food porn' style of cooking: Nigella, Lorraine Pascal and Sophie Dahl seduce with food. They caress, tease and flirt with the camera. Very little is said about how to cook the dish and no actual instructions are involved. Nigella is far too busy telling us about how she entertains her retinue of adoring guests who fawn over her gingerbread, Lorraine Pascal keeps referring to her international pedigree (a Polish aunt and some Italian heritage apparently) while Sophie floats through her show as though she's advertising Cadburys Flake. When we do get a reference to the cooking it's all a bit vague - her pinch is my handful and when will they give the temperature in gas marks for those of us cursed with terrible ovens ?

Lest ye think I am being sexist I also loathe Jamie Oliver for his freehand pouring of olive oil like it's on offer in Sainsburys. That's not a splash you fool it's half a bottle !! His other crime (although he's far from alone) is to constantly say "the smells are amazing" are they Jamie ? I'll take your word for it as I didn't get a scratch and sniff card with the Radio Times.

Rick Stein is another one I fast forward on Saturday Kitchen. I think it's down to a personal grudge against him because I once stayed in Padstow while working in Cornwall and was horrified to discover that it's not even a one horse town, but has a great antiquated book shop. I was so disappointed that I didn't even try his food and bought something from Budgens instead which is how come I found the bookshop where I spent the evening browsing Dickens rather than sampling his seafood delights.

Nigel Slater is the exception for me as he only ever uses about 4 ingredients (supplemented with herbs from his garden) and few measurements or exact timings, but is so personable that I don't mind. He makes it look like you could just put something together after watching his programme with the things in your cupboards. Unlike Delia whose motto seems to be why use only 5 ingredients when 15 and something we've never used before will do ? Remember it's thanks to Deals that we have limes in our supermarkets as she caused a run on them when she made a recipe featuring a lime and they were not widely available at the time.

Delia was scathing about TV chefs endorsing supermarket products and openly criticised them until Waitrose came a knocking with clearly just enough money to buy her endorsements and recipe cards. Don't get me wrong, I'm the first to pick up her cards and have a stack of them with my cookbooks. Feel free to promote a supermarket I have no issue with it. I do, however, take issue with her Christmas cake recipe which I've cooked two years in a row using the pre-measured ingredients and followed the instructions to the letter and it's been soggy in the middle both times.

Mary Berry joined the 'make your own cake using this bag of stuff' brigade this year and as well as a traditional fruitcake she also offered delicious and simple cupcakes (also pre-measured) and the recipe is so simple I've kept it to make from scratch. I'm delighted she's back in fashion as her Christmas cupcakes saved the day for me ! Mary Berry was my first love with baking - years ago I used to make and decorate cakes for my siblings' birthdays so if you see a birthday photo featuring a calculator cake, a hedgehog or a dolly that'll be my handiwork.

Of course it's thanks to the Great British Bake Off that Mary has made her triumphant return, but it is one of the shows I don't watch. That and Masterchef, because while I find Greg Wallace very amusing I cannot watch John Torode. It was his one time covering for James Martin on Saturday Kitchen when he kept telling the chefs to wash their hands like an overeager Home Economics teacher. It is, of course, good sense, but it's also very dull.

I'd make a terribly boring TV chef as I'm a precise cook. I measure everything and follow the recipe to the letter (if I use one). Having said that I'm not too proud to do a cooking programme and if asked I'd be right in there. It seems you don't need to be an actual chef to get a TV show now, just someone who has cooked something once in your life - that's me qualified then.

Of course my first loyalty is to the one and only Come Dine With Me because I prefer my cooking programmes with a heavy handful of sarcasm. That is also the reason why I'd never apply to go on the show. When they were looking for contestants in Croydon one of my friends even sent me the application form. I politely informed her and everyone else who suggested I apply that the very reason I watch it is why I wouldn't go on it. I love shouting out "if you don't eat anything why are you on a cooking competition !!!" and I'd end up yelling at my guests if I did do it.

Also, I am guilty of equating food with love as that's how I was brought up. If anyone criticised my food I'd take it so personally I'd probably come across as a total loser. I never assume my cooking is anything other than adequate, but at the very least I like to cook things most people will enjoy. There are some ingredients I just can't stand. Cooked bananas just don't do it for me, yet I still make banana bread and ply hubbie and my reflexologist with it to buy favours at a later date.

I'm now that person who consults a handful of cookbooks (or t'internet) if I have some pecans to use up or some treacle that I forgot about in the back of the cupboard. Christmas was kind to me and I now have a brilliant selection of cook books to refer to, including one called the Meatfree Monday cookbook that I won from Ocado that was signed by Paul, Stella and Mary McCartney - which was nice.

Just don't ask me what my favourite dish is. Depending on the day of the week it'll either be a fishfinger sandwich or parmagiano melanzane. Now that would get me onto CDWM !!

Twenty Twelve Vision

As everyone else is saying how rubbish 2011 has been I thought I'd offer my own review of a year that has been a bit of a curate's egg. I've watched Charlie Brooker's Newswipe and it pretty much encapsulated the news events for me, so I refer you to that for the newsy / political perspective done far better than I would have managed it.

The year began with a very close friend coming back from the dead. I mean properly actually dying then having the paddles to bring her back (like in the movies). I put it down to a desperate need for attention myself - it had been a few years since she got married and our friends live in other parts of the world so it took something radical  in order to get them to call. Mission accomplished. She is under strict orders not to repeat this so we're all waiting with bated breath to see what fresh capers she has planned…

I had my first Mother's Day as a mother this year. Of course my son was oblivous to the significance of this. In later years he may badly wrap a gift to give me, but for now I'm content that hubbie helps and we kid ourselves he has any idea what is going on. (I have deliberately left this dubious so you can decide who I mean).

In May we sold our house - the first home me and hubbie have owned together. The home we brought our son back from the hospital to. The home we brought Neo from Battersea Cats & Dogs Home to. Of course it took months to actually move (see Oct), but someone came to see it in May and said she'd buy it. Result !

To everyone else August in London was about lunatics in balaclavas nicking TVs from the walls of betting shops. For my family it was all about the "Monsoon Wedding" of my youngest sister complete with a flower strewn Ambassador and bangra rhythms. It was also a chance for Khushbir to dress up in his Bollywood finery and impress everyone by applauding at the speeches.

Having enjoyed a year of playgroups, back-to-back Come Dine With Me and cups of tea with other Mums the time came to return to work and in September I went back to a new location, but the same colleagues. I'm not sure if it just because I had been away and I missed my boy, but going back to work was truly hideous. The only silver lining in all this was that my boy had his first birthday at the end of September and we celebrated with cake and hats and singing so now he knows that the correct response to a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday is to put out his hand for a piece of cake. That's my boy !

After months of frantic phone calls between vendors, buyers, the bank, the estate agents and solicitors we finally moved house in October. We paid to have a company move all our belongings, which I admit does make life much simpler, but isn't entirely foolproof. We had boxes marked as containing curtains with kitchen items and picture frames in. I wasn't sure if this was simply a mistake or an elaborate attempt to make us laugh when unpacking. The final straw for me was having to wear the same two pairs of shoes for weeks until I looked in the box marked "baby's room" which had all my shoes in it the entire time !

In November after weeks of going into work and being pretty much ignored and sidelined I decided to leave. It wasn't the simplest decision, but one that having been made proved to be the best course of action. My work colleagues continued to ignore me and on my last day only two people actually wished me well. If I could be bothered I'd take up a case of constructive dismissal, but frankly being able to spend every day with my boy is the best outcome I could have asked for - regardless of how I came to it.

So we come to the last month of the year when I had already finished going into work and was able to concentrate on preparing for Christmas and more importantly the wedding of our own TOWIE stars. I love, love, love weddings and this one was in a fairytale setting (albeit in Essex) with the funniest best man's speech we've heard in a while.

My year began with a friend's health scare and it ends the same way. A good friend has been diagnosed with breast cancer and will be undergoing treatment in early January. She is my age and has a young son. Whatever else happens in 2012 we've already agreed to go shopping for wigs together and discussed how to wear scarves at a jaunty angle to cover hair loss.

I hope 2012 brings you happiness, good health an abundance of love and just enough wealth to not spoil you.

You 'n' Resolutions

In a few weeks time most of us will be considering what to resolve to stop doing on 31st Dec 2011 and what to start doing on 1st Jan 2012. Channelling my inner psychic I predict that there will be a few who will resolve to stop smoking, drink less, lose weight, change job, make money and a few who resolve to move house. Resolutions tend to be a public declaration to do something that we haven't really committed to, but we feel obliged to start a new year with a new set of (old) aims. Of course if you really want to make a significant change in your life any day should be fine - why wait until 1st January ?

In the spirit of doing something realistic I've compiled a list of actions. If you just pick one to do - on any day you like - consider it a get out of jail free card with your resolutions later. Don't send me a Christmas card - even if it does donate 5% to charity - just pick something from the list and give it a go.

1. Register as an organ donor
2. Volunteer in your local community
3. Give blood
4. Make something with your own hands and give it to someone
5. Join your local freecycle group
6. Visit or write to an older person you know (no Santa does not count !)
7. Give away those old clothes / books / bric-a-brac you've been meaning to throw out for years
8. Instead of sending a text message or an email to a friend call them and have a conversation

Let me know how you get on :o)

Hair today, shave tomorrow (well Dec actually)

Something has happened to my male friends. They have replaced their normal photos on facebook (amusing cartoon depictions or ironic images) with what looks like those photos that are taken in shopping centres where you dress up as a person from the olden days. Not all of them are hirsute so this sudden need to grow facial fuzz is in some cases wildly disturbing. The ones who are naturally young looking now look like extras from Starsky and Hutch and others who are naturally hirsute now look like the station master from the Railway children.

The reason is - of course - Movember (see link at end of blog) which seems to have captured the interest where other causes have feared to tread. The traditional charity donor is a woman, older and gives to a range of causes. This donor would give a small amount regularly while alive then leave her entire life savings in her will to an animal charity causing a lengthy probate dispute with her family who had no idea that the donkeys would get the proceeds from the sale of her bungalow. As these lovely donors die off charities have desperately tried to diversity their donor base and have had to come up with new ways to appeal for funds. 

In order to get men to donate to charity the challenge fundraising event was born and we have seen the walk along the Great Wall, the trek to the base camp of Everest or the cycle ride in Vietnam. This time, however, someone has hit on an idea so simple it is genius. Ask men not to do something and to get sponsored for it. I've lost count of the number of times a man has complained about having to shave, so the idea of not doing it must be like Christmas, New Year and England being in the World Cup Final all at once. 

I doubt any charity, however forward thinking is going to encourage women to grow hair for sponsorship. If they did we could look forward to the prospect of breast cancer charities publicising "pits for tits." Do you find waxing taxing ? Never fear, grow your hair and instead of being a social pariah you will be adored for being the wonderful fundraiser you are. Nah, I just don't see it. The most a man can expect to suffer is some mild ridicule for growing a moustache, a woman ditching the bleach and wax or going all Frida Kahlo is just going to look like she's neglecting her personal appearance.

For now I'm enjoying seeing the transition from respectable looking man to porn star to Burt Reynolds tribute act. Good luck to all my friends who are taking part in Movember and if you want to know more - go here: Movember

"It's a moo point - a cow's opinion" (Joey from Friends)

Someone said something the other day that made me feel that my parenting was inferior to a friend's. It was an innocent remark and nothing was meant by it - in fact she was complimenting the other woman's child. I took it personally on behalf of my son. Then someone sent one of those feel good email stories featuring a heartwarming tale about the innocence of youth. I wondered if this really was a story about cute innocence or a comment about how foolish the child was to think that God was taking her photo when lightning flashed.

Feeling offended on behalf of others could be a full time occupation for me if I didn't have plenty else to do. I used to get offended by every little thing and then I realised it was pretty pointless. After all, just as I have an opinion about every little thing so does the person who's saying something critical to or about me. Instead of arguing the toss I'd rather try and find something vaguely amusing about their efforts.

The vehemence of atheists always interests me as they spend an inordinate amount of effort criticising something they don't believe in. I do have a faith and if someone doesn't it really isn't something I feel bad about. I'm not going to spend energy convincing someone to believe in God if they don't want to - that's like trying to get my husband to eat cauliflower by calling it gobi instead. If you spend time espousing the wisdom of Richard Dawkins, why not just go the whole nine yards - wear a nice suit and knock on doors to tell people to believe in him like you do.

Similarly it baffles me that there are meat eaters who get very irate about vegetarianism, as though it's a personal affront. Why does someone else not eating meat in any way affect your life ? Do you secretly feel bad about it or is it a way of asserting a primal urge now that you don't have to go out and chase your food to death ? It just isn't the same when it's already dead and packaged nicely in convenient portions delivered by Marlon from Waitrose in the strawberry van now is it ?

I'm not militant about food or about religion - it's personal. However, one of many points of intolerance for me is when a person says they don't vote and justifies this decision with "it makes no difference, they're all the same." Well, so are people who don't vote. You have rendered yourself ineligible to express an opinion if you can't even be bothered to take part in the process. Just as I judge anyone who writes 'could of,' 'alot' or 'definately' as illiterate, if you tell me there's no point in voting consider anything said after that as having disappeared into the ether as I just stopped listening to you. 

For the same reasons not everyone will have made it as far as this sentence (unless you're one of those 'speed reader' types who reads the last line to see if it's worth reading the bit in the middle) - if you did, thanks :o) 

Bully for you

A you tube video of Asyraf Haziq - the Malaysian student who was mugged following an attack that left him with a broken jaw - became news last week. I don't need to see people being cruel to know that it happens and to be shocked by it. What followed was a flood of sympathy and support for him as the innocent in the chaos of rioting who became caught up in events that he had no involvement in. It made me angry and it left me feeling sick about the mentality of those who not only beat him up initially, but those who then robbed him. It wasn't just criminal, it was old fashioned bullying. 

Then yesterday there was a news report claiming that a third of teachers have been bullied online by parents using facebook. Cyberbullying - as it's being called - is just the most recent development in an age old form of abuse that I've recently had a smidgen of experience of. Whether at school or at work or even at home being bullied has at various times just been a part of my everyday life. After a while it's just how life is and goes some way to explaining why I get so angry about what I see as injustice and unfairness.

It fascinates me what drives some to bully and others to be the ones who are bullied. I've often heard people say that bullies are victims themselves. I'm afraid I can't concur. As someone who has been on the receiving end of bullying at many different stages in life I don't think I've visited it on others as a result. It does make me wonder if some of us are predisposed to being bullied either by virtue of what we look like or how we respond to bullies. I can't recall a time when I've actually confronted a bully, so maybe that and my desperation to be liked makes it easy for them ? 

Of course this doesn't explain why pick on someone who is already bleeding or a person who is doing their job and you just don't like them or what they say. I do wonder what became of the girls who bullied me at school. Did walking behind me in the playground and pushing me or stealing my school bag lead to a fulfilling adult life or are they as pointless now as they were back then ? It's probably all coming back to me because I'm traumatised at the thought of sending my son to a nursery. I know that this is the beginning of leaving him to find his way with other children and he has to learn to be independent and to stand up for himself. I just wish that I didn't keep finding evidence the people can be really nasty and they don't need a reason. 

An obituary for Croydon

This morning I took a bus into town and saw a bike shop with windows smashed and Richer Sounds boarded up. It was so close that last night me and hubbie literally sat in the front room fully dressed until 3.30 am in case we needed to get our family out of Croydon to safety.

The last time I was this terrified it was 1977 and the National Front were marching past our family home  - the flat above my parents shop (yes it was on the corner - ha ha very funny). At that time I had no idea why they were marching or who they were, just that my parents had closed up the shop and were peering through the closed curtains. No one should ever see their family this frightened.

I relived that memory today as I felt sick, scared and disbelieving. I don't know what the appropriate response is to feeling afraid that your family might get hurt, but one person (who is abroad right now) kept referring to other people she'd spoken to being 'level-headed' about it. I guess being in another country and watching news footage doesn't automatically make us all experts in empathy.

This afternoon the police issued photos of people who broke into the large retail stores on Purley Way and other stores that have CCTV. The fact that they so blatantly disregarded any need for disguise shows either supreme arrogance or a belief that there will be no consequences for their actions. I sincerely hope they are wrong.

The sordid case of life imitating art...

You know how the saying goes 'there is a novel inside all of us' ? Well, a few years ago - with some prompting - I decided to unleash that novel. It was a vanity project really as I was convinced that my wit and intelligence would light up the pages and it would be a runaway success. Instead I laboured over this work and found that the characters took on a life of their own and at times I really struggled to find 'their voices.' It wasn't as simple as it seemed when I narrated possible chapters in my head while cleaning or running. Once in front of the screen all my genius prose dried up and I was left with clunky paragraphs that didn't really follow on from each other. I asked a friend to read it and he was nice about it, but I didn't submit it to anyone as it was never finished and I wasn't sure it would be of interest to anyone else. This was about ten years ago.

Then my life started to resemble events in my novel. Things my protagonist did or said which I'd forgotten writing about happened in my life and I wasn't sure whether I was subconsciously channelling the character I'd written or it was just unfortunate coincidence. Then recently I watched a Channel 4 Dispatches programme about the murder of Anni Dewani (Hindocha) in South Africa on her honeymoon. I realised that her name was the same as my character (and the same spelling) and there were startling similarities in her story with the exception that my character wasn't murdered, but left for dead at the beginning of the novel. It was so chilling I decided that in the interests of public safety the novel inside me is best left unwritten !!

"Rebekah, you're fired !" Go on Rupes, grow a pair and do it !!

That News Corp have withdrawn from the bidding process for BSkyB was nothing like as unexpected as the rapid closure of the NOTW.  What is surprising is that someone as egotisical as Rupert (Montgomery Burns) Murdoch has actually jumped before being pushed. His continued faith in Rebekah Brooks (nee Wade) and the blatant disregard with which he sacked people who had nothing to do with the phone hacking paint the picture of a Randolph Hearst character (albeit a less portly depiction than the one Orson Welles made infamous). The political rats throwing themselves over the side rather than admit to having made nice with the Murdoch empire only serve to prove how absolute power corrupts absolutely (to paraphrase). Not one of the main parties comes out of this clean.

Why anyone is in any way surprised that it wasn't just movie stars and John Prescott who were hacked is a mystery. Does anyone truly believe that newspapers write actual news ? Years ago I knew a woman who went on to become Paul Merton's second wife. At the time she had started seeing him her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend was doorstopped by the NOTW and asked if he knew that she was having an affair. She found out who had told them as the person had all new furniture paid for by the snooping hacks.

We've known for years that the famous can expect their rubbish to be rifled through and 'sources close to' often means the person's own PR. It isn't exactly a massive leap of faith to see that with the growth of mobile communication it was going to be the next source of information. Private conversations and personal information being made public has led to suspicion being laid at the wrong door and innocent people being sacked (eg. personal assistants to famous folk).

My father-in-law refuses to own a mobile phone and is highly critical of what appears to be an over-reliance on them. He is giddy with schadenfreude over this story as he sees it as proof that nothing good can come of being so available. He reads the Daily Mail so I'm waiting to hear where he thinks they get their 'facts' from.