WHAT HAPPENED TO THE HUMAN BRAIN

Having an interest, but no expertise, in prehistoric history I’ve been watching Operation Stonehenge: What Lies Beneath. 

Apart from the fact that this monument has always held a huge fascination for me, I’m blown away by the work that is found in artefacts that they have found and know about from the time: outstanding boats that can cross open water made from just wood and yew withers, no nails, no glue and it’s strong and watertight. There is beautifully crafted, decorative pottery and jewellery and, of course, copper and bronze weapons. All this points to human beings with intelligence, enthusiasm, determination and strength.

So how did we become so stupid now?  How have we managed to lose all that tradition, workmanship and skill?  We may have everything mechanised, we may not have to worry about where our food comes from or whether we’ll be warm throughout winter, but losing these skills and this knowledge is, in my view, outrageous.  We’ve become useless, ignorant and dull-witted.  We have no respect for others and no respect for the planet.  We are sheep!

Those of us that still do have ideas, skills, ambition and knowledge appear to be looked upon as odd, geeky or often crazy.  Surely we should all have ideas, all have special skills, all have determination and ambition to complete projects or reach goals, but somehow we don’t.  We are all encouraged to be alike, to like the same things, to ‘fit in’, to not speak out, and to not ‘go beyond’ the box that we are supposed to fit into. We are supposed to tick the correct boxes and fit into categories and have labels.

No, we shouldn’t! We are individuals and we should be treated as such.  We should be allowed to explore our possibilities and knowledge and skills should be passed down from generation to generation.  We should be taught how to sew, to mend, to make, to know the changes of the seasons and the movements of the sky.  We should know where our food comes from and how to grow it/raise it ourselves, even if we don’t have to do it.  Perhaps then we will produce beautiful things, raise fantastic monuments and have patience with each other and the passing of time and value our elders as well as our youth.

NB:  I am fully aware that there are some unbelievable craftsmen/women out there and that there are some amazing people who still know/teach the old ways and I applaud you.  Long may you continue and long may you inspire.

Rant over

Cya

TECHNOLOGY AND DELIVERIES HATE ME TODAY

I'm sure other people have the same, but boy am I having an off day today.  You name it, it's gone wrong.

Started off so well with a lovely cuppa and slice of cake with a friend who I haven't seen for a while and then I started feeling sick and got a headache.  Ok, so it was probably not best to start the day with a slice of coffee and walnut cake, but not completely nasty as it was homemade (no additives).  So, I sit down and try and chill out a bit with a soluble paracetamol, as I was supposed to be going to cinema tonight, and check my email. Laptop won't load for ages and email account won't let me open an attachment, grrr.

Headache goes, but sickness stays.  'Perhaps I'm hungry' I think, so off I go and have something to eat properly, not to no avail, still felt sick.

Son gets up, we do a bit of sciency stuff; making a boomerang can and a walking water experiment with jars, coloured water and kitchen paper.  Laptop wouldn't load up properly again to double check the experiment and then the printer decides it doesn't like printing pictures and goes so slowly we thought it had broke (not again, please).  It hadn't and we finally print off what we've done.

Then I can't find a website I'm looking for, was there yesterday!!

Decide another cuppa required, but must hang out washing first.

No probs!  Looking up, or so I thought.

Then dog coughs up a load of spittle and mucus (he's got an intimitant cough and occasionally spits up, but no blood and he's acting fine; he's also 12 years old, so not stressing him out with an unnecessary vet appointment), so floor needs doing and dog needs a bit of comforting.

Quickly nip back out in the garden to get a couple of courgettes and a delivery is made! Typical!  Been in all day and the five minutes it takes to walk up the garden path, pick two courgettes and come back again is the time they deliver.  Anyway, grab the house phone just in case I can catch the delivery guy and he can nip back as I can't see him up or down the street, but he can't be far.  House phone has lost signal and is squealing at me.  Grab mobile and ring Parcel Force and end up with a ton of options that get me nowhere to the point where I hang up and try again.  Get through finally to someone who says she will try and contact the driver and see where they are.  However, it has now been 10mins since the delivery so I wasn't holding out much hope as he's probably in the next town my now.

Why am I chasing?  Well, we preordered Destiny for the XBox and we were promised delivery today.  However, I've also ordered juggling balls and a sugar thermometer (strange combo, I'll admit).  Had emails this morning saying both game and balls have been dispatched.  So is the delivery the game or the juggling balls.  My son is having a minor meltdown as he wants his game and I'm annoyed because of the damn five minute rule where delivery people wait outside your house with their xray lasers waiting for you to leave before delivering, so you have to walk up the high street the following day and so totally defeat the idea of getting a delivery.  I'm also miffed as a game would normally come via Royal Mail through the normal postal service and would go through the letter box, so I'm assuming parcel is juggling balls.  But we've had no post yet (seems to get later and later every day) so I'm not entirely sure if we just have no post or he's incredibly late today.

During all this mental meltdown and grrring, I also nearly burnt the dinner I'm making; my headache has come back and I need a sit down.

To cap it all, google wouldn't load blogger for at least three attempts, my tea went cold and I've decided that all I want to do is have a hot bath, put on fresh pjs and start packing for my weekend away, so I've cancelled my cinema night with the girls as I just won't be good company.

Had a day like this a few weeks ago, cosmic energy is obviously not happy with me.  Fairies alone knows what I've done to upset it.  Perhaps I didn't bang my drum loud enough at the moon last night, or maybe I banged the drum too loud, whatever it is, I hope it plays nice tomorrow.

Cya

Oh and now I have a paper cut!!  FFS

ILLEGAL, SHMEAGAL

Am I the only one who, whilst watching the news when they are going on about illegal immigrants climbing fences in France and rushing across to lorries that have already passed border control and then listening to interviews with the French who say that they are doing their best, but need extra help from the rest of Europe, think ‘why do we think that the French or, in fact, the rest of Europe will make any special efforts to stop anyone’.  Let’s face it, it will mean the illegals will be in our country, not theirs.  They will become our responsibility, not France’s or anyone else. 

I can almost imagine the French sitting there with their Gauloises cigarettes and their bread and cheese lunches (sorry, typecasting, but you get the drift) and watching the whole shenanigans and quietly smiling to themselves.  They probably even take bets on who’ll make it over the fence first.  Best bit of entertainment of the day I shouldn’t wonder.

What I always think is 'how the hell did they get as far as the border between France and us in the first place?' Is it because Europe knows that we are such a soft touch and that most peeps will want to end up here so, in a way, they are just ‘passing through’?  Why, when they reach said border are they not dealt with there and maybe returned to respective countries whilst in Europe?  I’m very confused and bemused.

I have no objections to immigration, I really don’t.  I like the fact that we have free trade and free movement.  Let’s face it, we have inflicted almost a whole generation of our elders onto Europe, who want somewhere warm to retire to, but still want their fish and chips and warm beer.  We also inflict thousands of footy fans including the not so nice ones and hundreds, if not thousands, of the rowdy, drunken, stupid 16-25 year olds who are having their ‘crazy’ holidays upon them.

In fact, now I come to think of it, maybe that’s why they sit on their chairs eating their lunches and smoking their cigarettes and placing bets; they’re getting their own back. And, if that is the case, fair play!

I don’t really know what goes on in the rest of Europe with regard to illegals; it’s never mentioned on the news and we, obviously, don’t get updates with regard to how many illegals have settled elsewhere.  All we seem to see is the border, and there really does seem to be a lot of them, and it always seems to appear that nothing is being done, which I’m sure cannot be entirely correct.

Is the news just scaremongering, do France actually do anything at all (what’s their success rate) or are they really sitting back and laughing their heads off and enjoying lunch.

Cya

LONG LIVE THE DOMESTIC CHIEF EXECUTIVE

After having done quite a few surveys over the last few weeks and having to go through the same initial process on each one where it asks age, sex (yes please), job status and salary, I’ve begun to wonder about how the status of Housewife (or worse, Not Working for any other Reason and please note it never says Househusband; come on guys, I’m beginning to think that they think lower of you than they do of us) should be renamed/reassessed.

Let’s face it, the world around us is constantly being renamed; benefits get called different things with each reassessment and government (amongst other things), pubs and clubs get renamed to try and attract better clientele (even though that rarely if ever works), even countries and cities get renamed (look at St Petersburg verses Leningrad), so isn’t it about time that the status of Housewife gets an overhaul.

In the 40s, 50s being a housewife was something that most women aspired to; admittedly it may have been their only choice as married women working wasn’t looked upon as being appropriate. 

Then we had the women’s liberation movement and suddenly it was ok for women to work (and get equal pay); we begun having a choice.  We could go to university, become business women, run our own corporation, even become prime minister; go us. 

But nowadays we don’t appear to have a choice, we are expected to work. To be honest we kind of have to if we are to maintain the lifestyle that we are supposed to want; a mortgage, holiday abroad, fast car, nannies or child-minders (what happened to raising your own child?), etc, etc.  ‘Housewife’ has become a dirty word, even amongst a lot of women.  I cannot count the amount of times a women has asked me what I do and when I’ve replied ‘I’m a mum and housewife’ has answered with a disdainful look and a sarcastic ‘really? Don’t you want a career?’

Actually, I have a career you stuck up cow!  I have a bloody hard career!  I’m responsible for part of the next generation; I’m raising it with the entire moral, rights and wrongs and behavioural lessons to teach that are required to live and work within the big wide world out there.  I manage a household; the day to day running, the finances, the comings and the goings.  I organise birthdays, Christmas’, holidays and days out and I'm responsible for paying them.  I sort out all the utilities, including the telephoning if there is a problem.  I also have the added responsibility of home educating (admittedly my choice although, with my son’s Asperger’s, school just didn’t work), so I organise timetables, project work, liaise with outside educational organisations, mark and assess work and speak to medical professionals about his needs.

In addition I have a life!  Amazingly I have a social life, with other women (and occasionally men) who have also chosen to recognise that the raising of their children and the running of their household is a career.

I’m a nurse, a teacher, a referee, a liaison officer, a secretary, a manager, a financial consultant, an accountant, a gardener, a cook, a shoulder to cry on, a moral and social mentor; the list goes on.

So, after all of this, I’m suggesting that we are no longer called housewives or househusbands, we are domestic managers; actually we are chief executives of our own business with as many ‘staff’ as we have partners and children and pets.

We have chosen this career!  It is an important career!  We have not chosen to pass our responsibilities of parenting or household running to others; we are doing it ourselves.

Do not look down on us!  We are Domestic Chief Executives!!  Ner!  Ya boo sucks to you and your ‘careers’ (although if that is your choice, fair play to you).

Long live the Domestic Chief Executive! Any chance of a raise?

Cya