It's not all work, work, work you know :)

When the boy was born I stayed at home for a full year to be with him. Then I went back to my job and soon after decided I didn't want to be a working mum and took the redundancy package on offer and stayed home with him until now. As he's going to school in September I've decided it's time for me to look for work that fits in with this big change. As I review my work history it brings to mind something that Hubbie said to me recently. Hold onto your hats...

This is a good one...

You won't see this coming...

*clears throat*

I am the real Miss Rabbit !!

I know, it's a bit of a shock. I'll give you a minute to process that fact before we move on. *makes a cup of tea* 

Now you've had a few minutes to recover, maybe I should clarify what I mean. To be exact Hubbie calls me a cross between Miss Rabbit and Nessa from Gavin and Stacey. You see every now and again I will drop into the conversation a job I have done that is so random that it sounds like it can't be true. It's not deliberate, like a humble brag, "Oh, yes it was like when I parked cars for the Sultan of Brunei and he let me keep a Ferrari." It's far less exotic than that.

Would you employ this woman ? 

On holiday when I made the boys toasted waffles with chocolate spread and strawberries I mentioned that I don't eat them myself any more. Years ago there was a Belgian waffle van in Ealing Broadway next to the jewellery stall that I worked on. The woman who ran the stall was my Maths teacher's wife - he looked like Bluto from Popeye - and the lad who used to wheel the barrow out in the morning and back into storage at night was called Vince and smelled of weed. The lads on the fruit stall opposite used to undercharge me - the perks of being 'colleagues' - and I learned all the different names for semi-precious stones, but never worked out how to put the puzzle ring back together.

Hubbie laughed.

It was just the latest in a long line of jobs that I've done that sound made up but they really aren't. I mean why would I make up that one ? It's not beyond reasonable to have done so many different things. It is rare for anyone to stay in the same job for years and years any more and if you think about it I've worked since I was 16 and I'm 44 now, so my having done a crazy number of jobs isn't so unlikely is it ? So when I say something like, "I was interviewed for a radio show in Sierra Leone," I'm not trying to show off, I probably forgot about it until the moment I just said it.

At times it must sound like I'm lying, but I'm not. I really did work in Transylvania and yes the water was poisonous, but the alcohol was not. When you put it like that it does indeed sound a bit bizarre.  

Yes, I really did meet the actual Sheriff of Nottingham. No, I really did. His name was Mr Fulton. He was very friendly, not like the Alan Rickman one at all.

The other Sheriff of Nottingham.

It seems unlikely, but I did travel to Cork on Sept 12th 2001 with my boss and it took us over 2 hours to check in because they had suddenly introduced new security measures in light of the attack on the twin towers the day before.

When I worked for a paging company I was often mistaken for a doctor because I had a 'beeper.' Well, that and the fact that I'm asian, I guess. The boss really did say that he thought mobile phones were a phase and he had no idea who any of the acts were that he had voted for as one of the judges of the inaugural Mercury Music Prize.

And finally, should you ever find yourself in possession of a copy of the electronic version of the PUSH guide to which university (1997 edition) that is indeed my voice on the CD. I had high hopes of a career as a voiceover artist, but alas, it was not to be.

So, I haven't driven an Eddie Stobart truck or worked as a living statue like Nessa, nor am I part of the Mummy's volunteer fire service or a helicopter pilot like Miss Rabbit, but on my past form surely it's only a matter of time before those are on my CV too ?

In the meantime please wish me luck with my job search :)

Could this be my next job ?

Not a lot of people know that.

My boy makes me laugh for so many reasons. He makes me laugh because he knows his name - including two middle names - and he knows Daddy's full name - he has one middle name - he even knows that the cat has two names, but if you ask him my name it's Mummy. He knows that he is 3 and will be 4, that Daddy is 41, but apparently Mummy is one.

I like the air of mystery that I seem to hold for my boy. Like when I found out that my Mother could whistle, not just a demure, 'put your lips together and blow' type whistle, but proper loud one using fingers. This was disturbing not only because I found out when I was an adult, but because I then wondered under what circumstances she has ever needed to use this macho whistling technique ! What it did was give me an insight into my Mum as a person and not just as my parent. One day my boy will also realise that there is a lot he doesn't know about me. You can have a sneak preview:

I'm not really interested in ice cream: 

At the Royal Cornwall Show the other week as we stood in line waiting for him to get his face painted I sent Hubbie off to buy two ice cream cones - one for him and one for the boy. He got back to us and handed me one of them and held onto the other one. I was wrapping a napkin around the base of the cone to stop it melting all over his hand. The boy looked at both his parents with an ice cream cone and let out a little sigh and an "Ohhhh," of sadness thinking we had forgotten to get him one. It was so sweet.

Strawberries, yes please. Chocolate spread, no thank you :) 

I don't eat chocolate spread: 

On the penultimate morning of our holiday I revealed that I had brought a jar of chocolate spread with us as well as the jam, marmite, peanut butter and honey I had so diligently packed. The boy had been out feeding farm animals with Daddy so I thought they deserved a special treat. I made them both toasted waffles with chocolate spread and fresh strawberries. As put it on the table the boy looked at it and asked, "is that for me Mummy ?" I said, "yes," he said, "to eat ?" I laughed and told him it was. He looked at Hubbie who shrugged and then they both tucked in lest I changed my mind.

Custard makes me gag:

I just can't bring myself to eat it. Whether in a trifle or in a tart. I have to ask for crumble without custard and more than once I've been given a stare of incredulity when I've disclosed my phobia of custard. Ok phobia is a bit far, I just don't like it. No, not even custard creams. I will buy ready made custard for the boys, but I don't eat it myself or lick it off my hand if it spills when I'm opening a carton of it for one of them to eat *shudders*

I have visited every city and many towns in England:

In two separate jobs I've toured the country doing public speaking and it's meant there are few places I haven't visited at least once. Of course I haven't spent 'quality time' in all of these places, but on visiting somewhere I can usually say, "yes I've been here before," and recall some pointless fact about the place that would make a stand up proud. Talking of which...

I did one of the first stand up courses in London and used to do impro

This is how I met some of my closest friends, we were all doing silly things together in after work classes. The stand up itself terrified me to my very core, but some of my fellow students have gone on to great things. I found the skills I learned from the course very useful, but getting up in front of an audience as a 'comic' was too much for me.

I was mistaken for a diamond smuggler when leaving Sierra Leone:

Ok this one probably does require some explanation. I was working for a charity that had projects in Sierra Leone and I'd been on a visit meeting children in refugee camps and villages. I'd taken small presents for the children with me in my luggage. As we were leaving the country the customs officers looked at each other quizzically and asked me to step to one side with my bag. I had to empty my make up bag onto a counter only for them to laugh as they realised I'd been carrying diamante temporary tattoos and not smuggled blood diamonds out of the country. I was relieved to say the least.

Very streamlined... not ! 

I'm quite the sportswoman:

I know I don't look it - it's not often I get mistaken for Jess Ennis that's for sure ! However, I can ski, and scuba dive, I swim most days and am a yoga teacher. I've been a regular runner for over ten years now and have taken part in a lot of 5k (and one 10k) runs. It's not something I did at school as I wasn't the sporty archetype, but I love it now that I don't have to do it.

I'd never cut my hair until I was 26:

Raised in a Sikh family it was understood that we didn't cut our hair. Me and Hubbie chose not to cut our boy's hair for the first few years of his life out of respect for my family. I'm not sure what I thought would happen if I did cut my hair, but it did mean I had the longest hair of anyone I knew at University. My hair is a fair bit shorter now. 

My rock 'n' roll hair  

Mummy is a rocker:

I've been to see Metallica a few times and used to go to Donington rock festival regularly. My favourite item of clothing, bar none, is my biker jacket and I secretly still want to be in a rock band :)

I still can't whistle like my Mum does though. That is way cool ! 

Some children you never forget

I've been thinking about some very special children recently.

In Romania:

Bobby the Roma child who was in the street one night when a woman I know asked him if he'd eaten and when he said he and his sisters and brothers had no food at home she gave him some money. As she went about her shopping she was aware that he was carefully choosing bread, fruit and milk to feed his family. She came outside to find Bobby waiting there and she asked why he hadn't gone home yet - he held out his hand to her. "I had to give you your change."

The three Romanian children who had seen their youngest sibling killed in an institution from which they were adopted. The family who adopted them decided to have them baptised and after the service they spoke for the first time about what had happened to their brother and disclosed that it had been a member of staff who had been responsible. When they were all in a cab going home to their adoptive family the oldest child told the social worker that they had had a lovely time and to thank the kind people for taking care of them. They thought they were being sent back for speaking up about the murder.

Gaby who was adopted at 18 months and her adopted parents thought she had no memories of the orphanage until they took her to visit the children's centre. As soon as she saw the white tiled floor she began screaming and fitting as she thought it was the orphanage and she was being taken back there. Her parents never took here there again.

In Sierra Leone: 

The boy who witnessed his entire family being macheted to death by rebels who left him for dead in a pool of his own blood. He was rescued barely alive and now has gouges in his back where they hacked at his body too. He is a humble, quiet young man who bears no malice towards those who left him orphaned and who is making a future for himself without any family at all.

Visiting a refugee camp where children came up to tell us they had been soldiers. They were now going to school and being fed and were no longer given drugs or abused in order to get them to take orders from young men no older than them. A child aged no more than ten who could assemble an automatic weapon in the time it takes to boil a kettle.

In the UK:

The boy who came to school in dirty and smelly clothes and unfed most days. Teachers would bring clothes for him and his siblings to wear and soap for them to wash with at school as well as bringing in food for them to eat - this was before breakfast clubs in schools were in existence.

The three children who we were asked to consider for adoption. Twins under a year old and a sister aged 2 and a half who had learning difficulties. I still lose sleep worrying about whether they were split up in order to find a suitable family for all of them.

All of these children are real. They have all left an impression on me and I still think about them. Not every day, but sometimes the feelings I had when I met them come flooding back. I have met a lot of children whose lives have been difficult. Children who have seen more pain and violence than anyone should ever see. Some make it through and grow to become adults who don't let the pain of their early lives define them. Some don't make it.

When I think about them I hope that they are living happy lives and that they are loved.